Roland had finally returned to his beloved Evermoor. Between the war, the clean up, death of the King, and the purges he had been kept away longer than he liked. He wanted to rest but he could not. Although Evermoor was largely unaffected by the fallout, mainly because there was almost nothing here to effect, he wanted to ensure its safety. Never again would an outside force pass through Evermoor.
He had returned with less than 70 Huntsmen. He sent half of them home. The rest, the best, he had follow him deeper into Evermoor. He reached a point were there was a pool of cool water. He talked to it and then he and his men bathed and were refreshed. When they continued on their number had grown. Now small winged men flew by their side along with ethereally beautiful women who seemed to fade in and out of reality.
Finally, after trekking through the deepest and darkest parts of Evermmor. After passing by creatures that were more than animals but not quite monsters. Where it was only by Roland's will as master of this realm, did the live. They arrived at a place deep in the wild of Evermoor where Trogre fear to tread. Waiting for them were a group of High Druids and a handful of Evermoor's master craftsmen.
"We build it here."
For two years they planned and designed. They drew upon the Huntsmen's knowledge of war and hunting, the craftsmen's skills, the Druid's wisdom of Magic and lore, and Roland's knowledge of the Universe.
One of the Huntsmen eyed the plans critically; "It will be three times the size of Castle Amber and will be like a house of stone as compared to a house of straw."
Roland nodded.
The Huntsmen went into Evermoor and returned with their families. They were the labor. With great precision, the carpenters and smiths of Evermoor began crafting while the Druids enchanted every piece that was made. On that spot that Roland had brought them to, something began to grow. Roland left.
He returned with stone quarried from Kovlir itself. From the real world these blocks came. The craftsmen took them and placed them. The Druids reinforced them with magic and blood. Roland watched. He lifted beams into position. He carved doors into the stone. He watched as the building took shape and as it's walls began to grow. He and the wisest of the Druids left.
Several years later he returned. The Druids inquired to their comrade and Roland replied, "She is not done yet."
He watched some more and helped where he was able. The Fey began to add their own touches and the castle slowly began to change. The wildness of Evermoor crept in to find its place here. As it should be. The universe demanded Roland's attention so he left again.
More time passes and the fortress grows to astounding heights. Some of the Huntsmen turn to crafting siege engines and other weapons of war. While others go into the wild in search of others. The Druids become anxious as the craftsmen put their finishing touches on this monument of strength and life. It was almost time.
Finally, Roland returns with huge wagons pulled by the wild beasts of Evermoor and the Fey. On the first wagon large doors can be seen. They are over twenty feet wide and forty feet tall... each. They are the same metal as the head of Roland's ax. They will be the entrance to the citadel. In the other wagons lay other doors and coverings. All made of the same metal and covered with the markings of the highest order of Magic.
The Druids asked about their companion once again and Roland replied, "These things are the culmination of her life's work."
They understood. It was time.
The doors were put into place and everyone came outside. The Druids did their Magic. The Fortress was now alive to defend Evermoor.
Not very many people live at the Fortress, although there is enough room and food and water to hold almost the whole City of Amber. Just a few families remain to maintain it and to keep it company. Those few Huntsmen with the skill, determination, and strength to make it here are greeted as siblings and trained by the best to become the best. They are True Huntsman. The Druids are always coming and going doing the mysterious things that Druids do. Roland visits from time to time. He watches the towers grow like trees. The strong walls thicken with each passing year. He was not happy that he had to create it but, now that it is complete, he is very pleased.
The Fortress itself is patient. It is content to wait and grow strong. It was given the knowledge that it will be central to any defense of Evermoor and it wants to be prepared.