The day dawned cold. Ithaquan Solis is nearly as warm as Khandavan
Letum. While the settlers of Ithaqua went about their day's work,
Fenrir Lyesmith, chieftain of the village, was watching his forest and
the people of it. It had been thirty years since the ragged band of
Khandavans came to Ithaqua, with their southern ways, their magick,
and their warmth.
When they first arrived, those young and well fed Wrathful and their
allies from the south, Fenrir thought none of them would last a day in
the pines. And the others of the village said much the same. Fenrir
recalled the day well, thinking that for all their well wishing, the
southerners would at least be providing a meal to the village soon.
But thirty years later, Fenrir saw that they'd been wrong. Those well
fed southerners had made a home here, forsaken their magick, learned
the way of the forest, and had fought for it, spoken for it, hated and
loved and died within it. They were lean, and hardened, weathered by
the Ithaquan snow and tempered by hunger. Their teeth were sharp.
The Black Pines had welcomed them, and Fenrir was tired. It was time
he retired, he thought. Perhaps fish a little in the Aori Bay. He
called the Ithaquan settlers to his office in the pines, and told
them.
He was stepping down, he said. Long and long enough had he led the
village, as best he could. It was time for these cubs to stand up and
lead the village of their own. The Wendigo, spirit of the Ithaqua,
had given the skills of the Warden to the new Ithaquans, and the
secrets of the Idras, no less a tradition of Ithaqua, were also
revealed to them. Fenrir told the Ithaquan people it was time, and he
named Harker his successor, adding the caveat "for now."
All those assembled were stunned. The Hierophants of the clan had
gathered, Ren, Kabal, Alesei, and Harker. Bard and Hunter, Olivet and
Jazyra, Warden and Idras, all stood witness to this announcement.
Ithaquans new and old, from Arden and Drokthar to Sargon and Sargon's
forging hammer, looked nonplussed as Fenrir barked out a laugh, and
named Harker Wildgraf of Ithaqua Village, and the village's
leadership and governance passed from the native born people of
Ithaqua, to those who had fought so hard to make it their own.
Penned by my hand on the 17th of Tenebrae, in the year 452 AD.
