Dale

The Pig and Drum tavern was busier than usual. The hustle and bustle of the summer market had certainly caused a stir in the Dale-land village, drawing common folk from miles around to flaunt their wears and catch up on the goings on in neighbouring settlements. Unfortunately, it was not only farmers and blacksmiths that were drawn in, but those of a more unsavoury variety seeking an opportunity to enact their criminal activities.

Used to the usual mail from friends, and the occasional one from farther off, Guriwen looked at the letter suspiciously at first. It was clearly written in a hand unknown to her and she imagined it, from the almost childlike appearance of the writing. She set it carefully on the table in the hall of her home in the Cape, putting off whatever the news might be, at least temporarily. 

“Boy!” shouted a voice, rousing the child from his nap. The warm sun and the creaking cart and the sounds of the horse had lulled him to sleep. It was a big day, for some reason, he couldn’t remember. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and stretched. He had left home with his father for something; waking up much earlier than normal.