Ever since we both started out as pikemen, I'd been jealous of his dagger. It was a family heirloom, his grandmother's dagger that had slit a dozen Elven throats when she was an underground agent, or something. All I cared about was that it was exceedingly sharp.
In all our games of dice and cards, I never managed to win it, and he'd know if I stole it.
The day i finally got it was the day the Tree Elves attacked the camp and he sadly took an arrow to the throat.
It mostly killed him, I helped a little.
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