[h2][b][u]CHAPTER 2: THE LOYALISTS[/u][/b][/h2]

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It was the latter hours of the day, the golden summer sun that had shone from above was now descending behind the distant mountains to the west. The warm rays that had bathed the earth just hours before faded as the sky turned to dusk and the evening was announced. 

The village of Willowshire sat comfortably nestled into the green meadows of the surrounding solitary countryside. The entire town was built along a single wide dirt road that cut through the town east and west. The road itself was lined with several homes, as well as the inn, which sat at on the eastern end of town on the north side of the road. Several fields and farmhouses as well as a mill stretched along the north side of town, connected amongst themselves and to the main road by small footpaths. To the south lay a vast forest which was teeming with wild game, making this a favorite area for hunters and trappers. 

As the day ended, the last signs of life could be seen winding down in Willowshire. Mothers ushered their children inside for the evening, farmers were putting away their tools and locking up their livestock, and house windows began to glow golden from candle and lantern light.
The town blacksmith was hanging up his apron on the wall of the forgery when he spied a large carriage pulled by four horses come rolling into town from down the eastern road. The horses were trotting along at a moderate pace, not too fast, but not very slow and relaxed either. Rather curious, the blacksmith hung back near his forge and watched as the carriage came to a stop before the inn, halted by a yanking of the reigns and a short “Whoa” from the driver, a grizzly looking older man in a dull brown tunic and trousers. Evening in the fading sunlight his mottly gray hair and scruffy face were visible. The blacksmith continued watching from the porch of his forge as the rugged looking man hopped down from the carriage, slightly shaking it, and stepped around to the opposite side of the carriage which faced the front of the inn.

With a grunt to himself, the blacksmith went inside his house to retire for the night. 

The carriage driver reached up with his right hand and pulled open the wide wooden door.

[b]”We’re here.”[/b]