Suadurix Family/Fys'er

Sir Fys'er

Sir Fys'er Suadurix, and his brother sir Còir Suadurix. Both sailing in their individual boats, towards the island to the east of the isles, by the continent shore line they had set sail from, in search of Boght their father. While sir Fys'er heads to the east shore of the isle, his brother heads for the north western shore of the isle. Splitting up to make the search easier.

Sir Fys'er landed with his boat on shore. Where he went on land for the first time in days. In the first few hours he and his men sat down, and had their first breakfast in days on dry land. From the dunes he saw a man approaching their campsite. The man introduced himself as Robard a scribe, looking for work. “Noble lord? Robard is my name. Im hungry, and without work. This be the land of Sir Temple, where many know how to write, but few of us find work.” His willingness to work touched Fys'er. “So it is work your looking for? Well, seeing that non of us is from around here, we could do with someone who knows his way around here. Consider your services hired. Sit down and eat with us?”

Afther having eaten, sir Fys'er and his twenty one men, followed Robard the scribe to Oberndorf region. Two days they traveled to this region. Every town Sir Fys'er passed trough, he observed to the old folk, and the black birds. But no black bird that came and led them to an old lady named Caillagh. All this struck Robard as very strange, and caused him to have doubts about Sir Fys'er. Sir Fys'er eventualy told Robard about his mother, and the evil witch that had bewitched his mother and his father. He told Robard how his father Boght was transformed into a blackbird, by his evil mother in law; and how his mother was changed into an old women, so no-one would ever recorgnise her again. Now Robard understould why his master acted so strange.

A devoted son to his family, Sir Fys'er, who was technically first born. Even thoh he was born an identical twin to his brother Sir Còir. Sir Fys'er builded as the eldest of the family, his family home. The first thing he did, that day in Oberndorf, was visiting the local notary, in oberndorfs township.

Oberndorf is a rural region, governed from a township. The castle of the hill overlooked the township below. There where no walls around the administrative center. Only roadgates. The local bailiff was the chief magistrate, for the countess Night Ocean. She resided in the castle that guarded Oberndorf. Robard, Sir Fys'ers scribe, is a rather good scribe, but even so, he could not provide Sir Fys'er with a detailed account, of all the noble lords residing in the realm. Sir Fys'er learned that this strange new land he found himself in, was governed and mainly populate by a halfbreed people. A crossing between fairies, and human kind. They called themselfs Elfs, and claimed to have something like, a grandfather claus. Is this their god? He could not tell. Robard his scribe wasnt able to provide him with an answer to that eighter. While in the waiting room of the notary, Robard his scribe came running trough the door. Making quite an entrance. “Robard, my scribe? Try make less of a grand entrance? Its unbecoming for a lord to have his servents barge in trough a door, like a battle ram.” Sir Fys'er reprimanded. Not because he feld disapointed. Not the least. But he had to uphold a social status, and a servent comming trough a door like a wild bull, leaves little of an impression on fellow nobles.

Robard apologised, but was to exited to pull a sour face. His first task as a scribe. Sir Fys'er had received a letter from a local lord, by the name of Zypher. Fys'er opened his letter while waiting in the waiting room. Sir Zypher worte him: “Greetings, Sir Fys'er. Welcome to Sirion, the home of mighty Elves. Although I am not an Elf myself, I must admit this realm is one of fine culture and tradition.

We are currently in the middle of the war with Perdan, a neighbouring realm. If you can find time outside your search for your parents, we would certainly love you to join us.

Good luck in your search. I noticed a lot of black birds in Sirion City. You could try there. Zypher (Knight of Oligarch)”

Sir Fys'er received a warm welcome, and was simulataniously extended an invitation to join them in a war, a war he knew nothing about. “Where is this Perdan?” He asked Robard. But he received contemtious looks from the people in the waiting room. Like he just said something entirely unappropriate. “Sir, Perdan has been these peoples enemy for years. This war has lasted them since as long as anyone can remember. I know not much about it, being to young myself. But I beleive you should see Duke Doc Primus. He knows of this realms history. He is considered by many as very wise.” Robard was quite wise himself. For explaining it like that, gave sir Fys'er a chance to safe face with a simple aproving nod. People in the waiting room understould now that Sir Fys'er was indeed a foreigner to this land. Before he went in the notary his office sir Fys'er took it one step further. “Oh! Robard? Could you be so kind as to look up for me a blacksmith? On account for some armor.” With a wink he sended Robard on his way, as he himself entered the office space of the notary.

