Cain breathed a small sigh of relief as Corna rose from behind the mountains of Olivia. He turned his mount around and looked behind him to see if he could catch Morendo before it disappeared behind Wisemount, but Corna’s halo obscured his view of the setting moon. The night always made him uneasy, perhaps because of his Cornath birth, or perhaps because of the night terrors that used to plague him as a child. Either way, the night was over, but his assignment was not. The moonlight had given way to sunlight, exposing in front of him the rolling hills of Northern Dol’Phan that stretched from Fusion all the way to the Wisenwood. It was in these hills that the first civilizations of Dol’Phan came to blossom, in the form of small farms and pastures. Towns grew around these small farms, and, due to trade with the southern fishing villages, evolved into epicenters of trading and commerce.
His current destination was the smallest of these towns, Salttown, which was nestled where the Westbranch River met the North Wall. Salttown was to inaugerate a new Temple in two days time, and as one of Fusion’s Quarter-Monitors, it was his job to provide escort for one of Fusion’s Wisemen to the dedication for his blessing. The escort was a rare occurrence nowadays, as there hadn’t been a temple opened in over a generation, and the Wisemen rarely made trips outside of Fusion due to their increased fragility and because of the decreased belief of the general population in the religious system. Cain was inclined to agree with the sentiments of the population.  Years ago, back when civilization was primitive and when Grand Roots were abundant throughout the continent, temples thrived and Wisemen ruled as gods. They were said to possess an inert ability to sense Grand Energy and tap into its many uses, many of which focused on healing the sick, blessing the growth of crops, and fertilizing previously barren soil. It was said that they drew their power from the Grand Energy, which grew as strong as the population’s belief in it. Although the Wisemen were once as abundant as the crops they blessed, the growth of self-governed civilization diverted the attention of the population from the Wisemen to the regional leaders and self-appointed kings. As the belief in Grand Energy wained, so did the strength of the Wisemen. Their numbers depleted, and with it, their power. Now they serve merely as symbolic figures who rarely leave their perch in the Granite Tower of Fusion. To escort one was a spectacle requiring intense preparation and careful execution. Wisemen were never in mortal danger, as to kill one was said to bring extreme misfortune to the individual, as well as their country. It was said to bring an imbalance to the energy, given how close it was said the Wisemen were to the Grand Energy.
They were strange creatures, the Wisemen. They were rarely seen anymore. No one knew if they slept, what they ate, or if they even spoke. They travelled in an enclosed wagon throughout all journeys, and when they blessed a temple, they never exposed their face. They always wore a thick gray cloak that shrouded their entire body. The most inconvenient thing to Cain was that the Wisemen never travelled at night, which meant that every night required the establishment of a camp, and which relegated Cain to scouting duties until Corna’s rising.