The ground was fairly level heading east. Scrub woods and low rolling hillocks for a solid two miles. The mists had long since cleared, their chill forgotten as the sun shined warm on the three youths. Even their newfound armor and weapons seemed light, though their packs were a bit heavier than before. Making their way to the very top of the gulley, the view was breathtaking. The gully was a drain, a waterfall that ate its way back into the bluffs.

A cock crowed in the morning. A  sharp, piercing greeting to the sun's first rays that curved along the oceans far to the East, and lit up the coastline from Okarop to far off Allinor, and beyond. Those same pinkish purple rays crept Westwards, bringing the dawn to the prairie lands and the Elven Forest without prejudice. They swept across the face of the world like a giant broom. Eventually letting that rooster in Issalee Adodynes coop know that it was time for everyone to wake up.

In no time it seemed, the traveling youths had made their way down the trail from the High Pastures back to Ramhorn Ridge. Smoke rose from chimneys in each of the scattered farmhouses, bearing the smell of the various meals being prepared to the odd group of youths and sheep that made their way downhill.

A search of the tents yielded several threadbare blankets, some assorted cooking equipment (also in disrepair), and a single rather smallish chest. The chest was only 3 feet long, and two feet wide, an not even a foot high. It was made of some sort of silvery metal, engraved and inlaid in flowing patterns on all six sides. There was a latch that held it closed, but no lock.

Risos looked up, as the box was brought out of the tent, and tilted his head curiously. "That's what all the fussin' and feudin' was over? It dont seem like much, for their former Master to chase 'em halfway down the Kal'Lorryn."

Harrod was busy sorting through his belongings when Rector Schenwar returned home from the inn. He was so focused on what may come tomorrow that the boy, his ward, hadn’t heard the old man enter. Harrod had some clothes laid out upon the bed and he inspected them diligently as his mentor watched him prepare for “the adventure”.

It occurred to Urnan Schenwar that Harrod had never truly been away from his side since he saved the boy after the loss of his parents in the fire. Urnan stood there in silence, for a while longer, as he marveled at the young man before him.

The sun was still high enough when Harrod finished cleaning the woodshed. He glanced around the workshed, satisfied with the way it now looked, and put away the broom and pan. He didn't mind cleaning here. It was actually one of his favorite places to be, if he had to be somewhere other than fishing or defense training with Rector Schenwar. The young lad nodded approvingly before he left and grabbed his longpole that he had placed outside. He reached down and picked up the bucket of dirt that was next to the pole. He plunged his fingers inside the moist soil of the bucket and felt the wriggling of the bait that lay just below the surface.

The sun shone down from amidst a scattering of clouds, giving the town of Lanburg a cheery feel. It was still morning but late enough that the dew had long since dried and the townsfolk were well into their daily errands and rituals. Tannis Merican strolled leisurely down the lane, smiling faintly as he watched the people of Lanburg—his people—go about their lives.

The town was not large, though in truth, other than in stories and tales, Tannis only had Ghal and a few outlying hamlets with which to compare. Still, there was a homey feel to it that warmed the heart. It was nice to walk the streets and realize that one knew nearly everyone, in name if not overly well.

That evening the Plowman's Rest Inn was packed to the rafters. Almost everyone in town had gathered there to hear of the goings on in the world outside of the Four Rivers. The Polarchs (the proprietors) were busily moving back and forth to the kitchen and between the tables, serving up the evenings meal. The smell of the mutton stew and baked apples filled the place, and everywhere there was the incomprehensible murmur of dozens of conversations going on concurrently.

Background Story