It was a bit of a surprise when they reached the first of the forest towns. A messenger had been sent ahead as a polite warning and by the time the ‘wall’ came into view, there were guides ready and waiting to lead them through it.

  The massive manicured hedge of thorns some 30 feet high and he wasn’t entirely sure how thick was a hell of a barrier. Gnarly thorns too, each most of 6 inches long and sharp enough to pierce demon leather. Ethan checked. Not so much the greater demon leather, but even there, it had a way of catching on any and everything. Even metal. No, pushing your way through would be a painful exercise in futility.

  Especially with the well-equipped archers watching them at every turn.

  “Rangers, Milord. Tier 1 bowmen wit a bit o’ stealth.” Leo offered softly.

  Ethan nodded. He’d heard of the class. It wasn’t a favorite for a stand-up fight. At least not in the Emperor’s legions. It was half scout and its ranged damage suffered from it. A poor trade-off against the demons. But in this trackless expanse? He’d take 10!

  Leo could use more scouts.

  There was no gate, just a very twisty path with some very suspicious ground to the sides. He didn’t need Leo’s whispering to see traps, ditches and hidden hunting stands at nearly every turn.

  It took most of 10 minutes to get through them, but in doing so a completely different world seemed to open up. Twelve old-growth monster trees overlooked a large green well dotted with moving herds of pigs, cows and even goats.

  It was warmly lit by dozens of fire pits, mixed in with small market stalls and what looked like dances on the green but no homes that he could see.

  Not at first glance at least. Then Ermina smirking, nudged him. Pointing to the trees. Or rather the massive towers that circled them, using the tree as their back wall and colored such that the two blended together except for where light gleamed through windows from within.

  He glanced up and saw a different kind of highway. Intertwined rope bridges crisscrossed the space above in some kind of demented web for those with no fear of heights!

  Or, his mind supplied past the child gibbering in the corner with terror, a host of archers looking down on any fool who tried to invade.

  He looked away, and got a small treat. There was actually a bit of sky visible. A thin line to be sure and only because the Silberstrom river was no small creak, but still the sky. And something in him relaxed a bit at the sight.

  Beside that river and given pride of place before them was what had to be the castle. It was by far the tallest of the surrounding towers, and considerably more decked out with archery platforms and the covered shapes of war engines.

  Some manner of magic had grown and shaped massive vines in a swirl around the outside of this tower. Creating a living wall that was both beautiful and allowed a far taller structure than the stone baileys of the plains.

  Height was distance. Those engines and archers could command this entire green, not to mention overlooking the much narrower Silberstrom entirely.

  Despite that threat, it was a strangely homey place. The fires gave off plentiful light and warmth in the otherwise dark and dreary forest depths and cheerful music rang out with abandon at nearly every turn. Pipes in abundance but with the lyre’s he was familiar with replaced by a round-backed stringed instrument that was quite pleasant in its own right.

  And through it all, there was a general atmosphere of desperate joy.

  A feeling that if you didn’t enjoy life now, you might never have the opportunity.

  The air was perfumed with the smells of meat, wild onions, garlic and savory greens. Fern greens, Ethan figured. Just as well he’d tried them before, because while they were tasty, they didn’t sound it.

  They traveled inward to a caravanserai sectioned off by a man-tall hedges that only the locals could refer to as ‘small.’ Thankfully without the thorns.

  Before the camp was even assembled, locals appeared festooned with wine skins they could barely carry. Offered with smiles, good will and at very reasonable prices to a group that would not have turned down swill at expensive prices. It was not a hard sale. Good wine too, if of a sourer sort then he was used to.

  A quiet question to the side was all it took for Ermina to fill him in.

  “Forest greens, My Lord. You wouldn’t think it, but despite the lack of light a great deal grows here. They grow wrapped around the great trees and require very little light. Tart little things, but enjoyably refreshing on a hot day.” Without asking, he was quickly offered a bunch by one of the enthusiastic merchants plying their camp. They were dark green in color and smaller than he’d expected. Not to mention tart enough to pucker his mouth. And despite that, he found himself reaching for more.

