The old sachem needed little further encouragement. Without delay, he began to relate the account of the origins of the Five Realms.
The tribes, as it turned out, had not always been so cohesive with each other. The tale of it all was quite fascinating, and featured a powerful Wizard from whom Deganawida had derived his own name. The ancient Wizard had brought the five tribes the Great Law, and instigated the Grand Council around the Sacred Fire, the flames of which had been tended and warded ever since then by the Onan tribe.
Even more intriguing, one of the major figures in that story was an Onan by the name of Ayenwatha, who had endured a terrible ordeal. In a time of great war and strife among the contentious tribes, the other Ayenwatha had lost his wife and three daughters. The tragedies had been attributed by many to an Onan shaman named Atotarho, a practitioner of magic who was given to dark leanings. Rumored to be under the sway of the Dark Brother, the malevolent shaman lived in the depths of the forest, and was reputed to have living snakes coiled within his hair.
It was in that time of terrible darkness that Ayenwatha had cried out in the midst of his tremendous grief, hesitating in pursuing the revenge that was expected in such loathsome situations. The Wizard Deganawida had heeded his call and come to Ayenwatha, bringing him consolation and revealing a new, more enlightened path for the tribes to take.
Out of that healing time, Ayenwatha had joined with Deganawida, and the two had worked together to found the Great Law, the Grand Council, and the Sacred Fire.
Ayenwatha had even shown compassion to Atotarho during that legendary time, bringing his former adversary to a kind of redemption that was represented with the combing of the shaman’s serpent-infested hair. The humbled shaman had renounced his previous ways, embraced the Great Law, and then had taken the second seat upon the Grand Council.
When peace and harmony among the five tribes had been achieved, and everything was set in place, the Wizard Deganawida had abruptly departed. It was said that one day, when the peace of the land had failed, and when the people faced certain destruction, that the powerful Wizard would return to them once again.
Logan found the story to be profound and compelling, rich as it was with the foundational elements of the Five Realms themselves. The tale was also intriguing, in that it contained the namesakes of two of their prominent hosts.
It also had another more immediate effect. By the time that Deganawida had finished, the mood of Logan and the others had been lifted up once again, and the look of serenity on Deganawida’s face was unmistakable. The renewed spirits were much more appropriate for a welcoming feast.
GUNTHER
The trespassers had unusually strange clothing, and their speech was like nothing that Gunther had ever heard before, not in even one of the many lands that he had traversed during his lifetime.
While they did not yet appear to be minions of the Unifier, Gunther stalked them with due caution. Life had long ago taught him very hard lessons about taking anything for granted. One erroneous judgement could be lethal.
Times were more shadowy and dismal than ever before. The most recent tidings were a constant burden to Gunther’s mind, and he wondered as to whether the strangers had anything to do with the darkness sweeping across the Saxan lands.
Males from the outermost villages of Saxany were being called up by a full-scale, general levy, known in the Saxan lands as the General Fyrd. The distressing news had reached Gunther’s ears when he had recently visited Ebba, an older blacksmith who lived within the village of Oak Crossing.
The village was the nearest human habitation to Gunther’s solitary woodland abode. It was named after an ancient, majestic oak tree that sat astride the crossroads of a couple of the more remote forest trails.
Not liking the droll field work that so many Saxan villagers were engaged in, Ebba had stepped forward when the village’s previous smith had taken sick and died. Having aided the smith often before, Ebba had gained just enough skill, and had scraped up enough equipment, to serve as an adequate blacksmith for the small village community.
As practically everyone needed his services, including all the other artisans, he had soon enjoyed a more prominent position in the village, even though his work was fairly mediocre.
His time was largely spent on simple, practical fare, such as the making of nails, working with small knives, and other common implements. He was also one of the very few people that the reclusive woodsman interacted with more than once a year.
The sight of the thin-faced older man was always amusing in itself to Gunther. Regularly coated with charcoal dust, and with his sparser strands of graying hair disheveled all about his narrow head, Ebba’s appearance alone had often evoked a smile from Gunther.
Gunther’s latest visit to Ebba had been for some strap-end clasps, a quantity of iron nails, a pair of small cutting shears, and the acquisition of a new hand axe head for use around his homestead. As Ebba retrieved and gathered the items together that Gunther had requested on his previous visit, the blacksmith had related the dire tidings that had cast such a pall over Saxan hearts.
A massive storm front of war had been hurled forth by the Unifier. It was heading directly eastward, rolling steadily towards Saxany, being conveyed through neighboring Ehrengard. Many allies of Avanor were involved in supporting the war effort, from what Ebba had learned from some messengers and Saxan warriors that had passed through the village on their way to designated mustering points.
There had been no choice left to King Alcuin in the face of the impending war but to issue a full levy summons. Even little, remote Oak Crossing had not found itself immune from the demands of the General Fyrd.
Ebba was one of the few remaining adult males left in Oak Crossing, just old enough that he was deemed incapable of holding up to longer marches. Ebba had still been working long hours to help ready the men of Oak Crossing that had since departed for their assigned mustering point.
Ebba had shaken his head sadly, describing what he had thought as he handed over reforged knives to anxious village men, and done whatever he could to shore up the iron heads of picks and scythes normally used for farm work. The only true weapons in the village had been the hunting bows possessed by a few of the men.
In Ebba’s opinion, a rabble was being sent out to meet a well-prepared invader in battle, and nothing about it boded well to him.
Gunther tried to comfort Ebba by reminding him that the villagers were just part of a much larger force that would include thanes, household warriors, and many other better trained and equipped men.
Nonetheless, the news had been very disheartening, especially as this was no summons for a localized defense. Ebba would have been expected to take part in repelling such a threat, as he was strong enough to hold a weapon. Rather, the Saxans were moving huge forces far from their home regions, bolstering up a line of defense that was being positioned in the far west of their realm.
The grim news had put Gunther on immediate alert, and he had mulled it all over carefully by the time that he had returned to his dwelling from Oak Crossing. He had kept the news in the forefront of his mind all throughout the far-ranging hunting foray that had now brought him to the very edge of Wessachia’s boundaries.
He did not often venture into the nearby County of Annenheim, but a part of him wanted to have a look around the outskirts of the area to see if he might come across any signs of the impending invasion.
A general levy of all able-bodied men, to be sent on a campaign, was no small matter. It heralded a very dangerous emergency, with existential implications for the Saxan Realm.