Here is something I made, I really like the Sonningwiese visits so decided to write this, please enjoy!!
Unseen, But Not Unfelt
Mandred was perplexed, he didn't consider himself a particularly clever man, satisfied with his sheep, little aroused his interest. To consider deeply was against his nature, content as he was. Yet he was perplexed, he had heard Rolf mutter it to himself when going over the books. He wasn't too sure about the words' meaning but it sounded nice. Sonningwiese wasn't important, but they were content in that unimportance. Easy pleasures, simple pleasures but even that was changing. Sigvald the blacksmith had married and his children helped in the forge. Rolf had gotten his letterin' and taken an assistant. That's what made him officially name Rolf the headman, Mandred liked his sheep more than the duties anyway.
Yet his home wasn't the same, more trade flowed into the highlands, wagons became commonplace rolling down the hills along the nice and even road that the Dame had ordered made. They departed filled with wool and wagon's of cheese, returning full of the tools that made life easier, along with the pleasures of civilization. Proper weapons, stout tools and professional goods from as far as Altdorf! Ale and wine came in dribs and drabs drawing interest in having regular access to more alcohol. An enterprising local named Arnulf set himself up with brewers down near Sonningwiese, and had first rights on any alcohol that passed through the highlands. With this deal in place he built a tavern with a loan from the treasury. Flint's Wool, he thought himself clever despite everyone rolling their eyes behind his back. That pissed Johann off to no end, Rolf ended up sitting them both down after Johann got caught testing how his hooch burned. Arnulf came out with a black eye, a steady stream of hooch and a wife. Johann was happy to have the work and a good future for his daughter.
Mandred had stayed by the simple rules his father and every Headman had followed since the beginning. Don't go poking around nobles or merchants, keep everything quiet and enjoy the peace. Dame Weber wasn't around much but her motto carved into the wall of the keep's hall still rang true. He'd talked to her perhaps a dozen times over the past years? She was better than the merchants, putting the taxes back in to help the area. The cheese was nice, same with the well and granary. Made life a bit safer, a bit easier, knowing someone was watching out for them.
His eldest son was still making him proud, being named steward, especially raising the keep. The Grey Lady as it was called by Gretel's youngest grandson, everyone told him that it was a foolish name but soon realized they didn't have anything better. Then the sheep he brought up! He was happy to see them, traveled from lands he didn't know much about but sounded real different. Nice and thick wool, but the brains in those beauties! Mandred had lost enough sheep and goats to ragwort. Ludwig had nearly lost everything a decade ago, saved only by the flint mine being opened. His son made sure everyone was organized when breeding time came, all of us together and each season more and more of our herds got smarter with their wool thicker and finer. The other sheep were delicate, too delicate for the highlands. Rolf told him that the plan was to breed them into the herds, get more milk flowing. He was happy enough with the answer and left the worries that came with that to Rolf.
Wool was always needed in the Empire and soon after the first dozen loads rolled down to Sonningwiese a young widow from Leicheberg set herself and her daughters up near the estate. Built herself a little workshop working looms with her family. Within the year she was hiring girls from the area to help when they weren't needed at home. Cloth was abundant for the first time in great amounts, tents were made for the shepherds. Warm blankets, his son even got them to make some banners for the keep and atop the new gatehouse. Then he went and ordered 50 gambesons in case trouble ever came calling. Enough for nearly every man that lived near the keep, should they need them.
Markus's wife Brunhile got together with the widow soon after she declared her intent to settle, and explained that she was the woman to see about dying in the area. The dye she made for the carvings wouldn't cut it for this amount of material, so she set up some proper vats in town. With the need for stirring she hired a couple hands and told the shepherds that roamed the hills what she was looking for, even set herself with some traders who brought her the materials needed when they fell short. She ended up talking to old Gretel and got the recipe for the woad that our ancestors used to put on, this amazing bright blue.
Wasn't long before everyone had some bright clothing that wasn't reserved for feast days and celebrations. Rolf looked downright noble in his new red cloak! Sigvald kept complainin' about how hard it was to keep his new green jerkin clean from soot, but everyone knew he only did it so he could keep talking about how nice it looked. Even he had to get in on it. Mandred felt pride in his new tunic, as bright blue as the war paint that once covered his ancestor's chest.
