It was the eve of the ninth day of Aequitas, in the year four hundred
and fifty two, when a sudden stillness overcame the forest of Khandava.

Long had the cries of battle fought with the clashes of metal to
dominate the evening breeze. For the first time in many a month, no cry
was to be heard. Cenedra drew a short breath and read the guild news
board for the second time that day.

"Still no reports, Golem," she sighed.

His mind set on protection, the golem walked to the edge of the grove
and peered into the green forest beyond.

"It's too quiet," he replied, tapping a large earthy finger against the
tree. "What happened to all the fighting?"

"You mean with Stavenn, Golem?" asked the arboreal. "Maybe they fixed
some sort of truce."

Nothing happened for a good few moments. Pleased at this notion, the
golem returned to the grove and sat. Eventually he moved again, saying,
"Truce is good." The arboreal nodded her agreement, and ran her fingers
across the grass. "That means we won, right?" he added.

Cenedra frowned. "Well, there's nothing in the news about any winning,"
she replied.

"We should KNOW if we won," postulated the thoughtful golem. "Otherwise
we probably didn't," he added with certainty.

A bird flew from one branch above to another. The arboreal patted the
golem on his back. "I agree, Golem," she affirmed with a smile.

They both agreed; the forest seemed just as it always had.

Penned by my hand on the 9th of Aequitas, in the year 452 AD.