Prologue

The rain lashed against the roof of the small house, in the village near the south of the land. The man who owned the house was a farmer by trade; most of the residents of the tiny hamlet were. The land was clean and fertile so between the fifteen or so residents in the area they tended the land providing crops, livestock and grain. It was a hard life, but one the farmer was accustomed to. His nearest neighbour was about five leagues away, his neighbour on the other side was about seven leagues. Between them all they owned all the fields.
It was a hard life, although the last seasons weather had meant a bumper crop. It was fairly lonely too, the farmer and his wife had no children, and from the way things were going tonight, he doubted he ever would. He saw his two neighbours every few days in passing, and once every two weeks he ventured into Tallenburg or Springbush to sell what produce he could to the markets there.
The farmer’s wife gave another small cry of pain which knocked him from his thoughts. He mopped her brow and hoped help would arrive soon. Being this far out of reach of most of the kingdom they had system for calling for help. A large beacon in one of the fields had been lit his neighbours had seen it and lit theirs. That had alerted Springbush that there was trouble. Brigadier Kalder had sent her sister to check up, and she had left to bring the help required.

A healer arrived very shortly, followed a short time later by two clerics from Father Gaimen's chapel. The clerics were able to ease his wife's suffering for a while, then after a brief – and rather excited – discussion, one left with rapid haste. Several hours passed until there was a commotion outside the small house. The royal coach had arrived.
The farmer blanched slightly. What would the King be doing here? And how did he get here so quickly? The cleric moved to his side.
“Your wife is delirious with prophecy. Erathis is trying to speak through her.” The cleric lowered her eyes. “We felt it best King Turil himself was here to hear it.”
The farmer stammered slightly as the door was opened by the Archduke, and the King entered along with the elderly Sage Vernick and Vimo Fremell. Outside the farmer could see several Royal Guards standing alert.
Vernick moved to the farmer’s wife bedside while the King approached the farmer.

“Your Highness” the farmer began to splutter. “Such an unexpected, yet welcome, visit. I apologise for the untidy nature of...”
Turil silenced him with a small wave of his hand and a warm smile.
“Your wife's health is a far more pressing matter than a few plates lying around.” he said softly. He was a tall man, about six foot four tall with broad shoulders. And a shock of white hair. Despite his regal title he was quite approachable and enjoyed speaking with his people; he refused to call them subjects.
The farmer glanced to the Archduke who was standing stiffly near the door. Archduke Artimus Morningstar ran a hand through his short blonde hair, his piercing blue eyes watching everything inside. Vimo stood near him as if a servant. The farmer knew he wasn't, Vimo was well known to be a scholar.
Sage Vernick moped the brow of the farmer’s wife, then called for Vimo. The thin man with a hook nose waked quickly, his hands clasped behind his back. Vernick whispered to him and the scholar left the house quickly. Vernick stood up and moved to the farmer.
“You did the right thing in calling for us” He said softly. His large beard ruffled as he spoke, and then he took the farmers hand. “I shall do for her what I can, but I should warn you to prepare for the worst.”
The farmer felt a tear well up in the corner of his eye. Yet somehow, he had known this was a possibility.
The door swung open and Vimo returned with several plants in his hands. Vernick let go of the hand and took the plants from Vimo, producing a small mortar and pestle from somewhere in his clothing. The pair moved to the kitchen counter and began pulling leaves and grinding. The farmer walked slowly to his wife's bedside where the King was crouching, speaking quiet words of comfort to her.

Suddenly her eyes opened, and she stared at the Farmer.
“The green eyes.” She said in a voice that was not fully her own. He was too absorbed in watching her to notice the others move in around the bed.
“The script-stone will be uncovered. The gateway will open and the Green eyed one will come” she continued. “The green eyed one with pointed ears will come, and the Leader will be split apart.” She repeated this twice more before falling silent and closing her eyes. He took her other hand and squeezed it gently. Her hands were cold, and he felt a shiver go down his back. Sage Vernick pulled her head back and poured some liquid into her mouth, then looked at the farmer.
“She is become with Rapture” he said, “I have given her a potion that should calm her nerves, but her heart is struggling.” His eyes looked deeply into the Farmers own. “I am sorry.”
The farmer felt his legs collapse and fell to the floor. The sage helped him up into a chair with the Archduke's help.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed, how long he'd been unconscious for, but when he awoke the King was still here. They had helped themselves to a cup of tea, Morningstar stood near the kitchen counter with Vimo, the King and Vernick still with his wife. The Archduke turned towards him as the farmer awoke and started to move out of the chair and was at his side before he could say anything. He placed his hand on the farmers shoulder.
“It's alright” he said in a warm voice. “Your wife seems to be making a full recovery.”
“She..? She is?” He stammered.
The Duke flashed him a smile that gave him comfort. “It seems Sage Vernick has helped her.”
Vernick looked up from the bedside. “I can't take the credit” he said, his voice now louder than before, with a playful edge to it. “Had it not been for Mr. Fremell's knowledge of the local fauna, we never would have been able to create the potion!”
“Potion?” The farmer asked, then realised. “Thank you” he said simply. It didn't seem enough. “Do I owe you anything for the treatment?”
Vernick stood and walked over. “Your thanks is all I need.” he said with a warm smile. “Now if you'll all excuse me,” he turned slightly as he spoke, addressing everyone in the room. “I should be on my way.”
The Archduke moved to the door. “Are you not coming back with us?”
“No, I should return to Corellon. My business in Winterhaven is done for the time being.”
“But it's dark, and you have no horse.”
The wise old man turned to Morningstar, putting his hand on his shoulder. “I shall be fine. I have much to do at home.” He turned back to the farmer. “It seems the Gods themselves had plans for me to go to Winterhaven today. Otherwise I would not have been there when the message arrived.” He turned finally to the King and bowed. “Your highness.” then turned and left the small house.

The farmer had watched all this is surprise and amazement. “He's going to walk? To Corellon?”
Vimo shook his head slightly. “If there is one thing I've learned, it's never underestimate the powers of a wizard.
The King had walked back to the farmers side.
“It seems our work here is done. I apologise for taking some of your food and drink.” The king paused a moment, then smiled, turning for the door. The Archduke and Vimo followed him outside. The Farmer went back to his wife's side. She lay asleep, her breathing normal and not raced like before. He lay down beside her and fell asleep once more.