Chapter 49

  As much as Hektor would have loved to remain on the train and play tourist, it was nice to be out of the enclosed space of the cabins and work his muscles a bit.

  Though Hektor’s biggest regret of the day remained that he hadn’t explored the city of Stodard. That they were on a schedule and pressed for time were perfect reasons as to why he hadn’t, didn’t mean that it stung any less. The first city he had visited besides his home and Hektor had only managed to see Stodard’s train station and its outskirts.

  Hektor’s immediate surroundings, however, went someway to appease any disappointments he had and demanded his full attention.

  So many things had been a first for Hektor on the day and finding himself in a forest was another.

  Having never been before, every quality of the forest was a raw and original experience. From the sight and smell of so many trees, to the greenery and untamed land itself, to the sounds of the wilderness and the rustle of millions of leaves; every sensation was one Hektor hadn’t experienced before.

  The thing that confused Hektor the most was the air. Not its scent or its temperature, but that the air was bafflingly more breathable. Cleaner and more enriching than the air he had breathed all his life in Faymoren.

  It boggled his mind that air, of all things, could be so different between two places!

  As exciting as it was daunting to find things could be so different to what he had taken for granted. What else might he discover to be different in his forays? Was there something so strange that it would shake his beliefs and flip his opinions entirely?

  Lehen Forest was old and felt old. An ancient place that had been spared by the hands of man. The only signs of civilization being the very path they were riding on.

  It was as strange a place as any for a city boy like Hektor. At one point, the alienness of the forest had played tricks on his mind. The trees seemed to converge on him and trap him in their midst, lost in their maze. Thankfully, the moment had passed as quickly as it appeared.

  Not an expert on plants by any stretch of the imagination, Hektor turned his head slightly and addressed Williams behind. “Am I mistaken, or are the trees oak, maple, and birch?” he pointed out to the most numerous of their kind.

  Williams, looked to the trees Hektor had singled out. “Sage oak, red maple and silver birch,” he elaborated.

  “They are beautiful,” Hektor admired truthfully.

  “Yes. They are, My Lord,” Williams shared the sentiment, though guardedly.

  “Are these the most dominant kind?”

  “To the north we have more willows and silverbarks. Pines and walnuts. And a little bit of this and that besides,” Williams answered tersely.

  “A credit to you and your predecessors for preserving this wonder,” spoke Hektor, the awe clear in his voice.

  At Hektor’s praise, Williams smiled and became friendlier in his address. “Thank you, My Lord. We are only passing through the slimmest portion of the forest. You will undoubtedly find more wonders deeper in the woods,” he shared.

  Hektor looked to him in shock. Such abundance and this was supposedly the sparsest section of Lehen Forest?

  “Goodness,” Hektor breathed as he looked around in wonder. He couldn’t help but fall a little in love with the place. And to love anything, meant that you were willing to protect it.

  Just like that, Lehen had ensnared another protector by its nature and bounty. Hektor wasn’t its first willing victim, nor would he be the last.

  Atop his horse, Hektor’s head was akin to that of a chicken’s. Always turning this way and that excitedly at spotting anything that grabbed his attention. Woodland critters, herbs, bushes, flowers, birds and singularly magnificent trees that caught his eye. And that was just scratching the surface. What wonders lay hidden in the deeper wilds?

  Their route was a relatively straight trek. Hektor had little to do but urge his horse to follow the lead of those in front. In his novice opinion, Hektor believed they were making good time, though he suspected that they could more than double their speed if it were an emergency.

  They passed a couple of cottages on their way with small wells dug nearby. Williams explaining them as rest-stops for weary travelers.

  There were few conversations to be had. Not on account of unwillingness, but that everyone appreciated the ambience of the forest and looked to enjoy and preserve the tranquility. Like a pilgrimage almost.

  Little more than an hour later, Hektor and company overcame a slight incline and broke the tree line of the forest.

  Not for the first time on the day, the view took Hektor’s breath away.

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  Spread before him like a patchwork quilt were acres upon acres of farmland. The land sectioned into colorful squarish plots of crops as if someone had stitched them together. With the undulating land making it seem as if a checkered sheet of cloth had been sprawled across fluttering in the wind.

  “Bless Glengard,” Hektor muttered and understood for the first time what it meant when people uttered those words.

  The Glengard Republic was a huge reason for places such as Ithica and others with limited arable lands to provide for their people.

  Since ancient times, Glengardians were experts in matters relating to Nature. They were a spiritual people who worshipped Gaia, the spirit of the world, with rooted beliefs in harmonious living.

  As part of their faith, they took it as a responsibility to prevent people from exploiting the earth. A manner in which they had done so in the past had been by sharing their knowledge and sending their druids, foresters and farmers to tend to foreign lands and teaching the natives their ways.

  Beyond farming techniques, they taught agricultural wizardry, alchemy and enchanting to the people to lessen the burden and keep others from pillaging the bounty of Gaia. They did so in accordance for Gaia’s sake and their fellow man’s.

  To this day, Glengard were the foremost authority on Nature related fields of study and profession, mundane and otherwise.

