The late autumn morning fog had yet to dissipate as Old Allen, accompanied by Jack and Horn, set off on the road to Monte Castle.
In an era of short life expectancies, Old Allen, at nearly seventy years of age, was naturally chosen as a representative due to his seniority.
Horn was selected for his literacy, while Jack himself couldn't say why he'd been chosen—perhaps because he was always so eager to help his neighbors.
Along the way, Jack carefully supported Old Allen, while Horn carried a small bundle containing a wedding gift the farmers had all chipped in for.
A jar of homemade honey.
"This road is much harder to travel than when Lord Sylvan was here," Old Allen said, leaning on his elmwood cane and carefully avoiding the mud puddles. "It used to be paved with gravel. It wouldn't get this muddy even when it rained."
