Abner, after two days of traveling, finally found the woods to be transitioning. Slowly the thick amber leaves, and powerful close trunks of the east forests fell away. In their place were the lower lands of west Northguard. In this, the roads weaved their way high above the forest floor that, during the rainy season, would flood into a swampy region of muck and mist. Even during the colder portion of the year, when many of the trees had shed their leaves, people would note a haunting feeling to the west forest. Talks of strange noises in the night, and even stranger people.
"The people of Willow's Nest are a strange folk." Travelers would say. "They wander about, hiding in the mist. Always, they'll see you long before you see them." Abner had even heard similar opinions spoken of the western tribes from those at Mountcrane. While they would never be so harsh towards their tribal brethren, they still could not deny, the westerners kept an older way that the eastern folk had long since left behind. So, the two regions of Northguard had created an unofficial divider between themselves.
Abner thought little of this. While he was the official Magi watching over all of Northguard, he was anointed into the house of king Malakai, not Barak. So, he held more influence in the east. A thing which he greatly preferred.
Indeed, as he finally made it to the end of his journey, and closer to his home, the Magi could feel his spirits growing. Ever since he first arrived in the north, the haunted marshes and forests of Northguard had always intrigued his poetic mind. The weeping willows, and the lonely swamps reached deeply into his imagination to draw out a childlike wonder with the world around him. But none did this more than the castle of Willow's Nest itself.
Out from the forest he rode to an opening to look down upon a great moor. Within this open circle, a great dead lake sat, still and covered with a dense fog that no light could penetrate. A half mile within this lake, a large island sat, giving the lake about it a moat like appearance. And, upon this island, the ancient fortress of Willow's Nest stood.
Haunting, and gigantic. Its many spiked battlements and tall black stoned walls made it look like something from an ancient time. As well, for all anyone knew, it was. No man knew what king had ordered its construction. And too many wars since had left any note or carving of culture gone from the place. When the tribes of the north had first come upon it, their wise men informed them to stay away from such a place.
"Any king who made such a castle and still lost it to his enemies," They said. "Was simply a bad omen of a man. And anything his hand touched would carry this curse. Abner loved this story. When Malakai told him of it during their campaign, it had only stirred up his curiosity more to take his magic tomes and personally investigate the place.
Now, looking down the hill at the place from atop his horse, he felt a pride of being home swell within him. He urged the steed on down and across the moor. Crows could be heard crying out to him from far off tufts of grass, and occasionally one would draw closer to speak words those who dwelled nearby the castle had taught them. He would call back to them, and throw a bit of his travel rations to those who ventured close enough.
Once the open land had been crossed, he took his horse upon the great stone bridge spanning the width of the lake between the island and shore. A more recent construction Malakai and his soldiers had done after he had risen to power, and Abner had convinced him to take up residence within the fortress. The horse trotted along the stone, hooves echoing their solitary rhythm as mount and rider made their way through the fog. For some time he went along, the fog remaining as this as it did from the very beginning.
"You've taken your sweet time getting back." A voice echoed all about him, wafting in and out like the wind. Abner halted his horse and looked about. "What took you so long?" No figure came forth to present themselves, and the voice clearly sounded unattached to a stationary being. However, he recognized the voice.
"Hello, dear sister." He smiled and started the horse forward once more, unfettered by her angry tone. "Where are the guards? Sent home to their loving families?"
"Don't start." Her voice echoed and shimmered about him through the fog, picking up the mist as certain points and swirling it about. "If you must know, many of them have been sent out to the groves under order of our oh so faithful king. Or should I say, under order of you." Her voice carried a heavy glaze of contempt. Abner pursed his lips.
"Hmm? Me? I have no memory of this." Her laugh ran up and down the entire bridge.
"Oh, you wouldn't, would you. Well, think back, my brother. Back to the night before you left." He did so, and cocked his head to the side when answering.
"I seem to recall having words at the royal table, about how it might be wise to improve our defenses."
"Oh, so you remember. How nice."
"Yes, well, I did not tell him to send our soldiers to hide away in the groves." The voice let out a long sigh.
"Abner, he did not send them to simply go there. He sent them to recruit." The horse stopped.
"Recruit? From the groves?"
"Yes."
"Why would they be bothered with helping us? They're nearly no better than the cave dwellers near the Pass."
"They aren't going to help us, you old fool. But that matters not to our king. He has heard your endless sermons of war and now seeks to respond." Her voice sounded sad upon the end, and another sigh came from the fog. Then the words sounded desperate, like a wife begging her child to focus on their studies instead of playing with the dog. "Brother, he listens to you. What did you think would happen." He kept riding, and neither spoke for some time. Then once more the voice rippled through the fog. "I have sent Berren to open the gate. Come see me first. I'll be in the tower."
