“And then I’ll be… forty-eight! Holy Gods! I’ll be an old lady!” “That will be thirty-one years from now,” Gleda remarked. “I’d like to be that sprightly when I get to the age of eighty-four,” Thorn muttered as the burgomaster walked away. “But not today! I’m afraid today I’ll be too busy…”’ Burgomaster!” Thorn said with a bow of his head. So, Captain, please consider tonight’s fireworks to be in honor of your Liki.” And only one of these wives celebrates her birthday on the festival of Spring Equinox. “There aren’t too many captains of the royal guard. “Albus isn’t the biggest town around,” Trobbel winked at Thorn’s daughter. A guard with a basket of offerings walked behind him, while the Baron, a grizzled old man resembling a root-crop growing out of the stony ground, swayed from foot to foot, all the time looking around for something useful which might require his generous or not-so-generous patronage. “I see that Captain Brenin’s come to market to get a present for his wonderful wife…” Baron Trobbel, the burgomaster of Albus, was walking through the rows of stalls towards the town hall.
To be honest, she found all of that highly entertaining, but… And now this disappoint too! What had become of the beautiful stranger? Just now she had been in front of her very eyes.
WHITE REAPER TORRENT HOW TO
Gleda was tired of waving around the wooden sticks they used to train young goofs how to fence, or swapping punches with other children of her age who were destined to be warriors. This fact annoyed her rather than pleased her, however, because she was able and eager to respond decently to such an insult. The townspeople parted before him like the waters of the Mannaz river forced apart by the keel of a Berkan ship.Īs dark-eyed Gleda followed her father, she could look around without having to be afraid of pickpockets or an accidental-or not so accidental-pinch or slap. The only person who really seemed to know where he was going and why was Thorn Brenin, slightly graying retired captain of the royal guard who was also a volunteer patron of the Albus bowmen regiment. Rubberneckers from the surrounding villages feverishly clutched their thin purses while hawkers prodded each other with their baskets. The traders were calling out to buyers or appealing for a warm summer. Where had this miraculous being appeared from, here in Albus?
She was as pure as a third distillation of fire water. She wasn’t a child, but neither was she a mother. Perhaps the reason was the beautiful black-haired stranger who had noticed the admiring gaze of the seventeen year old girl and smiled back at her? The stranger was a fine-looking young lady with long flowing hair. Only one thing wasn’t clear: why did the sky, the mountains and the cold aid seem like a taut thread ready to snap at any moment? The bare branches of the trees rustled lightly, and only a padded jacket could protect a girl’s shoulders from the cold freshness but spring had already crossed the threshold. The voice of the Albus burgomaster was hoarse from shouting commands to the town workers, but where would they have been, had it not been for the sun?Įncircling the city wall, the supple torrents of the Mannaz river continued to drag shards of ice in its wake, while the brilliantly shining snow white mountains with verdant young grass at their very base glistened in the sunlight. Of course, the town’s cleaners worked tirelessly with their brooms and shovels. Just yesterday the quiet, narrow streets and the main gates had been sullied with the sight of dirty snow drifts, but today there was no sign left of them. The sun peered from behind the clouds, day after day warming the little town of Albus with all its walls and towers, roofs, squares, narrow streets and tiny gardens. At times the cold wind would be heavy with sleet, but not for long. Whenever spring was a month old, it began to feel like spring even in the foothills.
0 kommentar(er)
