The Tales of Miriela: Shadowborn

Chapter 38: Thomas Siln

The air was cold and the sky was dark as Thomas Siln road South from Ferenor towards the Grounds. Production had been increased, but still Ferenor could not produce enough to readily arm the cities of The Realm. Kline refused to see things for how they truly were. The Grounds were a means for recourses, but iron and steel could never unite like common belief. The Grounds could never produce enough weaponry to give The Realm a cause to fight for one another. But Odwin, the Shadowborn, he could unite kings like Kline could never dream. A hope in Odwin could bring Miriela together like never before. But it seemed that Kline could not understand, or perhaps he was simply unwilling to do so.

What the Grounds did produce, rarely reached a city without meeting highwaymen or bandits on the way. Yet, the High Council continued to demand that more supplies be sent. They demanded that Highland, Kessex, and Cranst be supplied, and ready to march on Oaksgaurd, should Kline Wullmont demand it.

Shipments to Oaksguard had been halted, but Thomas knew that Oaksguard had all it needed. They had been taking from his caravans for years, and amassed enough steel to arm a great force.

Thomas wondered if the East should be abandoned altogether, if Cranst and Oaksguard should be left to fight on their own. The West of Miriela, West of the Valendale, maybe it could truly be united. The promise of the Shadowborn had provided such great potential. But for all Odwin's potential to unite Miriela, he had just as much potential to separate it.

Any king or queen who knew the Shadowborn fought for them, would certainly aim to expand their lands. And Thomas knew that with conquest came bloodshed, and often irreversible division. A division which would leave Miriela vulnerable, if the Esterns truly were to return, as Kline had claimed.

With his horse ready, Thomas set out towards the Grounds, to inform the Overseers of yet another increase in quota. The Overseers were then free to adjust the camp's conditions however they sought fit, more working hours, fewer breaks; whatever must be done to meet the new needed export.

The mornings were becoming cooler. Lord Siln could see his breath, as it clouded in the air before his nose. His horse trotted towards the Grounds, snarling and swaying its head. Thomas was a stern man. He showed no emotion, no empathy. The Grounds were certainly no exception.

He understood the results of his actions and he thought of them often. He knew that the demand of high export meant more casualties, more dead men, falling in their labor. But it was a necessity. Great cities required gold and gold required sacrifice. He reminded himself of it daily.

As he rode, Lord Siln caught himself daydreaming again over his confliction. 'Better to die serving your city, than fall to a foreign enemy.' Thomas thought to himself. He shook his head subtly, escaping from the torment of his own mind. Although Thomas didn't feel the export was sufficient, he knew that swords were needed to fight. And it seemed that a fight for all of Miriela was soon to come once again.

He rode on and tried to leave his emotion and worry somewhere on the side of the road. He was soon to visit Overseers in all three of the Grounds' divisions, armor and weaponry, the farmlands, and raw goods.

Thomas reached the farmlands, and rode in to meet the Overseer, who stood outside of his quarters. Each Overseer had a place of their own to stay, that overlooked the Grounds where the labor was done.

"Overseer Leylind," Lord Siln said, as he dismounted from his horse. Geoff Leyvlind was watching over the farmlands, monitoring the work in the fields. Even at this early hour, the men and boys of the Grounds worked hard producing crops. The Overseers all knew what Lord Siln's presence meant. He only traveled to meet in person with them for one reason.

"Lord Siln," Overseer Leyvlind said. He stepped back his right foot and bowed before Thomas. The look on his face, however, suggested that his true feelings for Lord Siln were something very different. "To what might I owe your presence? Does the King send for me?" Overseer Leyvlind sarcastically uttered.