Scribed by Terentius
Spring
It is now almost twenty years since we heard the first warnings of a looming calamity heading our way from the East. We have devoted much of the intervening period to searching for a solution to the threat, largely avoiding the distractions that sometimes ensnare those whose extended lives can make them lose track of the passage of years. Our singular focus has been admirable, and we have made good progress, though as yet a grand theory to underpin our efforts still eludes us. Yet the news of poor harvests beyond our walls is a reminder that we have remained rather isolated from the wider problems besetting the people of these lands. Taxes and prices may have risen, but this is more an inconvenience than a mortal danger, for we eat the same food and drink the same wine as we did in happier times. I wonder how long it will be before our silver will no longer afford us such comforts, for farmers and merchants are likely to hoard food in the face of starvation. The stories our grogs brought back from the war in France are also a salient reminder of the bitter wastefulness of noble lords who are content to spend the lives of their men for a few miles of new territory. How far will such men go when it is survival, rather than wealth and glory, that compels them?
We held a short council meeting at the start of the season. There was little news to discuss from Winter, so conversation swiftly moved onto our plans for the coming year. Jari and Naevius agreed that Summer would be an appropriate time to test their theories concerning using Verditius’ runes to control the powers of a set of standing stones, much in the same way that Myddyn controlled access to the regio at Mynydd Myddyn via the white stones. Jari and Branwen then proposed an expedition to Avebury in Autumn to investigate the presence of a sacred grove at the heart of that circle. Despite the success of her ritual at the stone on the Gower peninsula, Theoclea was reluctant to push her research further until she has some means of ameliorating the mental and physical cost of wielding such powerful magic. She mused about whether a familiar or talisman might help, but neither appeared to offer a clear solution at this time.
Early in the season, Jari learned from our spymaster, Stephanus, that the Earl of Cardigan had discovered that foodstuffs appeared plentiful on the Gower, despite the fact that cupboards were bare elsewhere in the region. He had apparently dispatched the local Sheriff to investigate. Our council discussed the matter, but we resolved not to intervene directly, as even if the authorities discovered the nature of Theoclea’s ritual, there was little prospect that they would tie it back to us. Nonetheless, I agreed to travel there in my spare time to keep an eye on developments.
A few days later, I made my way to the Gower. The results of Theoclea’s ritual were immediately evident, for the fields remained fertile and abundant, even though it was still very early in the growing season. I spied an elegant carriage at the edge of the village and saw a group of priests and monks carrying items to the tavern. At their head was a finely dressed figure that I later identified as the Bishop of St David’s, the most significant cathedral in all of Wales. Later that day, the Bishop and his priests conducted a ceremony thanking Saint Dwynwen, a woman martyred in the fields of Flintshire hundreds of years ago, for blessing the village with such a bountiful harvest. As part of the ceremony, a small statue of the Saint that had been created by a local carpenter was paraded through the village and then set facing the fields. After the clerics departed, I confirmed that the religious ceremony had not affected the small magical aura that lay about the fields. There was some further talk of erecting a chapel, which might extend the power of the Dominion, though my impression was that this might take several years to organise. All in all, the fact that the church has claimed the harvest as a miracle, rather than accusing the locals of witchcraft or some other act of foul play, is as good an outcome as we could have wished for, and so I returned to Severn Temple the next day. The rest of the season passed without any events of note.
Spring
It is now almost twenty years since we heard the first warnings of a looming calamity heading our way from the East. We have devoted much of the intervening period to searching for a solution to the threat, largely avoiding the distractions that sometimes ensnare those whose extended lives can make them lose track of the passage of years. Our singular focus has been admirable, and we have made good progress, though as yet a grand theory to underpin our efforts still eludes us. Yet the news of poor harvests beyond our walls is a reminder that we have remained rather isolated from the wider problems besetting the people of these lands. Taxes and prices may have risen, but this is more an inconvenience than a mortal danger, for we eat the same food and drink the same wine as we did in happier times. I wonder how long it will be before our silver will no longer afford us such comforts, for farmers and merchants are likely to hoard food in the face of starvation. The stories our grogs brought back from the war in France are also a salient reminder of the bitter wastefulness of noble lords who are content to spend the lives of their men for a few miles of new territory. How far will such men go when it is survival, rather than wealth and glory, that compels them?
We held a short council meeting at the start of the season. There was little news to discuss from Winter, so conversation swiftly moved onto our plans for the coming year. Jari and Naevius agreed that Summer would be an appropriate time to test their theories concerning using Verditius’ runes to control the powers of a set of standing stones, much in the same way that Myddyn controlled access to the regio at Mynydd Myddyn via the white stones. Jari and Branwen then proposed an expedition to Avebury in Autumn to investigate the presence of a sacred grove at the heart of that circle. Despite the success of her ritual at the stone on the Gower peninsula, Theoclea was reluctant to push her research further until she has some means of ameliorating the mental and physical cost of wielding such powerful magic. She mused about whether a familiar or talisman might help, but neither appeared to offer a clear solution at this time.
Early in the season, Jari learned from our spymaster, Stephanus, that the Earl of Cardigan had discovered that foodstuffs appeared plentiful on the Gower, despite the fact that cupboards were bare elsewhere in the region. He had apparently dispatched the local Sheriff to investigate. Our council discussed the matter, but we resolved not to intervene directly, as even if the authorities discovered the nature of Theoclea’s ritual, there was little prospect that they would tie it back to us. Nonetheless, I agreed to travel there in my spare time to keep an eye on developments.
A few days later, I made my way to the Gower. The results of Theoclea’s ritual were immediately evident, for the fields remained fertile and abundant, even though it was still very early in the growing season. I spied an elegant carriage at the edge of the village and saw a group of priests and monks carrying items to the tavern. At their head was a finely dressed figure that I later identified as the Bishop of St David’s, the most significant cathedral in all of Wales. Later that day, the Bishop and his priests conducted a ceremony thanking Saint Dwynwen, a woman martyred in the fields of Flintshire hundreds of years ago, for blessing the village with such a bountiful harvest. As part of the ceremony, a small statue of the Saint that had been created by a local carpenter was paraded through the village and then set facing the fields. After the clerics departed, I confirmed that the religious ceremony had not affected the small magical aura that lay about the fields. There was some further talk of erecting a chapel, which might extend the power of the Dominion, though my impression was that this might take several years to organise. All in all, the fact that the church has claimed the harvest as a miracle, rather than accusing the locals of witchcraft or some other act of foul play, is as good an outcome as we could have wished for, and so I returned to Severn Temple the next day. The rest of the season passed without any events of note.