When Rolf told him Lady Weber was going to hire a Jade wizard to help with the sheep, Mandred thought his son was playing a prank, getting back at him for making him headman. He damn near fell out of his chair when that funny looking fella came strolling up the road. Man was covered in glowing green tattoos up and down his arms. Introduced himself to Rolf with a letter stating that he heard reliable work was needed with some tupping.
Jerryk was a large man, young too, his arms were thick enough to arouse interest despite the tattoos. His hair was thick and wild, with a beard that made a number of young men ask how to grow beard hair as thick as his. He set himself up right quick with a tent pitched out in the middle of the herds and the sheep following him along and downright introducing themselves to him. The East Westerland breed were delicate little things, even the local ewes were bigger by no small margin. Jerryk spent a week among the flock before he said to gather the herds. He stood among them and chanted in some mystical tongue, observed from a safe distance in the keep, as it offered a fine view. The rams swelled, taking some larger form and mounted a great number of ewes, the other rams defeated in shows of force to earn the right to breed.
A number of young women who had homes built now that they worked the looms full time were suddenly very interested in the young man from Talabecland and his knowledge of fertility. He was bashful but admitted later in the tavern with several of the fathers (not that he knew) of those self same girls plying him with beer that he enjoyed the attention but was more of a settle down than roll in the hay kind of man. Apparently most people took one look at him and decided he wasn't welcome unless escorted by armed men. When the tale was told later everyone was a bit confused. Those people had seen what he could with sheep, right?
In the following years the ewes produced enough milk that a number of young lads talked Johann into running his still full time. He ended up moving into a new building he and Arnulf made behind the tavern. Johann still liked to complain about the man but no one believed him, he liked his grandsons too much. Soon even Johann was forced to accept the need for help in the distillery, and ended up teaching the recipe to his daughter Felica and Arnulf. Forced him to register as a distillery though. Rolf had to step in for it after they kept rejecting the applications. Had a word with the local EIC branch in Sonningweise and the man's license was issued right quick, one of them even came up and put the logo on the tavern, said his name was Rudiger from Hochland, gave Johann some proper distillery equipment, turned his hooch proper called it kumis in exchange for a piece of the place. Man was nice enough, not around much. Reminded him of Lady Weber in a way.
That is when it got real strange, Rolf started frowning a lot this past year. Soon he was seen with a stranger from Wurtbad wearing the EIC logo on a short cape walking the perimeter of the small heart of industry that had developed in the highlands. A dairy, overflowing with milk had spawned a dozen houses clustered as men who worked there married and built homes closer, with smaller herds focused on milk production. The Looms had expanded, and now had an adjacent warehouse. A short distance away a cluster of matriarchal houses grew. Matron Eliesse's daughters had married well. Nearby another building's framework rose, Markus and Brunhile working together to build a new home closer to the dye works. The smokehouse grew, the tavern and Johann's distillery were the most important in Mandred's opinion. Not more than 100 people with perhaps 2 scores of children scrambling underfoot.
It was the largest beacon of humanity within the hills of Sonningwiese, this area made hard living and forced men to range far from each other. Families gathered and regular contact was maintained as sons and daughters ranged together as the flocks intermixed under the weather eye of their elders. Homes were private affairs, rarely seen by non-family members except at business negotiations or welcoming a new family member to the fold. Now over thirty homes sat clustered around the estate and their places of employment. The older folk not directly involved were bewildered by their wayward children and the homes they inhabited. Often of equal or better make than their own and all within spitting distance of non-blood relations!?!? They were quieted down with gifts and headed home with their small hand carts full of provisions to help with the next lean times, proud that the children had found their footing in the world.
Soon tax season was upon the highlands, the call went out that labor would be an option over taxes this year. The small cluster of souls swelled by dozens as a great movement of men and women eager to work once more to spare their families the tax burden with sweat. They quickly assembled lean-to's and tents to house themselves, knowing food would be provided in abundance for their effort. It took some doing for Rolf to get the overeager youngin's from sinking pits without direction.
The EIC man came back within a day once everyone was gathered, at his son's nod he started bawling out instructions. Measurements were taken and spades handed out, soon a great trench surrounded the estate and the new settlement. The material and a great deal more brought from the Ghoul woods sat in a loose pile behind the trench, men speculatively mused at the question. Why keep a bunch of dirt and ship in more? The EIC man's name was Oswin, a master architect from Wurtbad who was providing a simple start for his apprentice to build on, he negotiated the contract on behalf of the EIC, but his apprentice who would arrive soon was in charge from now on. Mandred wasn't too happy about that, a master architect was here but an apprentice was doing the plans? Rolf just nodded though, explaining to him later that it meant a discount on the work.
