Missive to Council

Season of the Hot Sun Second Quarter Third Day of Duty

On reaching Barris Krek, I have been accepted on personal invite to the Citadel at Stormguard where I will have the good fortune and timeliness to be able to meet with Omar the Black, and therefore can avoid making the arduous journey to the marshes to the north and Tower Blackrock. He has kindly send advance missives regarding his own chronicle detailing current difficulties facing our calling, as well as the steady increase these days of the needy whose future depends on the assistance of our fellow collegiates.

Even despite the relative isolation of his tower, He spares no re-iteration in that he has found no shortage of supplicants who come from not only those local to the Donlands Kingdoms, but from as far as even Dragonshead and further reaches on the Ocean of Dusk. I understand it has been some time since I was a collector of chronicles, but the trend I am seeing does appear at least a little alarming.

According to writings the Margravine had shown me, my former apprentice Omar the Black would have been on the man’s itinerary of supplication. Hopefully I would gain hints about his plans of travel from one of my most accomplished, if not influential former students. From what was hearing from at Council, Omar was expected to join their number well before the coming conjunction. The March Lord apparently had planned also to speak with the Grand Duke of Stormguard himself as well. The more details I could glean, the easier I expected it would be to find the man, and so, more quickly discharge my debt. I was ahead of schedule as well. Even on a poor steed, I was moving east faster than Trona would have. Maybe I wasn’t quite as old as had been generally decided.

At Stormguard, however, my journey slowed considerably. For an audience with the old Duke, this meant a very long wait, before a brief word, even to those few allowed beyond its most impressive thick granite walls and its triple iron gates.

Despite such restrictions, The Duke Nevis’ court was a crowded one, far more crowded than I remembered. There were all manner of men and women come to ask favor, wearing styles that spoke of the entire alliance. Certainly, his lands had become amongst the richest in the seven greater kingdoms during the latest years of peace. The rich, dark, soil which spread out from the feet of the Nine Pillars of Fire, provided crops like no other across the Thirteen. And the mines at the base of those volcanoes had in recent years come to produce gold and jewels unlike those found in any land under the two suns. And as I had arrived at first harvest, it was on brilliant, if gaudy display. The difference between the dying march and this Donland Kingdom was like the difference between Season’s Cold and Hot.

There was little to do but take my place and wait for as long as was necessary. At least, by the time I put the pillars behind me I would be well rested.