Did travel she whom labor and sweat had never known, with nary ally nor bladesman sworn to lead her safely to a new home, whose corridors wallowed in bitter, frigid cold. And what home would it be, so far from everything that was once embraced so dearly? Could value be found by placing steel stakes in the ground of a land of such harsh reality? Onward and forward, shadows guiding the path, no room for the pettiness of wrath at what had once been had, now long gone, the only hope was to carry on alone. Coffers did burst, drained to the last, that stone walls might erect, and shield from the fast growing threat of invaders or worse. Alas, woven steadfast, the strands of fate and will should always be present to they who refuse to lie still, for opportunity abounds where courage resounds. New allies were gained, dubious relations obtained, compromises begrudgingly made, and freedom sustained. What more could the fallen pray for? Now my eyes are on one, silver of tongue, whose wit may well match my own. Yet near him I must be as cold stone, for cold stone is all I've now to call my own.