  Ermina touched his arm mid reach, gesturing with her chin towards the opening in the hedge where a page in a tabard crossed with a boar spear and oak tree waited with an invitation to the Lord’s Hall.

  “We accept gladly, but do give us an hour to set up and clean off the dust of the road.” Ermina offered, patting Ethans arm at an excited pace. For her at least. The page bowed respectfully and departed with their answer while Ermina darted towards their tent. Offering over her shoulder, “The Forest nobles are famous for their hospitality, you are in for a treat My Lord!”

  He shrugged and followed after. Treat or no, he still needed to clean up.

  Still, it was barely a half hour later when they left the camp. Ermina and Miro were freshly washed and in elegant dresses he hadn’t seen on them before. While Ethan, James and Andrew had had to settle for a quick polish and Blake’s scent banishing ritual.

  Together, 2 pairs arm in arm while Andrew walked awardly behind, they made their way up the green. Enjoying the walk even as they were forced to thread their way through and around everything from dances to a small horse race. From a wildly noisy open market to a harpist playing to a field of reclined lovebirds.

  It was a busy place the green.

  Still, it wasn’t a long walk and soon enough they stepped through a natural twist in the outer root wall that Ethan might not have spotted without direction. Through a short wooded tunnel and to a pair of iron-bound double doors inset into the very tunnel.

  Open doors, and into a fire lit wooden hall behind.

  Braziers burned merrily. Spaced equally across the pillar-studded hall, shedding their flickering light on beautifully elaborate carvings that seemed to cover every exposed piece of wood. Each pillar was something different. A stack of local animals, one atop each other here. A dragon, coiling its way up to swallow a peach over there. An oak tree, its splitting branches becoming the arched rafters that supported the ceiling. supports for the ceiling.

  It was overwhelmingly busy. Ethan half felt his eyes would bleed. Each individual piece was something precious. A work of art he’d be honored to own and display. But all together it was a cacophony that abused his senses.

  He blinked several times while Ermina snickered softly under her breath beside him, having been watching his face closely as they stepped inside. He glared once, though without any real weight behind it. “You might have warned me.” He breathed out.

  “And miss your expression? Never! Besides, it’s a local tradition. As my father did it to me, I now pass it to you.” He glanced around and saw no few faces smiling in a knowing way. Laughing, but without the harsh edge that might have made it mocking.

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  “Oh? Did he then? And what face did you make?” But then it was too late for her to respond.

  The Lord and Lady of the hall were before them in wooden thrones that extended well above their heads, where their coat of arms was carved in exacting detail and further inlaid with precious multi colored exotic woods.

  The baron stood easily. “Be welcome in my Home and Fief, Baronet Ethan of Alfwin Pass and dear sa-Baronetess Ermina formerly of Rivervald and now of Alfwin Pass. Be welcome indeed. Baronetess congratulations on your nuptials. I must say I haven’t seen you in a decade! Not since you were a fresh young thing attending my wedding with your father!”

  “I remember it vividly Lord Dietrich of Eichenhall. The oak trees in full flower is a sight I suspect I shall never forget.”

  He laughed delightedly before hurrying on. “And of course, My dear Baronet, congratulations on your ennoblement. I’m afraid the news we’ve had is rather spotty on the subject, but an imperial herald came through a month or so back so at least I do know your, and those who rose with you, names. Be known to my wife, na-Baroness Gisela formerly of Tannenfeld.”

  Ethan had to stiffen his back a bit, unused to the word soup that seemed to pour from the man's mouth at the drop of a hat. He spoke quickly, cheerfully, with little of the slow, dignified grandeur affected by the Riverlanders.

  But after taking a moment to get used to it, he couldn’t say he minded. It was… honest. Perhaps like the carvings, it was an acquired taste. But it was warm. It was welcoming and filled with good cheer.

