Chapter 8

I longed once that an Empress take the throne,
all such hopes passed that a dragon had come,
that one born woman is greatest err yet to rise,
is but small consolation that woman in her died,
we needed not another to raise these stakes,
to change the game be it now forever too late?

– writings of Sylvia Grey, circa 140 E.R.

Weary Shadows

Estae 2nd, 640 E.R.

Laurel paced the King’s antechamber behind the throne room.  “I do not like this,” he admitted.

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Chapter 9

Good traveler hear,
words for the wise,
and journey in numbers,
if you value your lives,

for along all the roads,
more and less traveled,
stand hills ‘n groves,
that harbor deep shadow,

and from these places,
convenient ‘n obscure,
may spring bandits, dragons,
or beasts yet unheard.

– old caravan rhyme, circa 350 E.R.

Sisters of the Road

Vhalun 37th, 641 E.R.

Mercu watched Katrisha and Kiannae entertain themselves, and one another alternately.  The two girls rarely did the same thing at once any more, opting instead to show off for their mutual amusement, and often Mercu’s.  He pondered how much the two had grown in four years.

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Chapter 10

The twine once unwound,
shall again be re-bound,
and from the least of these,
shall come the greatest to be,
all things move both ways,
just as in those ancient days,
that which once has passed,
shall come again at last,
and order’s brightest day,
shall in deepest night decay.

– Book of Entropy, circa 30 B.E.

Shifting Threads

Rhaeus 40th, 641 E.R.

Wren glanced nervously around a large room as he entered.  He had never been inside one of the classrooms, and didn’t really know the nine older children that surrounded him.  There was a glimmer of mutual recognition with a girl sitting by the door.  After a moment the girl waved Wren over, and seemed to be searching for his name.  “Wren, isn’t it?” she finally asked.

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Chapter 11

What fears he that would be king of kings,
great power bound in the smallest things,
the storm woke madness in dragon’s heir,
what portent restrains that conqueror fair,
shadows they move where none should be,
seek the power of one the world shall see.

– Diary of Cassandra Alm, 338 E.R.

Fools & Errands

Coria 15th, 642 E.R.

“Is it true what I have heard,” Maraline asked of the twins as she moved to sit beside them on a bench in the upper courtyard.

“And what have you heard?” Kiannae pressed, looking up from her book.

“That the dragon they captured in Osyrae is larger than any feral dragon on record,” Maraline countered.

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Chapter 12

The land did fold, the hills did swell,
mid valley deep and shallow dell,
twas born fair Avrale,

a Queen she rose, ‘fore days of kings,
she set the Rooks, she made the peace,
upon the Broken Hill,

from Summers North, to Evenings West,
Southern Hearth, and Morning’s Breath,
these fair Towers stand,

these keepers were, the keepers are,
of golden field, forest green, n’ winding vale,
in noble Avrale.

– Every Vale, circa 50 E.R.

The Western Road

Coria 5th, 644 E.R.

A well adorned coach rolled through the early morning streets of Brokhal.  Such adornment was appropriate, as it indicated the importance of some of the occupants.  It was not however as Laurel would prefer to travel, for he did not thrive on attention the way Mercu did.  When he had traveled to Nohrook his visit was to be discrete – to some extent.  An adorned royal coach headed north would have fanned fears for any who knew of affairs in Osyrae.  Such was the argument he had made, and there had been no protest on that occasion.

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Chapter 13

Upon the rock we stand,
above the sheltered bay,
watch over passing ships,
come with war or trade,

none shall carry us away,
ever we stand our own,
ne’er harm from the sea,
come to Avrale our home.

– The Watches of Wesrook, circa 40 B.E.

The Tower of Wesrook

Entering the courtyard of the Castle of Wesrook was not entirely unlike entering the lower court at Broken Hill.  Though as there was no upper court above, the keep doors stood prominently at one end, and the main tower loomed above, and drew one’s eyes up.  It was in fact slightly taller than the western spire at Broken Hill, slightly wider, but gave the illusion of being much more so.

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Chapter 14

I looked there upon a lonely spire,
tall tower of those highland plains,
solitary sentinel, ‘bove the harvest grains,

proud amber heart of sovereign vales,
on all sides there about secured,
no walls she needed, nor ever were,

fair and placid lands, of humble Avrale,
could turn a prince’s eye with want,
to toil golden summer fields,

this was what young eyes knew,
now err a city sprouted from such fertile ground,
buried ancient farms, ne’er again to be ploughed,

was it for I, who took the lands fairest daughter,
did I not think time could march on without her,
we left that land, in bickering old elder’s hands.

– Prince Markus, 98 E.R.

The Voices of South Rook

The tower of South Rook was the tallest, and broadest of all the great towers of Avrale.  Standing above the near flat caldera of the southern highlands, it was a singular spectacle seen from miles in all directions.  A beacon drawing travelers in towards the sprawling city that centuries had grown around it.

Small towns sprung up like satellites along the arterial roads through the plains, and looking out at any great distance one could see these towns as clearly as the city.  It was a strange, and foreign place to those used to the deep shelter of the vales, and yet far off to all sides ridges came up to contain the vast southern farmlands.  Though a broad brake in the ridges gave way in the south, a pass that lead to the Southern Steps and cascaded down out of Avrale into Niven.

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