The spring sunlight swallowed the remnants of winter snow, which melted into babbling streams that merged into the Ibe River from the white-topped blue-bottomed mountains.
Breaking through the sunlight and water waves, the Saint Sun's Ship from ry Court Barracks stood proudly on the Ibe River.
Clad in a fine Norn fur cloak, Hilov sat at the edge of the ship's rail, gripping the railing, and eagerly gazed to the sides.
In the clearing formed by the maple forest along the riverbank, several waterwheels had already been turning, emitting sharp groans that resembled the labored breathing of an old donkey.
Behind the waterwheels were wooden barracks, a circle of anti-wolf walls, and arrow towers, with small plots of potato and purple egg fields in front of the walls.
"What's that?" Hilov asked, pointing at the distant barracks.
Horn didn't approach the ship's edge, just remained dozing off by the fire: "A logging site."
