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For the first time in a month, I feel rested and at peace. I am currently in Cove, a tiny coastal village located between the great Britain and bustling Vesper. This small community has won a place in my heart that the marvelous cities and islands have yet to achieve.
The people here are simple folk, but open and friendly once I earned their trust. They share their plain but hearty meals with me, and were distraught that they had no inn or fine rooms in which I could lodge. I told them that fancy lodgings were nothing I desired, and arranged my camp in the lee of their lighthouse. This ancient edifice was built long ago as a watch tower against enemies, but for a century or more it has fulfilled a more peaceful function. It impresses me that generations of this humble town have diligently and steadfastly held watch for the safety of others. It is an accepted fact that, when the large lamp at the top of the tower is smashed by a gale, the entire village will brave the storm to repair the damage and restoke the flame. There is an elderly grandmother who lives nearby. She tells stories of the old days, to which I've taken to listening in the agreeable company of the children of the village. Last evening she told of the time the lighthouse stairs unexpectedly gave way to rot, and only she - a child then - could climb the remnants. During the weeks that they were being replaced, every night she would climb through the darkness carrying coals in a pail. She spent each night at the top, watching the stars slowly spin over the sea. To keep awake, she made up stories about the "pictures in the stars," and she still tells those stories to the children today. I'd never noticed, but she's right: there are pictures in the stars. I am glad to be here, if only while awaiting a new quest. I spend my time fighting the orcs which attack from the south. These same pitiable orcish tribes have plagued the good people of Cove since the town was first built, but within living memory have never been more than a minor nuisance kept firmly in check by regular patrols from the garrison at Britain. I cannot tell you the joy of a day spent pitting my skill against the creatures of darkness, followed by a bracing swim in the sea, and completed with a steaming bowl of thick fish chowder and warm brown bread. I know I will leave soon, but if ever you cannot find me, leave word in Cove and it will reach me eventually. Your friend, Garreth |
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