    'Twas a sight to 
see, the sunlight 
falling lightly on the 
sandstone walls of 
Trinsic 'pon a 
morning in spring.
    Children ran along 
the parapets and 
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walkways, their 
laughter and running 
providing music to the 
daybreak, despite 
their oft-ragged 
clothing.
    The guards who 
maintained a vigilant 
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outlook from atop the 
towers would smile 
indulgently as 
children slammed 
into their armored 
legs and brushed 
past them.
    And I was one of 
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those young ones, 
letting my joy rise 
up to the skies.
    Little did we all 
know of the darker 
days that would lie 
ahead, for we were 
too young.
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    Had we but 
gained access to the 
quiet councils held in 
the Paladin tower as 
it faced the sea, 
councils lit by 
candlelight and  
worry, we would 
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have learned more of 
the fears of 
imminent attack from 
the forest, where 
foul creatures born 
of dank caves and 
darkness were 
marauding ever more 
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often into the lands 
around Trinsic's 
moat.
    But we were 
children! The 
parapets and the 
moat were places to 
play, not stout 
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defenses, and we 
gave no thought to the 
necessities that must 
have required their 
construction.
    We used to reach 
the sheltered 
orchards on the lee 
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side of the parapet 
walls, where the 
southern river cut 
through the city, by 
swimming across the 
water.
    The rich folk 
who lived in the 
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great manses there 
would shout from 
their windows and 
shake their fists, for 
we would run 
through their gardens 
and tear up the 
delicate foxgloves and 
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orfleurs with our 
unshod dirty feet.
    Then we would 
dive into the water 
and splash merrily 
to the fruit trees.
    The southern 
river lazily slid 
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under an ungated 
arch in the mighty 
wall, and we would 
lay on the grassy 
bank and watch it 
gurgle by the lily 
pads.
    That spring that 
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pleasant spot became 
the doorway through 
which our city of 
Trinsic let in the 
monstrous deformed 
humanoids that 
savaged us.
    I lay upon that 
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grassy bank and 
watched them wade 
in, their coarse hair 
wet and matted, algae 
and muck festooning 
their wild brows.
    They caught sight 
of a quicksilver girl 
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with bright blond 
hair and lively eyes.
Her name was Leyla, 
and that spring I had 
held fond dreams of 
holding her hand and 
sharing flavored ice 
while dangling our 
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feet off the small 
bridge by Smugglers 
Gate.
    And I said nothing 
when they caught 
her, and did not cry 
out when they 
dragged her off 
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through that breach 
in our wall, and did 
not warn the city 
when I saw the 
helmeted orc captains 
call the charge upon 
the mansions.
    Blame me not, for 
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I was but a child, and 
one who hid in the 
branches of the peach 
trees, all a-tremble 
whilst I watched the 
smoke rise from Sean 
the tailor's, and fire 
lash out at the roof of 
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witchy Eleanor's 
tavern.
    To this day I 
have had no word of 
Leyla, and to this 
day the smell of 
burning wood can 
conjure terrible 
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dreams. Yet with the 
eyes of adulthood, 'tis 
possible to examine 
the flaws in the 
defense of Trinsic on 
that fateful day, and 
the reasons why our 
walls are now 
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double-thick, and 
why our buildings 
are now built as 
fortresses within a 
somber fortified 
city.
    While I can look 
out from the top 
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of the new Paladin 
tower, and spy the 
mighty white sails 
across the barrier 
island, and can 
descry the small 
hollow south of the 
city where gypsies 
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are wont to camp, I 
can also envision the 
city as it might be 
burning, and I bless 
the bargain we made: 
space for safety, 
grace for sturdiness, 
and wood for stone.
#EOP
    Whilst I live, I 
shall not see Trinsic 
burn, and no more 
cries of little girls 
will haunt the sleep 
of our fair citizens.
  This is mine oath,
as I live and breathe.
#EOP
    - Japheth, 
Paladin Guildmaster 
of the City of 
Trinsic
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