Wilbur

The woods were a shade lighter in Greenseed than the ones in the forest before. The branches spread much wider for the thickness of their trunk. The canopy formed, almost completely shut out the view of the stars the night sky had to offer. Mirwood, noted Wilbur. The road was not as wide either, it was a road less trodden, apparent from the fact that the dried leaves and twigs still seemed intact. The air seemed to be a tone cooler. It was as if Greenseed was a different part of the Empire altogether; Greenseed had an environment of its own. The usual crickets could not be heard, nor the occasional cooing of a bird, scratching of the trunk by a bear's paw, low grunt of a leopard. The only sound was the slow movement of the three hundred White Capes attempting to make passage through Greenseed. The forest respected silence.

Silence suited them well.

This is what we need. A safer haven than any town can provide.

Sir Florent had exploited all his contacts and tapped all the strings he could, without sacrificing their location, to know where Sir Triston resided in the forest. The answer that had come up was fairly simple. But simple things are deceiving, mused Wilbur. At the end of the road lay Sir Triston's abode, a journey of about five hours. Five hours through a forest that sheltered Greenlits.

Greenlits were the reason that the resources that Greenwood provided had never been exploited. Moreover, Mirwood was not economical to harvest. Strong as it was, took long to take down, with annual yield much lower than average wood. Mirwood wasn't any carpenter's favorite either, with the inflexibility to be molded into proper furniture it presented, thereby giving rise to the common simile 'as stiff as Mirwood'.

And Greenlits are a 'gift of Mirwood',recalled Wilbur.

Suddenly Wilbur spotted a pair of eyes to his left. The soft green shade seemed to call to him.

Wilbur?

He raised a hand and the three hundred instantly stopped.

"Spotted them?" whispered Sir Florent. Even the whisper seemed too loud.

Wilbur nodded. As if to answer Sir Florent's question and prove Wilbur right, many pairs of little green eyes started emerging from all around them. Soon the pairs grew too many to keep a proper count. The little eyes were completely green and all of multiple shades, glowing with a faint hue. It was not this that Wilbur found eerie; it was the silence. More pairs kept emerging but not a single sound was made as to when the Greenlits arrived, there was not the slightest rustle of leaves nor the faint snap of a branch.

It is like they are already there or never there in the first place.

A child like giggle could be heard echoing from somewhere. Or was it multiple giggles from everywhere? Wilbur failed to realise.

Despite the multiple glowing green eyes the atmosphere had seemed to grow darker, faint silhouette of the thin trees all around them with a pairs of green eyes on its branches added to that effect. Wilbur is that you? a voice called to him.

It is your own mind.

Wilbur calmed himself with a deeper breath as he looked at Priest Bill. The priest was ready for his call, as he started chanting the name of the White God in tones both loud and low, Priest Ferdinand of Wheatbridge assisting him. That only led to more Greenlits emerging, there was sufficient light to see some of their faces. They had child like innocent faces, with little smiles and an occasionally frown. Wilbur caught sight of one with a plump face, the Greenlit giggled and a voice spoke in his head, Glidron returned but not Finch.

Wilbur closed his eyes and shook his head. Greenlits had bodies as those of little infants and an ability to evoke memories deep engraved and sometimes hidden. Not only memories, emotions, thoughts unspoken and sometimes truth one only knows about oneself. Truth one can only figure about ones own self. They rarely attacked anyone physically. It was not physical strength required there.

Wilbur signalled the priests to stop as only more Greenlits seemed to emerge at the chanting.

They are known to be pure beings after all. God's name only appeals to them.

Wilbur unsheathed his blade and threw it in the air. The Gladinstone blade flickered to life as it floated in mid air. The blade that reacts to will. Your will, is it?

Wilbur closed his eyes a second time as he realised he was not able to hold the sword properly. He willed the blade to go near the Greenlits. The Greenlits gathered around to admire the glowing white blade with their green innocent eyes. Wilbur retracted the blade as one of them extended his child like fingers to touch the blade.

They remain unafraid, mused Wilbur. The question lies... lies. .deceit...Are you unafraid?

As the thought crossed his mind he heard a huge roar and collective chirping of thousands of birds around, as they came towards him with red eyes, grey feathers. Wilbur sheathed his blade, the clang left silence where the birds once were. He had started breathing heavily. "Sir Florent," he ordered.