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Martin Luther Alternate Ending Essay

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Riding on, Ulrich recalled how Carina had slapped him right across the face. In that moment, he assumed she was furious with him and would forget him more easily. But then she flew out into the hallway and said she’d wait for him. He’d wanted to tell her not to, he wanted to spin around and lie, say that he never cared for her. That way, she’d move on and forget all about him, but the words were so false he couldn’t bring himself to say them. Instead, he kept walking away, his severed arm burning and cramping as if it was still on fire. The pain never abated and it was maddening. The previous night, in his haze of agony and misery, he resolved to travel to Kent and catch the next ship across the Narrow Channel, leaving Camelot for good. Perhaps he’d go to the Frankish Kingdom or Spania, maybe even as far as the edge of the Persian Empire. Perhaps beyond. Who cared? He had plenty of coin for…show more content…
I fucking hate you!” he screamed into the black, empty night. He could no longer see a damn thing and he couldn’t get a fire going. “Why me, damn it?” From the nearby foliage, Ulrich heard a whisper of foreign words. The last time he heard a strange language, he’d lost his arm moments later. Terrified, he drew his sword, an undercurrent of fear seizing him; he’d never fought one-armed before. “Show yourself!” demanded Ulrich with far more courage than he felt. More rustling came from the brush, and next, a bright fire blazed in the small circle of stones on the ground. With his luck, a practitioner of black magic stood nearby, ready and waiting to torture and kill. “I said show yourself!” repeated Ulrich, marching toward the sound, hoping he be able to strike first. “It’s all right,” came a response from the tree line, the voice sounding familiar. A thin man stepped from the woods: Merlin. “It’s only me. Mind if I have a seat?” Ulrich sighed with relief and sheathed his weapon. “Not at all.” He gestured toward the blazing fire and they both took
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