The notary kindly invited him to sit down. “Please, noble lord? In what way can I be of service to your lordship?” The notary humble requested of Sir Fys'er. “I wish to eighter puschase land, or a house of good quality, and maintainance? Have you such properties for sale?” Sir Fys'er replied. The Notary did draw a a patriotic crowd to his office. There for his next reply would have been no shock to many a folks ear. “Yes, sir! I have many such fine properties for sale. Building land there be enough of here. But loyal subjects to the realm, and our prime minister, are in short suplies here. The trouble is that many their loyalty has been demanded, by ones patriotic duty. But so many are comming here with their foreign gold. Making folk forget whoes their leige lord. Have you swoarn your oath?” The insult of it! A notary asking a noble, if he has swoarn to his liege lord, an oath of fealty. But the notary was a man of influance, and not wanting to spread the seeds of hatred, before he had even baught himself a home, would be foolish. “I have been invited by her ladyship, to swear my oath of fealty to her. This when her ladyship has the time to receive me aswell. I wish not to press on the matter, but have urged her ladyship to accept me at her convenience. Further more, I beleive it to be proper if I had a home first. To be able, to show myself more pressentable to her ladyship.” His words disarmed the hard right comments of the notary. This man, Fys'er feld, he should better keep his guard up, while around him and his kind.

When Fys'er concluded his business, with the notary, he returned outside with the key's to his new home. Kindly provided by the notary. More like in the sense of good ridence. Robard met with Fys'er outside the Notary. “Your lordship? I have found a kind blacksmith willing to make you an armor. I took the liberty of asking him if it could be made on downpayment.” Fys'er looked fulfilled at his scribe. “That was very considerate of you sir Robard. I just baught the family a house downtown here in Oberndorf. It costed my family fortune a two hundred gold peices. But the notary said, if its well cared for, I will be able to get a hundred gold peices back for it, when I move. This limiting the costs to buy a new house. I have to be carefull with our gold. My brother and sister depend on this gold. Its all mother and father left us, including what gold the duke added to this wealth. We have only 950 gold left.” Robard and sir Fys'er walked down the small mainstreet talking. While the gentle tapping of horse hoofs passed them by. From the carts to the coaches. They crossed over into an alley, called Night Moon alley. It was called that because it had a curve shape like a half moon. In this alley peddlers where selling their wares everywhere. Shops beautyfully brightend the street up, with a certain romance about it. The alley was home to many a peoples business. Soon sir Fys'er realised that his house was in a small side alley, additional to this alley, and going no where. A death end alley, called apropriatly, Night Moons Heart. It was clear that the notary tried to give him a run for his money; quite litterly then. But this could not have gotten quite more suitable for sir Fys'er, as he and his family where born from a artisan merchant. This sort of a street is where he got born in.

Fys'er stould before his house, and looked around him. The alley would be quite dark at night. But how would it look on the inside of the house? He stuck the key, in the keyhole. The key turned smoothly in its keyhole. This was it! Days at sea, a youth in a castle, and a young but shortlived happyness in a home, just like this one, but with his mom cooking her brew, and the house smelling of herbs, and potions. His mother being a good witch, never quited her ancient art. His father afther a hard days work, in the comfortable chair by the table. Ah the raskels they where. Him and his brother. Oh, his father Boght, enjoyed every minute of the attention his chidren gave him. His sisters drawings for her dad, his brother and him having made a total mess of things again. Those where their good days. The days before the evil witch, took it all away from them. She paid for it with her life. But the harm was done. His mother told them allways, “What goes out of you, will return tree fold back on to you!” His evil grandmother did pay the treefold for her crimes. This house shall be the tree fold for his mom and dad, when he finds them.