  And with the industrial revolution, their most recent calling had been propagating runes and artificing to lower the pollution produced by such vile practices.

  Such altruism and generosity had endeared Glengard to the masses of many a nation. One never bit the hand that fed them after all. Glengardians were thusly welcomed with respect and hospitality in every corner of civilized society.

  Spellbound by the vista, Hektor was jerked to alertness when his horse started moving, following the lead of those ahead.

  Out of the forest, the road was easier to traverse and Quincy increased their speed.

  Gratefully for Hektor, he could manage the pace and still have a look around.

  Small, but numerous farms spread out on either side of the road, their boundaries marked by wooden fences and small rock walls. The biggest farms were those of wheat, corn and potatoes. While the smaller ones were numerous with choice of root vegetables and other hardy crops of leafy greens. There were even a few orchards of fruit trees, though Hektor couldn’t make them out clearly at the distance. A few of the outer plots closest to the forest were being used as pens for cattle.

  An impressive network of wells and irrigation channels crisscrossed the fields. The entire layout had to be an endeavor of generations and meticulous care. The land tamed and tended to for centuries to transform into what it was today.

  Numerous cottages sprouted throughout. The homes of farmer families. Their proximity and numbers indicative that the acreage was divided and tended to by many households and not a single landowner.

  Getting close to sunset, it was a busy time for farmers looking to make the most of the waning light. Which meant there were many outdoors who stopped and craned their necks to see their new Count pass by.

  Hektor sat straighter and plastered a soft smile to his face, making sure to wave to the children who always waved back.

  Even on horseback, Hektor could spot the worry on the adult’s faces. They saw him as an intruder in their midst. A threat to their way of life. Scared of what the new Count’s coming could spell for them.

  Hektor wanted to reassure them and defend himself, but now was hardly the time for it. No, he would be patient and let his actions speak for him.

  They travelled on horseback for another half an hour when Hektor saw it.

  Nestled in a valley of rolling hills was the most picturesque town Hektor had ever seen. Not that he had seen a lot, but the town’s rustic charm and its very likeness invoked the most idyllic impression of comfiness and neighborly living.

  The first thing to jump out were the tiled rooftops washed by the sunlight into shades of red and brown atop buildings of stone walls, and the pretty chimneys wafting smoke like incense sticks. A river from the north-west branched into two, one diverging to the west of the town and flowing towards the farms where Hektor and his party were coming from. The other channel crossing through the city, flowing east.

  And a little further to the north, secluded on a hill overlooking the town, was a small fort from which the town and the territory drew its name.

  Roheim.

  As he gazed upon it all, Hektor couldn’t help reflect on the history of his new home.

  The fort had been commissioned some six hundred years ago, when Ithica had been a collection of warring states. A certain Lord Pembrooke had the fort constructed as his stronghold and christened it Roheim.

  With the Lehen Forest hiding them to the south and west, and the hills and cliffs shielding them to the north and east, Pembrooke had deemed it sufficient for his fiefdom. The coast was only twenty or so kilometers to the east, but seafaring wasn’t as prominent in the era and the subsequent region to entice Pembrooke. Nonetheless, the coast made for a prime location, yet Pembrooke had compromised and shown caution to the threat of sea raids. Building his refuge out of sight of the coast in a shallow valley.

  Later, after Ithica’s unification, Roheim had been overlooked for better prospects elsewhere when it came to settlements. The region was secluded and difficult to traverse. Most crucially, there were better options readily available for people to settle in the north, put down roots and secure livelihoods in more established communities.

  In time, a small community had sprouted around the fort and the forest culled to make way for farming. As decades turned to centuries and the population bloomed across the nation, Roheim transformed accordingly.

  A few homes surrounding the fort became a hamlet. The hamlet grew to a village. And the village transformed into the town that it was today.

  It was bizarre that Hektor felt a nostalgia about the place. Almost as if he seen the place prior. Like in a dream. Having read and studied so much about Roheim, Hektor found the place to be strange alteration of his imagination. As if he had explained Roheim to someone who had conjured it up for him.

  With contrition, Hektor realized that the very opposite was in fact true. That he had read about Roheim and imagined a place to be, and the dissonance between reality and his expectations was the cause for the nostalgia.

  “You have a beautiful home, Mayor Williams,” Hektor complimented.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” replied Williams simply, outright accepting that his home was indeed beautiful.

  Up ahead, Quincy dismissed the two riders that were with him and rode back to Hektor.

  “They will inform the household of your arrival,” Quincy indicated to the riders galloping towards town. “We will make our way through the town, by the thoroughfares and pass by the main town square. And then finally to the fort,” Quincy outlined the itinerary. “Or we could make directly for the fort. Your choice.”

  Hektor thought about it. He knew the right answer and the one he preferred.

  “Would it be alright to pass through the town, Mayor Williams?” Hektor asked in courtesy.

  Williams looked appreciatively at Hektor and nodded. “Of course, My Lord.”

  “That’s decided then. If you would, Knight Quincy. Please lead the way.”