"Listens to me?" he whispered to himself. "Won't be saying that much longer, now will we?"
Abner rode on a bit longer, then he heard the rattling of chains, and the old familiar shifting of metal and wood signifying the drawbridge lowering some distance ahead in the fog. A lantern, dim within the haze, waved back and forth and from where it moved about, a hunched figure began to take shape. Abner, putting the previous conversation behind him, added a smile to his withered face and urged the horse to speed up.
"Hello there, Berren. How are things?" Upon the drawbridge a wrinkled old man stood, bent and saggy. His robes hung loose and heavy upon him. Much of his own weight was being kept up by a birch staff in his right hand, atop which the lantern had been hung. His voice shook as much as the rest of his frail body.
"Yes, yes things are rather well, Mr. Abner." The man followed the horse over the wooden bridge and under the tall archway of the gate. His staff echoed off of the stone with each step. "How was your trip east? Still prefer the swamps here?"
"Oh, you think I would ever prefer anything over my home, Berren?" The gravel courtyard beyond lay empty and gloom filled. Abner looked about. Dozens of torches lined the walls and battlements, but not a single figure moved about in their light. He looked to the keep, stable, and armory, and saw nothing moving beyond their windows. "Eh, Berren?"
"Yes, sir?"
"Has the fortress been abandoned, in my absence?" They both walked along to the stables.
"Oh, not at all sir."
"Then where might everyone be? I have heard that some of the guards were sent away to the groves."
"Yes, sir. And the rest were sent about to the villages and forests on similar missions. In fact, the king has sent up to a dozen riders to seek out fishing villages along the coast."
"The coast? That's at least a four day ride from here."
"Indeed it is, sir. However, after the stories the new sword master told king Malakai, it seemed fitting to-"
"New sword master?"
"Er, the one that came here with your scribe."
"Oh, him." Abner dismounted, and led the animal into the stable where he began looking about. "Well, has the stable boy been sent away too?"
"Eh, no. He's about here someplace." Berren took the reins from the Magi. "You go on, Mr. Abner. I will find him and have him tend to your animal. I'm sure you're needed in other places." Abner hesitated, but eventually nodded. He thanked the old gatekeeper before turning with his pack over his shoulder and headed on.
Within the fortress, there were many areas one might explore about. The keep itself had been constructed of two large buildings, with battlements of their own, and with several towers between them. They had been connected by a bridge, which was the only method of gaining access to the second building, positioned in the back of Willow's Nest. It was through here that the Magi found himself traveling through.
Dark rooms, with drawn curtains. He found not a single soul about. No soldiers or servants. Eventually, within the great hall, he walked to one of the tall windows and pulled the cloth back, letting the gray light shine through.
The thrones lay empty, along with the entire hall. Abner walked up to the royal chairs and stood before them. He had picked up a candelabra somewhere within the castle, and held its lit wax out before him. In the light, the throne to the left of the king's looked to be covered in a thick layer of dust. The Magi moved on.
Up a staircase to the right of the thrones, he went. Its hall wide and steps carpeted, he jogged up them and onward out the perpetually open passage leading onto the bridge. Here, he stopped once again.
The position reminded him of where he and the young queen of Mountcrane had talked briefly. Here, however, he was much higher up, looking not down into the courtyard, but beyond to the surrounding lake. On the opposite side of the fortress from where he had entered, there lay a small patch of willows growing on the island's peninsula facing the west. From this, there came a noise. Abner halted midway across the bridge to listen more intently, cocking an ear to the wooded cluster.
Two men, he surmised. Their cries came echoing through the cold moist air. They did not sound in pain, or anger. Rather, cries simulating battle. Abner had heard it many times during his time serving in the north. Someone was down among the trees training at battle. He walked to the edge of the battlements and leaned forward to hear better.
"Are you going to be keeping me all day, brother?" The voice shimmered around the bridge and directly into the Magi's face. He stumbled back, waving his arms about to ward the voice away. Once he had regained his feet, panting for breath, he looked up to the high tower near the back of the second building.
"You could be patient, you know that?"
"No, I can't. Hurry up." Abner trudged on, but looked over his shoulder once more towards the willows.
"Is he fighting again?" There was a pause, and Abner stopped and waited. "Kira, I said is he fighting again?" Still no response. Then,
"Yes." Abner turned about fully.
"That is interesting."
"Just come on. You need your medicine."
The Magi walked into the darkness of the second building, searching within his mind for connections between thoughts.
"Very interesting indeed."