The Carriage carrying Annan rolled quietly out of Star-Moon Bay. As it passed the hill where Lord’s Manor would stand, he stopped and looked back at the town in the morning light: children chased one another across the frozen shallows, while workers busily laid foundations for new houses.
It was a vibrant new Town. Even the God of Humanity would have praised it, if such a god existed.
The journey to Ossulund Territory was long. By the time Annan returned, it would be late December, at least two months from now.
Perhaps Star-Moon Bay would already be a bustling, beautiful Sea-side town by then.
Annan had brought only the Orc. With nothing to slow them down, they reached the Sunset Plains on the morning of their third day.
The clouds to the north glowed orange-red, and the Snow Mountains were fading from view. A snowstorm seemed to be gathering, ready to sweep south.
Much of the Burnt Forest on the Sunset Plains had been felled. Annan had only meant to pass through, but he spotted a dispute between his Timber Camp and some Woodcutters. Several Soldiers were driving the Woodcutters away.
Annan had the Orc pull the Carriage up to the Timber Camp and asked the soldier who had stopped at their arrival, "What's going on?"
"King of the North—uh, my lord, these commoners are trying to steal your Charcoal!"
The soldier's chest-swelling pride stood in sharp contrast to the Woodcutters cowering before him.
"Let them take it, as long as they leave our Charcoal alone," Annan said.
The Woodcutters, who had expected punishment, thanked him in relief. Annan told Howler to drive on. "No need to thank me. That Charcoal doesn't belong to anyone."
The Sunset Plains receded behind them, and Carriages and pedestrians began to appear on the