Where were you when Cyre burned?

“The Day of Mourning”

He stared pointedly into his empty tankard

“That tale’s got to be worth another drink”

One of his audience signalled the bar keep for a fresh pint.

“20th of Olarune”

Felaz put down the empty glass and looked each of his eager spectators in the eye

“Where were you?”

He whispered before continuing

“I’d cleared the border and was heading for Shannow”

He smiled as he collected his new drink.

“Had a good haul of skins and furs and thought I’d try my luck selling them here in Breland” He smiled ruefully “My old Da said I was an idiot, said you Breland folk would more than likely rob me blind” He held up his hands to ward of the complaints

“Not my words, I got nothing but gratitude to you folk”

His hands went back to his drink “But you gotta remember that we was a proud people, Cyre was a proper country you could be proud to be from”

He smiled again, a little smug that the locals in this country tavern hadn’t noticed his jibe.

“I was climbing this steep trail through pretty gnarly woods, near the top the trees stop of a sudden and the sun shines down.” His face tilted up as if basking in the imaginary glow. “You get this view that goes on forever.” He took a long pull on his ale “A place to watch Dragons and Eagles my Grandma would have said”

Laughing gently to himself he said “Not a bad place for a bite and a pipe I said”

A pipe appeared from his coat on cue and he set about filling it.

“I tethered the horses and got them feeding” a look of surprise flitted across his face “How is it that I know they was eating oats and corn but I’ll be damned if I can recall what I was eating as my family died”

Felaz lit his pipe from a proffered candle and inhaled deeply before blowing out a lung full of heavy dark smoke

“A mist covered all of Cyre” more smoke accentuated his words “The whole bloody place looked like a cloud” Another smoky breath “Where it come from nobody can say. I swear it appeared when I blinked” He blinked “Breland forest was clear as summer, but Cyre was gone.”

The locals were silent, they had heard the story before but Felaz had lived it. Second hand accounts were the norm, he said she said or someone knew someone who had heard it from a survivor. This was real.

“Some folk say that the gods punished us that day” He shrugged “Some say we did it to ourselves” he answered himself with a slight shake of the head “Magic rained down, storms of fire, the death of my nation.” Silence followed.

“I just remember the mist. I didn’t see no gods, I didn’t hear no war.” He carefully placed his drink down“

“The birds didn’t even stop singing” Tears were flowing down his cheeks.

“I was stood in heaven looking at hell” He put the pipe and tankard onto the table before slowly standing up.

“I’m not sure how long it was” He glanced at the floor “Felt like forever before the mists began to pull back” He placed his hands together before slowly drawing them apart “They rolled back like they was pushed” He stopped moving, his arms spread wide.

Sitting down hard he drained his drink in three gulps.

“All gone” Enjoying the ambiguity of these words he placed the tankard on the table and picked up his pipe.

“You all know the rest” He told his audience “We’re a scattered people now, what’s left of us” He nodded a thanks “You’ve done us proud and made us welcome, gave those that ask a home and that’s appreciated”

He stood and began to gather his gear then shook a few hands and thanked a couple of faces. Once everything was in order he made his way to the door.

He stopped with his hand hovering on the handle. Then without looking back he said.

“That’s not how we end though” Turning the handle he threw open the door, bright sun streamed in framing him in silhouette

“I am a Knight of Cyre and I give my people this promise” All eyes were fixed on him.

“We will have our home back at any cost”

Sir Felaz of Cyre strode into the light and was gone.