southwest corner of the Great Tower that commanded a wide, breathtaking view. Far below, the city went about its business which, from their vantage, seemed a remote affair. For her part, Lily was surprised to see that, far from straight, as it had appeared to her as they had made their way east along its banks, the wide River Grey meandered across the Wide Plain before turning south in its course at Lund, where it meandered beyond the range of her vision, all the way south to the sea beyond the dwarf kingdom of Darkhun. Colourful sailed watercraft and barges dotted the South Grey, and despite the armaments most of them bore, it was a gay, lazy, pleasureful sight.
"Do you ever regret your having become a swordmain?" Lily asked. Dorain smiled thoughtfully and shook her head. The breeze caught her long, blonde hair for a moment, and covered her face. Laughing, Lily said, "Here! Let me braid it for you." She arose from her place and stood behind Dorain. After a time, as she worked, she ventured carefully, "You seem sad sometimes. Yet you never tell me why."
"Ah, Lily," Dorain replied quietly with a sigh, "I am sad, as who would not be in these troubled times? I am sad for the Four Kingdoms, for their days are coming to an end. Much is going to be lost. The magic of the dwarves of Darkhun and the elves of Normandon is fading from the earth, and will soon be lost forever. Why, I do not know. Astargoth, for its part, withers from within from some inner moral rot. And Brand, the last great kingdom of Man . . . Brand stands alone, directly in the enemy's path, with Lund as its gate. And Lund will surely fall, at a terrible cost.