  “My thanks, Baron, na-Baroness for your more than satisfactory welcome. Your town and home were quite the surprise to me and mine, I must say. But now, quite a welcome surprise. In particular, I thank you for allowing my entire band within your town. It is not an offer I have received anywhere else.”

  He waved it off. “A difference of style, Lord Ethan. Merely so. You might even call it a difference of architecture. We of the great forest have a great deal of space inside our towns. Have to if we want to protect our herd beasts while grazing. They’d disappear to the last lamb and piglet in under a month if you tried to herd them out in the wilds. Not unless you had a soldier for every beast could you manage it!”

  Ethan nodded. That and even inside the outer hedge, they remained well covered by the defenses on the various tree towers. But that would be impolite to mention. From either of them.

  “But where was I?” The baron laughed gleefully. “Come, sit! Sit and eat. I’ll admit to ulterior intentions. It is good to see new faces, and I am a great fan of company, but we are quite starved for news! After you’ve had a bite, and more than a few drinks of course, you must tell us of the wars ending.”

  “That I am pleased to offer Baron Dietrich. Tis an easy enough task and small recompense for such hospitality.”

  Seats were quickly provided to the baron’s right and a high table was carried over to be placed in front of them, while several more were moved from the walls forward to form a loose upside-down U with the high table at the top. Tablecloths were thrown and food soon trooped in. Platters in great numbers. Of suckling pig stuffed with grape and apricot that was carried between two men, of cheese filled puls spotted with a dark green herb that gave it a surprisingly sour kick, large pots served out bowls of a thick stew that contained the ubiquitous fiddleheads, garlic, onions and the massive shelf mushrooms they harvested from the great trees.

  The stew in particular was quite good and the baron grinned quite widely when he said as much.

  “Fennar, Lord Ethan. It is something of a local staple. You will find it from the meanest cottage all the way up to the count's table. It will not be the same taste and style at all of those places, of course, but you can still recognize it. The Forest Provides!”

  He shouted that last, and was quickly echoed by the room, each raising a glass in support.

  The baron took a quick drink and continued. “It gives to us in abundance but it does not give to all equally. The mushroom and the meat are the key. The poorest will do with the small button caps and scraps. White mushrooms that grow nearly everywhere along the forest floor and whatever bits of pork, goat or mutton they can afford. While the count, and to your luck, my own table this day, there is Lions mane! It is harvested in big bearded chunks twice the height of a man from far up the sides of one of the great trees. Not terribly safe to do, and even worse, it only grows on dead or dying still-standing trees. Those are to much a fire danger to leave them long. Not to mention a windfall in hardwood. But we had a bit of luck – we were out closing a Minor Rift -”

  Just that quickly, the Baron was off on another story, accompanied by a small set of musicians that stepped inside the U and began to play haunting, lilting melodies. Ethan enjoyed the new experience, but found himself focusing more and more on the Baron’s tale. He’d have to deal with this sort of thing himself soon enough. A minor rift would take at least a century of equally tiered men to close it. Though his own recent experience showed how rough even that could be.

  “How often do you have to close such a rift, Baron Dietrich?” Ethan offered when the man paused to wet his throat.

  “Oh, at least once a year, Baron. At least. It’s not like the southerners. They’ve packed their cores in like apples in an urn, begging your pardon sa-Baronetess Ermina, and only in the empty spaces between do you see much in the way of rifts. But out here? We are spread far more widely. It lets us grow and send our second sons out as subsidiary nobles, if we can source a blasted core of course, but it might take another 10 generations to really fill things in. In the meantime a minute rift –” somewhere between tier 0 and tier 2 with a heavy weight to the lower end, Ethan reflected from his recent lessons with Baron Theodric, and taking a decade of similarly tiered troops to close “- a week along with a great deal of escaping rift monsters. Not to mention a small rift –“ Ethan flinched slightly. That was a full legion affair! And one that risked a much higher tier. The tier range increased by 1 at every step, and while the bottom remained the most common, it wasn’t guaranteed. “three or four times in a score of years.”

  “I’m surprised and impressed that you can handle such.” Ethan managed cautiously. He’d not seen so many troops coming in. Nor the money or production to support them.

