Envoys from the Silverfang Basin

The early winter snows had begun to dust the high pines of the Great Valley when the silver-and-black banners of the Silverfang Basin appeared on the southern horizon. A delegation of forty mounted emissaries, accompanied by twelve ox-drawn wagons laden with trade tribute, rode slowly down the valley road toward the gates of Blackwood Keep. For sixty winters, the Silverfang wolves had been the bitter, aggressive rivals of the Blackwood…