[Alneyan]

The Kingdom of the Vale, Man: Early Spring

"As the zephyr comes, so does it leave, unexpected and uncaring."

A flicker of light, and the hussle of wings. It was all that hinted at the presence of Ilneoa within the camp, but the impression it made on the soldiers were strong enough. Thus did she inspected the army quickly gathered among commoners and green warriors; her army nonetheless, protecting her life and her lands. Precious few of her men had ever taken the life of a foe, but this would come, as surely as summer wanes when the circle of the year turns around.

The Lady of Avalon had rallied her forces, these children of springtime, as she was asked to by the voices of the wind. "Within the greater cycle, we are nearing the other end of the pendulum, where fates will be mingled and all previous orders will collapse," they claimed. "Against these tides of turmoil, you are to marshall your forces and establish a sanctuary of stability, wherein you will kept the ways of the Vale." And so she obeyed, and could not deny the truth contained in these words. The circles had been broken, and equilibrium was lost. Already the waves of change were coming near, carrying the power to reshape the world.

Alas, much would be lost within this surge of chaos. Another Dark Age could fall on the land, heralding the end of the days of Avalon. The isle was weakening moon after moon, and the numbers of its inhabitants dwindled cycle after cycle. Truly Ilneoa was not from the isle herself, but she came to love its people and eventually remained there, a guide for Avalon, a warden against future.

Few lords gathered to hear her pleas, and many of the shires formerly under the rulership of the Vale seized their independence and threw aside both the old ways and their bonds with Avalon. This thought brought much concern to Ilneoa; a diminished Avalon, divided into several smaller islands, could not survive the tide, but why would these earls and other peers of the realm secede from the cradle whence they come from? The army gathered under her windows would face the unfortunate tudy of bringing anew the might of the Vale, for division offered no hopes of survival. Already bowmen were practicing their craft, in expectation of the battles that woud follow. One of their arrows shot down a crimson leave from a tree, an omen of the tomorrows to come.