The moon was bright in the clear night sky, and nothing could be heard but wind blowing through the trees, as Wèn drifted silently through the woods. Wèn, old Wèn, Patriarch of the Cænli-læ and Lord of Mayhelm, had a nagging feeling he was forgetting
something. Perhaps it was because he was dressed in a silken tunic so thin you could see right through it. Luckily, he didn't feel cold, and just as well, for he had no idea where he was, or why he was there.
The pass hadn't been obvious at first. But it had been kind to the weary travellers, winding and climbing gently, leading them forward. Not that they had another choice. Still, they were grateful, and when they emerged on the East side of the mountains, and saw the foothills give way
to lakes and forest in the distance, they all began to wonder the same thing. "I don't see any smoke, nor light." "Nor I." replied Tòregin, continuing, "Huh, look at those two lakes below us, they look like two eyes, and that mountain's a nose." Wèn snorted, "I guess it's time to
rest, you've been walking too much today." "This range we're on now, it's the hair, or the helmet" Wèn fixed Tòregin with a level gaze, jabbing at the lakes, "I think your head's on sideways. Clearly, that's two teeth. We're camping here!", he bellowed. Relieved, young and old started making camp, the promise of
the land before them spoken of in glances, and the silence of timid hope.
Eventually, the woods thinned and opened to the valley, the light from the moon painting the walls, and casting long shadows over the the town within. The night was neither young or old, but comfortable and self-satisfied, and only the occasional torch flickered where the nightwatch stood,
or patrolled the streets. Wèn stopped and looked at the town across the valley, across the lake, remembering, imagining Gerlik and Yenna would soon be waking to warm the ovens and start the breads, and not long after the rest of the town would start to groan and stir, and begin their morning
chores. For a moment Wèn felt an overwhelming urge to be there, to help light the fires and brush the horses, to fill the trison manger or draw some of the day's water. But everyone had their role to play, and it appeared doing chores wasn't for the Lord of Mayhelm, today.
"Father, Dièn saw those Kypiq again!" Young Jæn ran up, breathlessly. "You don't know it's the same ones." "They're getting closer each time. We should do something." Wèn sighed, putting down the mallet and chisel. "Do what, exactly." "They shouldn't be here, this is our land!"
Now Jæn had his father's full attention. "We've settled here, you're right, and we have the permission of the Duke, alright. But those Kypiq have been here long before us. They aren't doing us harm. We need friends." "Well, they should pay us tax, and if they don't we should take it." Rubbing his brow, Wèn paused.
This was too important to mess up. "Do you remember why we left home? Our first home?" "Because the Duke wanted to steal everything?" "That Duke is cruel, and hated. We stood up for ourselves, and made a powerful enemy. That's why we're here, and we aren't going to be like him. We're going to be
better, ok?" Jæn smiled. It was easiest. He was only six, but he was already wise and good, and a great Lord. The great Lord ran off to find Dièn, and together they could make, if not the Kypiq, some chickens pay their due.
Wèn turned away, his memories fading as he walked back into the woods. The breeze had died down, and in the calm you could feel, if not quite hear, the night creatures laying down and the day creatures beginning to stir. An owl flew by just overhead, looking for a last opportunity for the night's meal,
and kept on, seeing nothing remotely interesting. Wèn walked slowly and calmly, compelled by a gentle but irresistable summons.
In the valley, the townsfolk woke, one by one, and started their day, each according to their role. In the keep, Jæn awoke also, Lord of Mayhelm now, Patriarch of the Cænli-læ.
