Creator: Torbjörn Anderssén
Menidiath date: -
Morning sunlight was breaking over the ridges far above, and Vanshiyr-Doriyath was veiled in a fine mist. Though days had passed, the city still bore many scars from the recent turmoil, with rubble strewn in the streets and many misfigured buildings. Two men sat on a terrace overlooking the main square of their beloved city, considering all that had happened.
'I went by the Caster's path earlier. It was in dreadful condition. Broke my heart, it did,' the older one started, sadness trailing his voice.
'Mm. The lower markets hadn't fared much better...' the younger one continued. 'I just hope old Gothryn and his red balbeths didn't fare too badly.' They sat in silence for a while, regarding the scene around them.
'So where do the Carvers go from here? These machinations has been a bad blow not only to the nation, but the house itself. Things must change.'
'It is not for us to comment upon the actions of the house elders.'
'Feh! Their power plays have caused us all a lot of hardship, and now there will be even more Rakkhari guards around. And we still are supposed to keep quiet and trust?'
'Remember, youngling,' the older one replied with cold scorn, 'you are a carver for life, and such words will not prolong your life.'
The younger one considered these words for a while. 'True as that may be, it pains me to see this fair city so scarred.
'It pains us all. But this is the way of the world, and blood must be shed for change to happen and both the house and the city will heal. Do you duty as well you can, and through this serve your city.' The younger nodded in resigned obedience. Time passed in solemn silence. After a while, the two men rose from their bench and walked in quiet conversation as the sun rose and the mists dispersed and the streets were once more filled with people. Life in Vanshiyr-Doriyath went on, as it had to.