As he stands there in his trance, feeling the key to his home; a sudden shake of his shoulder brings him back out of his trance. “Sir? Sir, snap out of it sir? You have been standing about here for like a whole quarter of an hour, sir.” It was Robards hand that had given his shoulder a shake. He feld like entering and saying, “Mom, Im home!” But he could not. He stould there in the living of his house. The room was empty, the fireplace had no wood in it, and had not been cleaned since the former owners had left. But Fys'er could look beyond all the dust, and sud. He saw the warm scene of his childhood memories reapear before him. His fathers comfortable chair by the fireplace, with the one of his mother on the opposite side. The round floor rug they played on as kids. The corner where the living room table stould. The cupboards withtheir bottle glas windows for the cups, and under them the shelves for the dinner plates. The draws for the spones, and the doors bellow; with behind it the table linnen shelves. The book shelves of fathers books. And his favorite, the small toy closet fitting nicely under the window. The tree of the old Beltaine feast his mother cellebrated. With the gifts, the food, and the friends. A feast of love, compasion, a feast in honor of the good god, his mom worshipped.

The snow at winter would make Oberndorf beautyfull. The windows had to be cleaned also. But he could make it a heavonly place to return to. He went into the citchen trough a door in a corner by the fire. It was a little of center, from where his parrents house had the door to the citchen. But it did not matter. The citchen had a nice citchen table. Some filth on it. But he looked past all that. He saw only his memories of his mother preparing food. The fire over witch the cauldron hung, in witch she boiled the soup, did the laundry, and brew her potions. “This place is filthy! Full of dirt! AND... It stinks! If you dont mind me saying so?” Tried Robard politly. But it remained cruel to say. Fys'er ignored Robards comments. “Robard, this place suits me just fine. Run to the castle and make me an appointment to see the countess. When asked, say that sir Fys'er wishes to make his oath of fealty, to her ladyship. If she is not in the region, write her a letter, requesting an audiece with her ladyship.” Fys'er saw Robard out, and as he did so, he saw an old lady by his house staring home sick at it. He walked out of his house, to the old lady, and kindly asked. “Mother? Is your name Caillagh?” A bit confused she looked up, and replied. “Son, I have not been called mother, because I have never had any children. My name is not Caillagh. I was servent to the former master of this house hold. When I was dismissed by the former master, and the house was put out for sale. The notary did not find me any usefull at all. So I lived on the streets, and made a living sewing other peoples clothes. While my husband made his living fixing stuff for people. I saw you gentlemen walking towards the house, and had hoped for a position within this house?” If not the appearance of the old lady, then it would have been her suffering, that made him pitty her. So he accepted her as cook, and household manager. Her husband he ask her to bring over to. She did not doubt it for a second, and went of to fetch him right away.

Meanwhile Robard returned from his errent, with some rather disappointing news. When he arrived at the castle, the guard of the catle gates told him that her ladyship, had been packing her things, and had just an hour earlier left for neighbouring Tabost region. Robard also told him that Fys'er better get his things together also, for the army is to be assembled at once in Oligarch citty. While Robard made his report to sir Fys'er, the old lady had returned withher husband. She introduced herself as Clare, and her husband Charles. Again the family trick of not knowing the language, so they can alter a given name into a name in their mothers language, was implemented. He therefor called the old lady, Aunty Sorcha; and the old man as, Father Tearlach.

“Who are they?” Robard asked. “Ah, the end to the bad smell, and the birth of cleanliness. Robard, meet Aunt Sorcha, and father Tearlach. They will be living with us. Our young legs will cary us to the top floor, take the 1st floor bedroom?” With that said, he turned to Roabrd and told him to send a request to her ladyship, insteald of a request in person. Robard went of to it, while sir Fys'er went to see a carpenter for some furniture, and rug guild for some rugs.

Not very hard, as the stores where just outside the alley. By the time he had done his shopping, Robard had finished the written request. While at home awaiting his approval, and his sealing. Sir Fys'er made an other short stop on the road. He stopped and the blacksmith, to have his measurements taken for his armor. “Your ladyship, Countess of Oberndorf. Lady night Ocean.

With these, my writing, I wish to inform your ladyship, of my disposition towards your ladyships position as my liege. I have not yet been able to make my oath of a liegance, to your ladyship. I am most greatfull, to be so rapidly accepted into your ladyships trust and confidence. As a loyal knight to your ladyship, I wish to make it know before god, and the world, that your ladyship holds me in her service.

At your conveniance, please make good of my time, to call on me for my oath to be made before thee? Your servent, my lady.” As such Robard had written the request to her ladyship, as such it was sir Fys'er aproved and sealed it.

Sir Fys'er knew that if he wanted to become a respected member of sociaty, he had to make to most out of every oppertunity, to proove him a trustworthy knight of Oberndorf. So that they he gatherd what armor and weapons he had, and left with his men for the citty of Oligarch.