A new EIC man came mounted on a fine Averland stallion at the head of a convoy of wagons pulled by hefty oxen, filled with shaped stone, great logs and planks. Abelhiem Colter introduced himself as a young man from Wurtbad, named for the late count and apprenticed to his uncle in the field of architecture. This was his proof of mastery he declared, something for future generations to build upon the back of his work. The men saw the wisdom of the preparations of back breaking work to make this moment easy. The log's were treated in the smokehouse, hardened in the fires and sharpened, soon they filled the trench in great numbers. This was followed with buckets of mortar, to fill the gaps and make sure this palisade could last generations. The loose soil and left overs from the baileys work was stomped into a slope approaching the top. Soon a palisade ten feet tall formed around them, the slopes inside allowing the defenders to engage from a safe height should trouble come. Great doors of weathered oak were made over the three paths that meandered out to the highlands and one over the path leading down to Sonningwiese.
Soon the work crews on stomping duty diminished as they flattened the peak, more hands headed towards the center of the estate. Eager to lend their strength to the construction of the new bailey. They quickly pulled down the old twelve foot palisade and stacked it neatly where instructed. The old logs were quickly hauled off by the stomping crews eager to reinforce the weakest point of the palisade. Logs were quickly placed on the sides of the gates. No foe that forced entry would be able to climb to the top of the walls, instead they would be forced down a narrow tunnel, no more than four abreast could fit through. Easily blocked by spears or shields to leave them prey to the men above them.
At the Bailey four skilled masons and their apprentices supervised the men and women working guiding stone into place. The many hands of the work crews made light work as the shaped stone was laid with skill the structure rose, two feet thick and six feet high the base of the new palisade was formed. A wide gap was left for the future gatehouse. chisels were pushed into the hands of the crew's drills and chisels applied to freshly laid stone, carving slots for the rest of the palisade. Before the grumblings about the seeming futility of the act could reach a crescendo a small feast was made and a great deal of alcohol given to the crew, averting a work stoppage so close to the finish.
Then the planks of hardened and treated cedar were put to use. They were varnished and strange looking to the eyes of the locals, more used to the rough and hand-worn look. Abelhiem was quick to explain to worried locals, that the wood was treated to be hardened, the varnish was there to prevent rot and lessen the chance of fire. The wood rose another 8 feet planted firmly into the stone base slotted by the earlier work.
Behind them followed the carpenter and his team of journeymen, having come in to oversee the formation of the gates of the palisade; this is where they shined. The man was mad, crowing on and on about the ultimate proof of his new varnish but he directed the young men to work. A scaffolding arose for the masons to work upon the future gatehouse. He laid a walkway along the interior leaving a gap around the gatehouse, it was sturdy and true. A fine advantage for the defenders. The man was quick to draw Markus into conversations, delighted to meet a fellow woodworker.
Tupping season saw most of the young men and women disperse, heading home to help with the flocks and herds. Near a score decided on a different path and accepted the offer of coin to continue the work on the final piece, the gate house. Most of these youths were regular sights at the flint mining pit. Few enjoyed the work but they needed to help their families somehow.
The unskilled hand's were guided by the four masons and their apprentices, stone and mortar applied with great gusto. It rose quickly, the plans the young man laid out guiding them through with little stopping of work. 20 feet the tower rose its base 8 feet thick. Arrow slits ran the upper floor; it was quickly connected to the wall walk of the bailey. The roof was thick enough for a half score of men to stand atop to throw rocks and fire arrows at any intruder. A small room on the left side provided ground access to the tower, and also a convenient place to take an enemy in the back should they gain the bailey's courtyard. Murder holes peered down upon the gate tunnel, ready for any manner of things to be dropped on unwelcome guests. The gate was stout Drakwald oak, aged, treated and banded with iron. When it finished nearly all the people in the highlands gathered. It was the greatest gathering outside of festival days and breeding season in living memory. The mood was merry as Dame Weber's banner was thrown over the top of the gate house for the first time, a proud symbol to hang over the gate. As the merry making began and ale began to flow the next generation was *ahem* worked into being.
Abelhiem was beaming as Rolf put his mark along with a written statement that the estate was satisfied with the work done. He led an ambling group of men, the masons and the carpenter, apprentices and journeymen in tow. Some new faces among them as sons and daughters were interested in the work. These young pups would have departed to the lowlands in lean times, likely never to be seen again. Instead they go to a prosperous trade, calling back to sweethearts and parents that they will return.
