Deep in Evermoor there is a traditional looking log cabin. There are several, actually. These are known by those who know (which are not very many) as Roland’s Retreats. Although vastly different in style, size, and location they have similar qualities; they are rustic, isolated, defendable, and offer a grand view of a breathtakingly pristine scene of nature.
At this cabin, on this day, he Duke of Evermoor was sitting on his front porch with his shirt off (he just finished chopping some wood) doing something completely against his image. He was reading a book.
With a sudden sniff of his nose his eyes flicked up to survey his surroundings. He remained completely motionless for a few seconds then relaxed as an older man in a green robe came trudging up the path. Roland did not know who he was but he knew what he was. The man was a Druid.
“Hallo,” called out the man but he continued walking without waiting for an answer. The Druids new enough of Roland that if he did not tell them to go away they could approach but not expect him to be friendly about it. Roland lived up to this expectation by merely grunting.
The man sat on the railing of the porch.
“A little bird told me that you had returned and that you may have something of interest.”
Without looking up from his reading he reached into the bag hanging on he chair and handed the Druid a book that looked like the exact same book he was currently reading. The man took it and opened it and randomly read some pages before looking up at Roland.
“This is of the True Magic.”
“Yes. A man by the name of Mordred has started training people in the Art. I thought you would be interested on what he had to say about it. He penned the book. It doesn’t tell any secrets but it gives insight to his ideals as well as some ideas possible uses beyond what is done normally. Quite a bit about healing.”
“Thank you.”
“You can go now, but use the other path. There is a family of bears playing down they way you came up.”
When the Druid was beyond the range of Roland’s senses he sat back from his reading and listened to the bears play for a while. He got up with the book and entered his cabin.
Along the entire back wall was a beautiful bookcase, complete with brass hardware and framed glass doors. It took Roland several months to make it. The bookcase was full of books with topics ranging from wood lore to history to Stephen King to Magic. He placed Mordred’s manifesto with the other books of that topic then closed the case.
“I wonder what mother would think of Mordred’s little book,” he mused silently.