Four hours afther leaving he arrived in Oligarch citty. Just in time to get him a room at the inn, and have himself a good nights rest. The next morning he decides to go out in town and explore the citty. Socialising with the people and listing to their myths and legends.

By nightfal he returned to his room in the inn. He took his lunch inside the inn. He looked foreward to a peacefull night and going to bed early. He had not heard anything from anyone. Not on his mother and father, and nothing from his liege. That night he went to bed early.

The next day he walks trough the streets of Oligarch sightseeing. He walks to the bank of Sirion. There he has from his family gold, gold send to his brother and sister to help them in their careers. When he leaves the bank, Robard joins him with orders from the ministry of defence. He is to move his unit to Bruck. At once.

He gathers his soldiers, and sets out for that region called Bruck. “Eh? Robard... In wich direction lies this Bruck?” Robard laughs friendly, and points his lord in the direction of Bruck.

By morning they arrived in Bruck a rural region of Old Rancagua. As he enters one of the regional villages, his medalion suddenly begins to glow. With the first rays of light coming from behind the eastern forrest, he suddenly sees twenty four stars shooting across the morning sky. “Twenty four brave souls, just joined the spirrits. My sister is now without a unit. They all died bravely in battle.” Sir Fys'ers name isnt for nothing in his mothers language, 'Insight', for sir Fys'er has an incredible insight in many things. He knew right away that his sister had suffered a great loss. But sir Fys'er is confident that the good god of his mother is looking afther them. He kneels down in prair for his sisters men, who died gloriously in battle. Then suddenly a black bird lands on his shoulder. It looks like a real bird, turning its head to get a good glimps of him. “kra kra kra kra” The bird goes, and it flies due south. Is it a sing? Sure it was! Fys'er knew it wasnt its father, but realised it was a sign of the good god. The sign told him his sister had found out where his mothers journey began, but the bird showed that she somehow ended up down south of EC island. Could it be his mother was in the south? The birds exact course, Robard explained to him; would take him straight to Perdan. This took him his breath away. “Why perdan? The good gods ways are truly mysterious.” He said mumbling. He goes straight to the mansion of the local lord, to ask of him to relay a letter from him to his brother sir Còir.

They come by a huge fortress, overlooking a small township. It had no walls, for the fort was so huge, that they could fire from it straight down on their enemies. Before you could enter the huge castle you had to make your way uphill. For pedestrians there was a staircase in the rockface. They climbed those stairs for an whole half hour. Soaked in swet they are received at the gate house. Behind it layed a huge draw bridge and a hundred meter drop straight down.

They asked the guard at the gate if the stuart of the castle lord was in, or if the lord was in himself. “The count is not at home now. He has gone with the king to war across the sea. The stuart of his household you can find inside.” “But the king is here? I heard of his leaving for a place called Gadlock...” “Like I said my lord, the count has gone with the king to fight overseas.” He dared not to say much more. He need to get his letter send trough to his brother. “Are you the stuart of the counts household?” he asked a man coming into the courtyard from the main building. “Yes I am his lordships stuart. What can I do for you?” “I need to send him a request?” “That is his lordships scribe! Right there! He is about to leave with his masters daily region reports. Give him what request you have for our lord the count.” “Many thanks.” Sir Fys'er runs to the scribe. “Scribe? I have a request for your lordship, can you cary it for me to him?” “Sure sir, but make haste, I have to get these reports to his lordship before dark.” Robard hands the Scribe the request.

Afther having read to omens, sir Fys'er is in a hury to get to a nearby citty and find out more about the south. Robard tells him to head to Westmoor. It used to be a part of Perdan. There should be in the archives some documents remaining from its days as a part in the realm of Perdan. Sir Fys'er sets of for Westmoor right away.

Spending the day going trough the book stores, and printers offices, Robard and sir Fys'er find nothing on ancient Westmoorian history. The people just dont like those old wounds opend back up. With its impressive tree story high walls and huge towers, it belongs to the realm of Fontan, where freedom of oppinion is sacred. But in Westmoor people are so sensetive about it, that sir Fys'er thaught it wise not to ask more about Perdan in a citty wich is sensetive about all of this, understandably due to the frontline being only miles outside of their citty gates. Sir Fys'er received one letter and a pare of orders. A letter had arrived from count Jean-Luc from Bruck. A good man who favors Sirionite travelers, and often invites them to stay over at his keep as his guests. An impressive castle. Count Jean-Luc wrote him to say that he had the letter passed on to sir Còir, sir Fys'ers brother residing in Old Rancagua. It gladens his heart. But what made him even more glad, are his orders. His orders told him to take his unit into the border lands. He knew that there his first battle would be waged. But he hoped he could establish contact with some of Perdans more tolerant nobles.