Markus had watched them leave with a certain bitterness. Mandred had a quiet word with Rolf, who had a quiet word with Brunhile, who soon chased the fool out of the house. He was too worried about leaving his family to go and learn woodworking proper. She had to remind him that they owned the dyeworks and when that didn't work she just threatened him with a smile that made him almost forget to pack. Idiot still got a big kiss on the way out and a pouch of coin waiting for him alongside his new teacher in Sonningwiese.
Mandred's curiosity was rarely aroused anymore. He enjoyed being able to sit by a fire and watch his son solve disputes in their Liege Ladies name. He might not think his corner of the world is important, but there are people who did and he was ok with being important to someone.
This place belonged to the Dämmerlichtreiter, they were loyal to her. Her shadow may rarely fall on them, but none could deny its presence.
Rolf Grosherde, Headsman and Steward of the Weber estate
Rolf Grosherde was rarely called such these days, he still felt awkward being called headsman or Steward. Lately he wasn't even called that, every traveler just kept calling him the Reeve. His father happily faded from the public eye, directing all concerns to the keep. He found these new duties heavy but enjoyed it nonetheless. He was quite used to his father's view of most people, keep them far away, at least you always knew where you stood with sheep.
He was just entering manhood when the Dame came. He remembered how quickly she managed to fix the worst of living in the highlands. The things that made life better, the blacksmith, the well and the granary simple things that were never done! When he was named steward he thought of those things when he was told to use some of the taxes to improve the village. He worried greatly in those early years and when she came back the last time he had to finally ask in a roundabout way how much was he allowed to invest? Not only did she give her permission she promised to get a Jade wizard out here to speed things up for them! Dame Mathilde Weber had his loyalty, as was her right as his liege. After that he swore he would rather die than betray that loyalty as his people grew richer and happier. It was returned by her in the simplest way, trust.
Rolf didn't consider himself smart, but he knew enough, the connections formed as he took his morning walk. Dairies, granaries, loom works, a Tavern! Important places had these things. Important places get attacked, He had better look into that. He spoke with the Roadwardens, the captain in the area was an older grizzled veteran by the name of Gregor. He spoke darkly of his days patrolling the frontiers of the wilderness in Middenland, hard villages that knew they were surviving on luck. Towns that had given up trying to grow beyond the initial founding. Every time they expanded, Gregor explained, something wiped out the new industry and its workers, the expanded works unable to reside within the limited space behind the walls.
Theodrick, Markus's boy, got his pension delivered with the weekly ale, despite his missing arm he remained a merry man. It helped that he could still fight better than every man in the highlands and most of them in Sonningwiese as well. He spoke of the villages in the frontiers of Eastern Stirland, even the lowest of them having a thin wall to keep out the roaming threats of that grim land. The bailey and keep would survive anything short of a full beast herd or raiding party to the men's more experienced eye. The burgeoning village likely wouldn't.
That thought sent a shiver of horror down his spine. The last threat that could kill more than a couple people in the area was last spoken of as a dim and distant tale by his grandfather, best guess of the time frame was at least 300 years ago. He would not make his people survive on luck. He sent a runner down to the EIC office and not two weeks later a man came hiking up and asked to see him. He introduced himself as Oswin and asked plainly what he wanted. Rolf spoke in halting words, despite being a rather well educated man by local standard he was aware the man in front of him could make his simple numbers in lines dance to create wonders to a man like him.
"I need a message sent to Dame Weber, for permission but I pray she will accept the need. This land hasn't… been rich ever, now we got a bit thanks to her, and I thank Sigmar every day that she came up here. But the land… it ain't got a lot, what little we have is all right here." he flapped his hand towards the cluster of buildings that have spread in the shadow of the bailey and keep. "One thing goes wrong out there." Rolf waved back towards the surrounding area, hills, small copses of trees in the shallow valleys and crisscrossing it all streams that dry as quickly as they form. His hand dropped towards the small cluster of buildings. "This goes away, maybe we don't have the money to rebuild. Maybe the Dame is killed saving the world and it all goes away. I don't want my people's things lost by laziness." Oswin was quiet for a bit and then started talking fast, he and his family did work with the EIC, his nephew needed a proof of mastery piece, for using a non master a 5% discount was extended. He took Rolf's letter, scratched out as best he could and said he'd see it to the EIC office.
