He sat there on the cliff. On the outside he was silent, yet inside his head ideas were buzzing around like bees round a flower.
"A tower there......by that great tree we shall keep our steeds" He mumbled to himself. In the lush Landscape around him his mind painted him a small town. The Nature around him shared few similarities with that of his place of birth, he thoughts a the merciless wind played symphonies in the trees. Vilinkia, the village hadn't been very big, a few houses and his fathers manse. Highfield...he didn't have many clear memories of his family home. A large hall...a kind chef sticking pies to him as he played in the kitchens.
When he was nine it had all been destroyed, ripped from him. The large hall set to flames, the kind chef killed,brutally murdered. His father had brought him a long to a siege, he didn't remember their lieges name, nor the defenders, all he remembered was the fire... They had attacked in the night, like the fox attacking the sleeping hens they had been brutally slaughtered.
His father had been lucky enough to survive,barely... With the few of his surviving men he had taken refugee to the south, to a people who shared hate for their common enemy. The people of the Sultanate had been kind, they had been well taken care of, yet his father was never the same again. He had lost everything.
Returning from the memories of the past Jens stood up.
He had many a things to do, people to talk to, lands to be inspected. He had to take care of his people, but most importantly...He had a sultanate to serve.
Jens Ulvenrand inspecting the Waywindwoods of Haria.