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About this City Journal

Of the country of Wēneard and its cities

Entries in this City Journal


So my journey went on. Travelling through the wood I spent days, the path was rough and disused, built long ago by the founders of the Skilpholt village. It went through hills and valleys. So I past the first village, Gwenholt, a little bigger than Skilpholt, being in a deep valley, near a spring. The poeple there are nice and welcoming to guests, as soon as people knew about my purpose of travelling through the country, I was offered a place to sleep and a good meal. The people there were amazed when I told them where I had been born.

In that way I walked for two weeks and a day and as I went on I started to hear more and more often the name of Afen. I had heard of it in one of my favourite tales, but I saw it too impressive to be true. But, there I was, at a week's walk from it, the City of Light, home of many brave legendary characters, fair city full of life.

I was recommended to follow the river Eowdir, in the shores of which lies the city of Afen. I followed the suggestion and it turned out well: In a week's time I was arriving in the city. Completely amazed and captivated by the beauty of the city.


The Old Town and the Red Wood

The first sight of the city is the old town, the first stone houses of the city and a huge statue of Gwaillen the Great, founder of the city.


The Library on the banks of the river Eowdir


The First Bridge over Eowdir


A boulevard during automn


A Park at Night


My name is Gwillan, I was born in the village of Skilpholt, in the country of Wēneard, name which in the Gerewisc language, spoken in all the country, means "Land of Hope."

And it is called so for a reason: no one do I know cold hearted or impolite, nor do I know one place which could not be called fair; and though I have never left Wēneard, my will has taken me to every single corner of it.


(Sunset falling in Skilpholt)

The village of Skilpholt was no more than that: a village. A proud and pretty one, but probably not more than fifty families lived in it. It is set just between a big lake and an even bigger wood. Ever green, the Great Wood, after which the city takes its name.

As a child I would always be ready to hear tales about the lands beyond the Skilpholt wood and the wonderful cities and villages in them; but they were nothing but stories, and vague they seemed, for it had been ages since someone born in my little village had set foot beyond the forest, and all that now remained was some distant memory, to the point that the very existence of those legendary places was in doubt.

But, unlike the other villagers, I was born with a great spirit of adventure, and as I grew older, stories were not enough to satisfy my curiosity. Then I unexpectedly found myself setting off through a long abandoned path, the place where I had lived all my life behind, and a whole country to discover ahead.

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