Months later with no word back through the EIC he decided that he would follow her original instructions and invested as he saw fit. In this case fortifications, better to build it when they had the time, he figured, then need it when they don't. Sinking in a good deal of money he gave the order to begin construction.
He was proud of his people, and their work. A sturdy palisade now surrounded the cluster of houses and buildings that surrounded the keep. Where once a simple bailey stood a new one stood, partially built of stone and a sturdy gatehouse made entirely of it. The banner of Dame Weber had yet to stand atop the gatehouse, to signify she was in residence. Instead the men had tied it off atop the gatehouse, dangling down towards the gate. Despite this it was still one of the tallest buildings around and provided a good landmark for the shepherds to navigate from.
Some had wanted to rebuild the keep in stone, but that gave him chills down his back, didn't he explain how expensive good stone was? He had managed to get most of the grumbling down by setting aside some of the tax money to pay Theodrick and a dozen youths as guards. Every man in the highlands followed the militia law without hesitation, but a semi-permanent force that trained and patrolled set a great many minds at ease. Theodrick ended up hiring two old army friends, a pot-bellied man named Walter who claimed to have been a handgunner before a misfire took two fingers and his right eye. As well as a twitchy man with a crossbow by the name of Henkel. The two of them proved a solid team, stationed in the Gatehouse. They were also the only permanent men outside of Theodrick. The others stood guard no more than once a week, their training at least 12 hours a week under the "gentle" hands of Sergeant Henkel and Walter.
Theo did end up getting on some nerves when he started swanning around like a prized ram as "captain of the Guard" for a couple weeks. One glare from Johann and the threat of no more kumis saw the airs be put down. A brutal dressing down by his mother saw him apologizing to the people for being an ass. Rolf had a quick word with Elrisse who saw to another 25 gambesons being made, these ones not undyed like the armories stock, rather they were a nice grey, just like the Dame's robes. Each man of the guard stood a little taller wearing it, their pride in their lady stiffened spines and sharpened their eyes. After another year passed and Dame Weber didn't descend from the sky in one of them flying machines he figured that this was alright.
Even better was the Roadwarden's now decided that the estate could be an outpost! Rolf was ecstatic, it meant a break on taxes as long as the village provided a reinforced building to house at least a dozen men, their mounts and provide them with supplies. Captain Gregor was happy to have a place to rest in the hills for when they had to make sure a threat didn't come back or pursue the smugglers who hid among the wide expanses. He also confided in Rolf and Theodrick that if something ever did bubble over to hit the area Theo and his boys were the only force in the area capable of stiffening a militia line. As such the estate was quietly added to a number of lists for the authorities, some of these lists ended up in quite high hands indeed. Most had the same reaction as the reports were filed away, better to have one more fortified base should the worst come to pass…
Jerryk had even brought him these little nuts that tasted good and he said that he planted them a small grove of the trees nearby in thanks for welcoming him. He called them chestnuts and they kept quite well, good to hold onto for winter. Jerryk spun a yarn in the tavern later (not that Rolf would admit he was snooping) said they were grown in places like here in Estalia and Brettonnia. Areas that didn't grow regular crops well. Rolf was quite happy that they could grow here, they provided shade and he could swear that the air was cooler around them even outside the shade. Sheep and goats roamed easy beneath their boughs, foraging for the dropped nuts that were missed. A wonderful thing to see and just one more thing that would have never been seen without the Dame coming up all those years ago. Now if only he could get his daughter to stop flirting with the oblivious wizard!
He worried over the months as he took on more and more duties, overseeing disputes between the dairy manager and the Looms owner Matron Elrisse, no longer did he oversee breeding's or simple disputes over dowry, but laws, judgments and competing interests between merchants. Yet Rolf never would waver in his Liege's interest, she had earned that with her trust in him. He felt a wellspring of pride every time he looked to her words carved into the wall of the keep. Whispers of her deeds circled back as trade increased, she was doing great deeds. Lady Mathilde had trusted him to act in her name and he would prove worthy of that trust. Let them come and try to take the heart of his people, she trusted them to see to themselves and they would not be found wanting.
Jerryk
This was an odd estate, the hinterlands of the hinterlands of the province and strangely welcoming for Stirlanders. He was moving through Altdorf, having helped his master finish some research into the metaphysical echo of the Drakwald wood and how to begin to cleanse that area of taint. He saw the announcement and the reward was substantial enough to risk traveling to such an area. HIs visible arcane mark caused many to shun him, the last noble he had helped with his failing vineyard refused to shake his hand. He was soon climbing the road to the estate, it was well made, if not especially well traveled.
