Melat awoke to the sound of birds chirping in the air and the smell of fresh fish. The bells from the incoming ships rang intermittently from the dock, on time as usual. Melat checked his mail box to find it littered with parchments written in bold letters. I've been asleep way too long, he thought.
Pulling out some of the parchments, he began to scan the contents. Wars, rumors of wars, darkfriends, murders, warrants, accusations. He muttered under his breath and sighed while reaching for cup of water to drink. What is this news about a silver box with a head in it? Melat shook his own head and began to write out a message.
Finishing his message and attaching it to a carrier pigeon, Melat stared out of his window and towards the Sea. He took a sip of water. Yes, the Stone must be defended at all costs. This means physically and defending its reputation. This is the calling of a true Defender.
Melat turned to a stale honey cake left out. He stared intently and spoke to it. "The Defenders were built on pride and honor! I will help restore that."
Grabbing the stale honey cake, he took a hard bite and tore off some of the leathery crust. He chewed the honey cake while breathing through his mouth. He paused chewing to take a sip of water to soften the cake. After swallowing, Melat began to smile slowly. A cold gentle breeze blew from the South and into the room. There is much work to be done, he thought. But first, where are my pants?