As Orderd he contineus his journey to Bescanon from Troyes. Under command of the Fontanese army. Afther having had breakfast in Troyes. A region clearly marked by the long war that waged here. Many of the villages where now souly populated by old folk. The young had all died during the long war.

Reaching Bescanon region, sir Fys'er is witness to the sight of two huge armies camped out on striking distance of eachother. There is a village nearby. The castle is over on the other side of the field. Sir Fys'er has his men build up defences around their campsite. He has guards posted and goes to sleep. Expecting an early rise for battle the next morning.

That night patroles went trough the camp frequently, as the nearby village remained hostile and angry afther days of looting. The villagers constructed palisades by dawn. The army was called on before the peasnats could get awake and organised for battle. They where totaly taken by surprise. But still managed to get their pitchforks and makeshift armor and weapons for battle. Even in fairness the peasants had all right to be upset. Still the battle went quite horrible for sir Fys'er. He lost one of his soldiers at the palisades. His men cried out for justice. Poetic justice in sir Fys'ers eyes. Still afther the battle he consented in his solders wish to hunt the killers down. Knowing full well that blood brings only fourth only more blood. He goes to his camp and spends the night there with Robard, playing cards and some chess. Then they went of to bed early. But slept close togheter, with their swords by their sides.

This morning he awoke, as one of his men fell ill due to a shortage of food. Serious hunger strikes all his men. With the peasant revolt, his men are going into a depression, and with all the looting, and the revolting peasants around, hardly any food reaches them. A serious situation getting out of hand.

Battles today where waged against baricades in the streets and on the roads. It was a slaughter. Sir Fys'er gave his men a rest. But he knows little can lift their spirrits. This was pure horror of war. How was he ever going to be able to talk to people about his search. Getting answers.

He had a good hunch that all the evidence would keep pointing out to Perdan. His brother and sister would find stuff on their parrents, but it would all lead to one place in the end. Predan! Its so obvious to him.

He went to bed that night thinking about these things. His mother would be in a emotional state. Their new lifestyle not being fully adapted to by them. They would soon end in conflict over at the first realm they ended in. Then she would find her banned for some reason, she would end in an other realm. Same adjustment problems. But it would keep haunting them. Untill they finally adapt to their situation, and blend in or vanish in sociaty. They could not search for an old lady, they had to search for Boght. Their father was not going to stop searching for them eighter. But would never leave the location of their mother. The black birds would guard her. But Boght would try to save them from the curse. Perdan would be the only place they could had ended up in.

It is the east islands that are closesth to the mainland. That means the the land from where they came are in fact so close to far east and east island that their mother must have drifted on the same current, and ended on the same land as they did. If she had been there, they would had known by now. No its south of east island they had to search. As their sister was the first to sight land. She would be in their mothers first realm. From where she would most probably have been deported. This would had been East island. She being pennyless, they would not have offerd her a choice but have gone with the cheapest deportation. Then she would be in East Island. Probably stranding north, and ending in conflict all over, but running south this time to escape persecution, she would be hiding in the old south. Fearing the north. Or at least that is his hypothesis in this case. He fell asleep. All that poundering finally did get him to sleep that night. Even when it was with his sword by his side, in a most uncomfortable field tent.

By morning, the peasantry was at it all over again. This time they had them fighting out in the fields. Weird, simply because you could knock them over so easy. Sir Fys'ers soldiers where realy unhappy with this kind of battles. They spoke ill of the command structure in the army of the alliance.