  The baron waved a hand in denial. “Diplomacy, Lord Ethan. I’d not handle such alone, but a set of neighbors will bind themselves together with oaths and trade to deal with them. None of us alone could afford the casualties such would bring. But with five of us together, it is merely painful.” He shrugged. But Ethan’s eyes snapped to the man quickly at the gesture. That had not been the shrug of some fop noble. The shoulders under that tabard were massive, and moved with a restrained grace that spoke of true power. His body stat was at least at Guile's level. At the top of 2nd tier or perhaps even at the start of the 3rd.

  “Any higher than small and the Count is honor-bound to step in. Thankfully, the last of that size was near 150 years ago. And half the forest rose together to close it! A painful time that was. But six of ten returned from it.”

  Ethan nodded grimly. Such stories he well knew. “Still,” The baron shot back up to his usual cheer, “that is the way of the forest. And it’s not entirely one-sided. The loot that came from that rift is still sung about today. The sword of Caliburn is the defining treasure of the count’s blood line now.” Ethan nodded. Even he’d heard the songs. About a tier 5 enchanted greatsword, said to be able to cut through stone like butter and that shielded those who stood under it from fear.

  “Even the minute rifts bring in a steady, but valuable stream of exotic loot to fill our coffers.”

  “Do you send out knights to close them?”

  “If I hear about them first and especially if they are of high tier. But mostly no, the local adventuring guilds are quite good enough to handle the majority. And welcome to them. They sprout up like mushrooms.”

  Ethan nodded slowly. That was… new. Adventurers were always useful to a town. Mostly to take care of the occasional rift leakers that spread out far across the land. But he’d not heard of them actively closing rifts in the Riverlands. And as for the Demon lands… well, maybe Bandsman weren’t so far off.. He flinched at the very thought.

  The conversation continued for a time, with acrobats and tumblers making brief appearances, much to Ethan's delight. Entertainment in the camps was catch-as-catch-can. And in the Riverlands it was quite repressed. Soulful lyre performances and haunting soprano’s singing. Beautiful, but a bit stodgy after a time.

  This was anything but. It was raw, crude even at times, but bright colorful and above all, genuine! They were here to have fun, and didn’t care to let others know it.

  Still, in time the entertainment left, then re-entered quietly without their tools to hang back at the edges of the light. Even kitchen workers and servants were there, if your eyes were sharp enough to see.

  Ethan grinned. Alright. Time to pay the score.

  “Early this spring. The Emperor, may his light ever shine on us,” he paused to let those present repeat the benediction. “ordered a full and hopefully final assault on the Huge Demon rift. And so –“ He began again to describe the fight, the grandeur of seeing a dozen Legions marching forward to take their place in the rift distortion together. Of those initial moments of terror when the ‘coin’ flipped and demons were everywhere. Of extending the line and holding fast for a day, while the cavalry came through in the second wave. Of the slow grinding progress they’d made. Of moments of High Honor, of the deepest shame. Of politics and selflessness and of at last a Champion and a 50-foot-tall greater demon and a crushed core.

  They hung on his every word, and he wasn’t a slouch at the telling either. He’d led men for over a decade and given who knew how many speeches in that time. He was adept at it. And had had a first-hand view of the proceedings from start to finish. It was a good tale, a well-told tale. But that didn’t stop it from being a painful one. A quarter of the Empire’s strength died in those few days. Never to emerge from the portal.

  May Kiron’s scales tilt to honor. And may their memories remain. A maudlin thought, but a true one.

  The night ended with cheers and robust thanks for the tale. The Baron and his Wife even saw them off the next day with several local specialties as gifts and an invitation to stop in any time they wished.

  And this was the form and formula of the next few weeks. Oh, there were a few crab apples to leave a bitter taste among both people and nobles. Such was ever the case. But for all that, Ethan was growing to love this place.

  Well, partially. He still yearned for the open sky, and if he never saw a blasted Fern again, it would be to soon!