By night I crossed the Bjoulsae Bridge into Bangkorai. With such grim news coming from the region of late, I figure the fewer eyes seeing an agent of the Covenant entering Evermore the better. King Eamond Guimard is dead, killed by the Reachmen who, as I write this, march down upon the Kingdom in numbers not seen since the Black Drake’s invasion some 40 years ago.
And as I stood upon the mighty stone bridge, the storm raging o’er, the clocks struck midnight across Evermore. The storm lit up the city walls, the river, and the lands all about, all made bright but for a dark cloud rolling down the Wrothgarian mountains. A shadow so black that even the spears of the Aedra could not alight it. The Witchmen of the Reach are marching tonight.