Magic's Genesis- The Grey by Rosaire Bushey

Author:Rosaire Bushey [Bushey, Rosaire]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-05-20T22:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-THREE

Wynter was aglow in his triumph and kept his head high as the last echoes of his name drifted over the flats and away across the lake as the people, his people, genuflected on the shore, the natives of the village led in obeisance by the newcomers from the south. But he could feel his energy slipping away and turned stiffly and marched into the mouth of his new fortress as Nethyal gave orders to workers who would be responsible for provisioning and serving the castle.

It would take the villagers weeks to build and outfit the kitchens, sleeping quarters, and everything else necessary to finish what Wynter had begun, but Wynter would let them do every bit of it. He wanted them to stand inside the structure and tell the townspeople of what they saw. He wanted the Fourteen Pillars to do their job and send a message – fear to those who would dismiss Solwyn, and pride for those of Solwyn. The Pillars, as Wynter would later tell people, represented how men believed so much, they sacrificed themselves for this edifice and for the idea that was Solwyn.

In the weeks following the rise of Castle Solwyn the glowing beacon of the great blue north tower did its job well, as people flocked to the town, drawn to the curious blue light that stood still in the sky above the lake. Men who came to the castle were welcomed and urged to return home, gather their families, their wealth, their weapons, and as many supplies as they could bring back as their price for joining the burgeoning community. Tradesmen, shop keepers, farriers, blacksmiths, miners, fishermen, seamstresses, surgeons, cobblers, tinkers, tanners … over the course of weeks they all returned with their families and trains of carts loaded with their possessions and everything else they could find, scrounge, or steal.

As the people arrived, Wynter spoke to Nethyal as behind them several oxen-drawn carts made their way across the worn path into town. “More will come in the spring. The minor nobility, the land-lords, and inevitably, the militia.”

Nethyal didn’t ask the question out loud, but he turned to Wynter, his eyes seeking explanation.

“As people arrive here, the lords lose their tax payers, their workers, their shops, their servants, their food, and their own comfort.” Wynter’s gaze never left the town as he answered. “The only reason they don’t come now is because the crops are in and they will be well-fed until spring. But, come spring, they will ride here to reclaim their property.” Wynter thought about how he could welcome his guests and turned to face Nethyal and smiled. “We must prepare for them before they gather together to prepare for us.”

As Solwyn grew workers engaged themselves in building the necessary infrastructure. All worked with enthusiasm and in concert with one another under the shadow of the Cobalt Tower. Nethyal found men and women able to organize people into teams for farming, foraging, fishing, construction, and other work and, by Wynter’s

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