Bree-Town

I am astounded to hear that the mayor has approved the petition for the apprentice’s guild. No less than the chairmain of the merchant council himself, Mr Gembeard, proposed this petition in the last gathering.

Dear men of Bree, it is often thought that our town is nothing more than peasants, wheat and cattle. The outsiders say in their outlandish voices that we are a friendly albeit simple folk and that we are a slumbering village unaware of our history and our position in the world. So wrong they are, nothing could be less true!

We too have libraries and lore, and learned men studying the art of medicine and plants. We too have culture, men mighty with the pen and sharing worthy tales with the new generation. And we too make paintings, sculptures and poems.

The night was moonless, shrouding the port city of Bree in a thick blanket of darkness. Only the occasional lantern flickered weakly against the pitch-black sky, casting long, eerie shadows on the cobbled streets. Deorla moved silently through the alleyways, her lithe figure blending seamlessly with the shadows. She was a skilled burglar, known for her nimble fingers and quick thinking.

Repairing the damage from the rains and rodents, clearing the surroundings of the house of weeds, and leaving the windows open to air out the house had been Kennet's chores that morning. But just after lunch the young man had saddled Hawthorne again and set off for Bree.