*About a week later…*

Velador and I enjoyed a glass of wine in front of the hearth one afternoon when commotion disrupted what he was writing down to one of his noblemen.

“My lord, my lord, this drover has urgent news!” Parathon shouted as he entered with an older man pushing forward despite his limp.

Velador put his quill in the well and asked, “Are you harmed? What happened?”

“The village of Gravenbury, far, far to the east of our lands. You know ...