Jan Radovanic was unaware of this missive, for he was stranded with the princely band on the desolate slopes of the Mountain. As he sat by the weakening flame of their camp, cleaning the carcass of a wolf, the boy thought of home. The troubles in the Ailmere were known to him, as well as the failure of small bands of Haeseni that set out into the frozen north. Their plight was much like his own. In this moment, he thought of his father, and the wisdom passed unto him.
"It is the duty of the lord to to pay his dues, to maintain his retinue, and to raise it at the command of his Koeng."
How easy it would be if the Haeseni traded their quills for blades. Yet there were no retainers in the realm. No bannermen of lesser lords, sworn to House and home. He thought of the stories of the bogatyr, of the grand ambitions of the heroic age. Where were these men now? Jan did not know. If they could not stand against skeletons and goblins, the realm would surely crumble against their fellow Man. The common boy simply shook his head, and set back to the task at hand.