But when the sun came to set, sir Fys'ers men became realy upset. “Mylord, jack command has called the army to rally again! Those brave souls here are at it again.” But Sir Fys'er hardly listends. Hushing his soldier. Then he shouts. “Good God! That is IT!” The soldier looks a bit shooked up. Sir Fys'er sees his soldiers look on his face. “Dont you get it? All this time these peasants have been taking our attention away from what is realy going on here! Look at the castle? They have been rather silent over there havent they!” His soldiers here him, frightend as they are about what he is trieng to say here. Just as he tried to say it, a lieutenant of the general arrived calling them to rally at the field outside the castle for battle. The army of perdan had arrived. “See I was right to suspect that something fishy was going on here. All this time these brave peasants have been fighting us in massive numbers. Never expecting a victory, but real voluntarly taking this brave innitiative. Its brilliant! Their plan was simple. They would distract our army and our commanders. We used all we had to brake trough their palisades. But they did not repair them. They just filled the gaps with baricades of turned over wagons and stones. Each time we got into the village and battled them there. Then we moved back from the walls and lured the peasants into facing us in the field. We won battles there to. But every time they where just diverting our attention away, from the huge army that was massing on the other side of the castle. They where preparing a counter stirke, while the peasantry gave their realm a brave and noble suport. It is brilliant.

Alright men, gather as orderd for battles, same line settings as before!”

Worried, but fulfilled of a sense of duty, he marched into battle. Totally uncomfortable with the prospects of this battle. But it is a soldier and a knights duty to march into battle even the one's theyknow they are going to lose, or die in. For king and country you could say. Duty, is a better reason for battle then passion. In realms their wars - from a knight or soldiers duty, patriotism gets born, from their passion, greed and cruelty is born.

Sir Fys'er realised how good that tactic of the peasants worked, and implemented this tactic all over again. While all the rest of the army took up their positions. Only few stayed over at the campsite. Sir Fys'er remained with his men behind their camp fortifications. Up front he would hear men scream, and swords clashing. Cavalry horses where heard all the way to the rear. “A prelude to a comming attraction.” With all their sarcasm Sir Fys'er did not think it to be wise to move them foreward. Even with his common sense telling him that as one they stould stronger in the army. But knowing his mens state of ming, they would rather run then fight. So he kept them still behind their defences even with the cavalry comming. “Set up Lances!” Sir Fys'er prepared himself for the cavalry their attack. It looked like a Titlewave of men and horses comming their way. Scary! But suddenly a change in their fortune. The cavalry vanished behind their infantry. And at last Sir Fys'er saw a glimp of courage in his men. So he orderd them to advance on the enemy and line up with the rest of the troops. A good thing to as the enemy overruns the two units infornt of his. He backs them up, striking eighty enemy soldiers down. But to no avail, in no time they get overun to. Thirteen of his men died, and two of his men got wounded.

The soldier with the wise cracks run up to him. “Sir, you got to fall back sir!” “Alright Pick up the wounded and fall back! Head for the forrest!” They pick up their wounded and run as fast as they can.

Robard his scribe is glad to see him get out of theis battle unharmed. “This was such a waste of men and material sir!” Robard gave him the facts cold and unsensured. “Robard I lost thirteen good men of me who where with me since that day I have set sail from the mainland in search for Boght my father. Will you risk taking a request to the nobles of Perdan?” Robard thinks long before he answers. By eventualy walks up to Sir Fys'er with his answer while Sir Fys'er was tending to his mens wounds. “Sir, I know what you risked comming, here, lot of your men died today, comming here to serve in the search for your father, and what happend to your mother. Yes I will help you! Give me the request I am to cary to them and I shall deliver it to them?” Sir Fys'er nods, and hands him the blood coverd request. Sir Robard sets off for the nemey camps, holding a banner of truce.

“Lords of Perdan. This request sounds strange. But I wish to request of you just a moment of your attention for my perticular perdicament.

Im Sir Fys'er son of Boght. My father and mother where bewitched by my fathers evil mother in law. She turned my father and the bailifs guards into black birds. Nineteen black birds. My mother she had turned into an old lady, so no one could recorgnise her. Moms evil mother was hoping no one would notice her daughter as she tried to abduct her from the citty. Mom fled to land and got shipwrecked on the far east island. But in a turn of events, she got deported to east continent. Where she lived in Old Ranc for a while. But I know she fled the north. As she undoubtably, wouldnt be able to escape the curse placed on her, and consiquentlaly she I am sure off fled south. To escape pursecution. She must have ended in Perdan. I beleive, she might be found here in the south. I would not expect I reply, but if you would reply, you can reply directly to me. I have no other choice then to withdraw to Sirion citty and recruite all over again.”