Free Republic

Alone in a crowd of rugged men, nursing his drink in the far corner of the old post town's only tavern: Kaim. A single man strides in through the tavern door. Massively built, he wears the garb of a warrior. His soiled uniform bespeaks a long journey. Fatigue marks his face, but his eyes wear a penetrating gleam—the look of a fighting man on active duty. The tavern's din hushes instantly. Every drunken eye in the place fastens on the soldier with awe and gratitude. The long war with the neighboring country has ended at last, and the men who...

Strong winds have always blown across this vast grassy plain. Perhaps the area's topography has something to do with it, but the direction of the wind remains constant, irrespective of the time or season: From east to west, from the horizon where the sun rises to the horizon where the sun sets. Swept by the unceasing winds, the misshapen trunks and branches of shrubs all incline to the west. Tall grasses do not grow here, and the grasses that do grow all lie flat on the ground, bending westward. Caravans and herding folk traverse the single road that crosses the...