Men of the Mark

With a hand raised to shield her eyes from the unexpectedly bright sun of the early winter’s morning, Hertha watched as her cousin, Thilwend, approached the doors to the Armoury and, with a court nod and a ‘Fair day to you,’ passed on her way to her office. But another, much smaller figure wasn’t far behind the sergeant. Her lightness of step and cheerful expression caused the Smith to smile a little.

The warmth of a firepit is of little solace up here in the mountains, where the wicked winter’s fist keeps the land in a firm and cruel grip. Wildermore has always been a “wild” place so to speak, for it is not the kind of land one would pass through easily and without purpose, and the people who do make their living here are hardened folk.

We both looked to Elfmar, speaking with one of his men. His back was partly turned towards the door, so though he had likely heard our footsteps, he hadn’t yet seen us. I paused.