“Fear is good Lanten, it keeps you alive”
In the semi darkness that surrounded him, the voice resounded with an eeriness that cut through his memmories leaving sharp edged cuts behind from which it bled into his mind.
“Live Long Lanten, and let the fear suckle in your heart”
Handon gave out a dry choke an shook himself as he jerked awake from his sleep, disturbing though , it was the only thing that gave his body the rest it needed.
The clomping of horses and shouts of soldiers outside the coach was unnerving enough to keep a man awake. His shoulders felt stiff and the old age he had embraced now made him feel odly stupid.
” Who was he trying to fool with all the charade “, mused Handon, thoughts running wild in his mind. His eyes swept along the small coach which was given to him and his granddaughter by the priests of the oracle until it stopped on his granddaugher nestled to his side in a kip, sound asleep.
A smile spread across his face, as he swept away the hair from her face, he was thankful to the oracle but at the same time hesitant to the approach the oracle had taken just like the priests of watch had been. Neverthless they had proceeded to heed it and had given them space in the coach.
The wagon’s red walls were decorated with the golden insigna of the order of watchers, the all seing eye. The plush seats of the wagon was probably meant for one of the priests of order now probably bundled with his comrades in another coach behind them.
Handon looked at his fellow travellers who had been selected by the oracle to be with them, the guy who sat before him was huge and wore a dark overall, fur coat made form bear skin, leather pants and boots all deeper shades of black, his companion was also similarly dressed who sat by Handon’s side , On the farther corner of the coach sat another man, who screamed warrior from the cuts and bruises that filled his face and hands, He wore a simple tunic