Lord Bertin sat astride his charger watching the refugees of Edenshire stream into his gate. The small hamlet sat on the edge of his territory. Word had come a week ago that the soldiers of the neighboring kingdom of Verbia were approaching his lands. Lord Bertin took his army and raced to protect his people and his holdings.
But he arrived too late to save many.
“Will you have room for all of us, my lord?” William, one of Eldenshire’s surviving elders, stood beside Lord Bertin watching the long procession.
“They are my people and I will see they are provided for until Edenshire can be rebuilt and secured again.”
Women and children, covered in soot, staggered in an unending line. The littlest and wounded were in the few remaining wagons. One person caught Lord Bertin’s attention. She was the only one who had her hood up. “Who is that?”
Everyone has moments of loneliness, but there is greater depth to those of us who feel we are never seen. But in that you are strong.