Even in the northern lands, near the ice peaked mountains, the sun was hot from its peak in the sky as Valerik walked. He had left Rive tied to a tree in the forest a few miles back; some villages considered the horse an abomination, and the one he was heading for was one of them.It had been years since he last visited the village, perhaps a decade had gone by. He doubted Arfina would be happy to see him. Fortunately, she wasn't the reason he was going there. She hadn't been the reason the last time either, and it had played a part in dulling her mood, or spurrin

Narvi gave them his unwavering attention as Takaris rehashed the tale of his experience at one of the famed taverns near the first tower of the realm. One year, Sethlzaar thought. The mandatory pastoral year required of all priests in their first year of priesthood, regardless of their class.The shock had been palpable on all their faces when they had been told where they would be posted. For the past year they had lived on the outskirts of the realm in the west tower, near the outskirts of the Arlyn forest, combating the Merdendi savages, curtailing their growing horde; preventing a war. Six

Sethlzaar studied the cassock on his bed. He had a decision to make. Wear the black cotton shirt and leather trouser he always wore beneath his cloak or honor the Lord Commander's dinner with his cassock. It is not a dinner deserving of any honor, he told himself.He returned the cassock to the wardrobe present at the corner of his room and shrugged into a leather trouser and strapped on his boots. He covered his torso in a grey cotton shirt, concealing the few scars on his bo

Sethlzaar blinked against the brightness. The action was slow, bereft of enthusiasm. He laid on a soft cushion, a bed unlike the one he had placed his head on the past few months. Turning his head, he surveyed his environment. It smelled of herbs, reminding him of Father Jenael and the priest's room in the seminary. This room, however, was small enough to contain one bed upon which he laid, but large enough to hold two, perhaps three, before becoming congested. The light that sought to blind him came from the window above his head. It was taller than it was wide. It was also the only window t

Lord Bilvion was a difficult man to please. Apart from the men he brought with him from whatever part of the realm he came from, no one at the fort liked him. Every soldier is regarded him with a moderate level of disdain however much concealed. Even his men often showed a hint of dislike. It was obvious the man had either proven his mettle to them in some way or he'd simply grown on them.