- ₪ ₪₪ Beginning of Generation 2 ₪₪ ₪ -
- ₪ ₪₪ 67th sun after the plague. 26th sun after Penthesilea’s arrival. ₪₪ ₪ -
Penthesilea is 46, Protego 49, Serkon 50
Lyta is 24, Phyllis 17, Faidra 30, Cass 21, Deia 8, Eos 7 and Thersandros 29
Ceallach blinked the tickle at the tip of his nose away. The trees grew more sparse here, in the mountainous area they had been crossing since noon.
So from time to time, the treetops drew back for an unexpected beam of sun to find its way into one of the travelers’ faces.
The sun is our enemy, Ceallach thought while wiping away the sweat from his forehead. The sun and the slowness of that damaichte caravan.
He was sure that if people did live in this heat, they had to be poor as dirt. No crop could grow under this relentless sun. True, the young Porphyreian merchant they were traveling with had claimed the region further downhill to be more fertile for a variety of crops, and the mountains did hold the occasional game to hunt – but merchants always exaggerated. On the other hand, the inhabitants must have amassed at least some wealth to get one’s hands on if the tradesmen kept returning to the area.
A horse’s clip-clop drew closer from the path ahead, each thud of the hooves clearly audible far and wide. The stony soil and cracked rests of a cobbled stone road nipped any attempt of an inconspicuous approach in the bud.
No threat this time, though. The caravan had awaited the return of the scout long ago.
As they passed each other, the Al Simharan gave Ceallach a short nod.
Everything in good order. The young man’s shoulders sacked a little. They had found traces of several groups of armed people when setting up camp in the last few days. Their presumed number was high enough to cause trouble if an encounter was to take place.
“Ceallach, feith! Wait!” Obeying the voice of their commander sounding from his back, the young man brought his mare to a halt and patted her neck. It had been an act of mercy by a compassionate god that he had come across a countryman at the edge of the borderlands, at the very same time when his own gold had come to an end.
“Take a breath of this air,” the commander said, eyes flashing.
“And have you seen the fortress on the way? Massive walls, even after all that time. No doubt, that must be it.”
“No doubt,” Ceallach echoed, remembering the eerie remains they had caught a glimpse of from the road. The closer they came to their commander’s aim, the stranger the other man had become. It almost felt like the sweet, aromatic scent of the pine trees had cut a way free for a hidden, fiery temper in his countryman. As if his heart beat in the same rhythm with the forest surrounding them.
“Ceallach, this is home.”
The young Westerner stared along the dry path stretching out before them. Above it, the air flickered in the midday heat. I wonder, he replied in thought, I wonder if the residents would agree with you.
Poses by beverlyallitsims and MrsRacooney