Ghyran was quick and transient in these lands, little sign of the pools that sustained life yet it was diffused throughout the area allowing a shallow pool but wide indeed. The Steward and his father stared at him quite a bit but didn't appear ready to marshall up a mob. When he made his introductions the steward Rolf shook his hand with only a moment's hesitation, saying if he needed anything don't hesitate to ask. He preferred the outdoors but was happy to hear a room was prepared in the keep for him to use, meals included. With the pleasantries with the local authorities done. Jerryk was eager to set out into the herds to get them ready to become one big herd.
It took him only a week to get to know the disparate herds and the newcomers that they wanted to breed in. The sheep were almost ready, when he was young the Amber and Jade colleges argued greatly about where he belonged. In the end he was too skilled in dowsing and the elemental side of Ghyran for his obvious connection to animals to win out. He hummed an ancient tune, keeping in rhythm as he got to know the two herds. Soon to become one, he picked the strands of Ghyran of desirable traits, those that will make life thrive and flourish in this place. He saw a number of curious faces watching from the keep as the swirling magic filled the herds, enabling a quick crossbreeding of desirable traits, the work was started, a solid base to build upon. It would only take one to two more seasons provided he isn't run off.
The birthing that followed was talked about a great deal, numerous young women approached him as the small crowd of field hands made quick work of the births among the sheep.
"Don't suppose you do that type of work to people?" One comely lass, her hair bright red asked.
"What?"
"Got an aunt down in Sonningwiese, wants a kid but can't seem to make the seed quicken. Herb's ain't working, seemed to work on the sheep."
"Err, yeah I can meet with her, see if something can be done."
That was the start of it, for the first time in his life he was popular where he worked. Jerryk was rather bemused by it all, women were asking on behalf of relatives, who soon were shooting back asking his own marital status causing him to be glad his beard and wild hair hid his burning red face. At the tavern a number of men cornered him and got him drunk. It was the first time he spoke of the feelings he had of isolation. He spoke of how many villages that he answered their call for aid saw him as a danger. They treated him as a dangerous if useful beast, to be kept at a distance.
Despite his feelings towards their treatment of him, he wanted to be the best wizard he could. So he fulfilled his oaths and refilled granaries, made crops grow and water flow. The next day he was mortified and sure he would be driven out. Instead he was greeted with open arms as the shearing began, many hand claps and some bemused staring as he allowed a number of people to poke at his glowing tattoos. This place wasn't so bad. They judged him based on the worth of his work and they found it fine indeed. He was happy to have another stop along his wanderings in the area, especially one that didn't treat him like a threat.
In thanks Jerryk started planting chestnut trees. He was honestly surprised they hadn't been imported before considering the terrain was just what they liked. He found a nice little stretch around one of the smaller streams, it was fairly regular and didn't already have one of the small coppices the people used for wood. With magic and skill he brought the area to life and soon had a thriving grove of small chestnut trees. With time and patience these trees could provide a steady stream of income and food to the people here.
Every Festag that he was here he gathered with the locals. He had been making excuses to stay in the area and found plenty in Stirland to keep him busy and paid. This area treated him the best out of any on his route, plus Mathilde was quite nice and curious about Jerryk and magic in general. Mandred cackled a great deal as he watched his granddaughter flirt with the magical newcomer, he crossed his fingers as any herdsman did when they saw a storm on the horizon. It could destroy the land and scatter your herds, but it also swelled the streams and brightened the grass…
Rolf saw all this and frowned a great deal even as he enjoyed the kumis that had some tradesmen asking if they could sell it elsewhere. Rolf then looked at the strong new walls and growing little village that was founded in the shadow of a shrine of Ranald and his devotee. The statue had been tucked away for some time as more and more people traveled to get the best prices on raw wool and the brilliant blue bolts of wool fabric that recently found their way to the market. They left speaking of the delightful goat and sheep cheese's the area offered, along with a strong spirit called kumis. The shrine to Ranald had been hidden for nearly a year now. He doubted that would change with the amount of traffic coming up to the highlands. This place would need a name soon he realized, but that would be a decision for Lady Weber. Rolf prayed to Sigmar but whenever he thought of the little wolf shaped shrine tucked away he couldn't help but feel the dealer was stacking the deck for their little corner of the world.
