Prolouge
In the foothills of Ibrain mountainsโฆ
Cahe Vehswo was in the field repairing a wooden fence. It was less the wolves out than to keep the stupid sheeo in,Where the obly slightly smarter child-shepherds could watch them.
It was a beautiful dqy, almost sparkling. The pines wern't yet brittle from late summer heat and the deciduous trees were in full glory, theirdark green leaves crackling in the wind. The mountains were dressed in mid-seasons blooms and tinkly little warterfalls. The clouds in the sky were ridiculously puffy.
The only off note in nataures symphony was a strange stink when the wind came up from the southern lowlands;burning animal fat, or rubbish, or rot.
Everyone in the hamlet was out doing chores in such forgiving weather; rebuilding grapevine trellies, chopping wood, cleaning out the cheese barrels. No one was quarreling, yet, and life on their remote hillside seemed good.
The Cahe saw something unlikley coming up the old road, the king's road. It was phalanx of soldiers, marching in a suprisingly solid and oldeey fashion considering how plumes, their buttons that shone like tiny golden suns and their suprisingly clean jackets, there was alnosta a parade-like air around them. If not their grim, haughty looks and the strange flag they flew.
An order cried; the me stopped. The captain, resplendent
