Sir Triston looked below at the valley, gifted with a river and surrounded by undulating hills and mountains. Wind pushed his hair and beard behind as it formed patterns on his dark coloured scholar's robe.

Wilbur would never have expected that the back of the cottage would give way to such a low drop below and the steep land would slowly curve and seamlessly merge into river Murh. From this height, the waters seemed relatively calm, reflecting the early morning sunlight in a welcoming fashion, but Wilbur knew it to be an illusion. Although Murh wasn't the biggest or the most ferocious river in the land, it had a force that couldn't be taken lightly.

The mountains and hills that lay on the opposite banks spoke of wisdom and majesty found in the lore of old. Their robes made of evergreen Mirwood whose leaves changed their colours of green in response to sunlight. The highest mountains had a regal crown composed of white clouds, that shifted and swirled, declaring the power of those that wore it. The early morning mist providing them grandeur to make it seem like there could exist no greater King, which Wilbur fancied might have been true then.

"Do you see that Priest Bill?" Sir Triston interrupted the whistle of the winds. Wilbur looked in the direction Sir Triston pointed. To the right just beside the valley a structure could be seen rising up from the trees. A thin veil of mist still surrounded the forest.

Priest Bill had spent much of his time admiring the beauty of this valley, and he had ample time. Alchemy did not allure him, he chose rather to worship the Gods in view of the valley. He replied, "I have oft wondered what purpose it serves. No one lives there that I assure you."

"That does ring true, priest. No one lives there, no one had ever lived there, and no one will ever live there," said Sir Triston, his right hand stroking his beard, his intense eyes staring across the horizon before resting on the structure he was previously pointing to.

Wilbur noticed a dome rise above the trees in the distance. It wasn't close to the river, like one would have expected any house to be. But the spire on the dome proved it wasn't a house at all, it was a temple.

The remains of a temple to be more precise.

Sir Triston's eyes drifted again towards the mountain kings on the opposite banks of the river. He let the wind whistle before he spoke, "I find Greenlits to be an intriguing species. Innocent and yet so open, they possess the power to break a man with his own fear and spear. They show what you have within. Maybe it's their purity itself that lends them that quality."

Wilbur failed to see where this was leading, or how the structure was in any way related to Greenlits. He was getting used to the way Sir Triston spoke, and he knew they would connect in some fashion sometimes unexpected, he just had to listen.

"In the morn, sunlight reigns supreme and no other light dare shine brighter than its might, but at night a new world unfolds." He spread his arms as if summoning nature itself, still looking at the horizon, "The whole of this forest lights up with the green little eyes of Greenlits. From afar, it seems that the trees have developed luminous ripples of their own, the trees have learned the way of the sea, the leaves have learned the tricks of the ocean waves. Sometimes when something intrigues these creatures, more light can be seen accumulated in one place. But one thing is constant for the steady listener, the sound of mirth and joy. The sound of children doing what they do best, laugh.

"Who would dare disturb that peace? You tell me, would you let anyone disturb that peace? They say one cannot know the true value of joy if they have not tasted grief. Now I ask you have the Greenlits not tasted joy itself? Then their mirth fades in comparison to ours if you follow that chain.

"But I say they laugh, because they see laughter contains meaning. It's beyond your control, and yet it's in everyone's reach. They laugh the loudest for they have seen the worst.

"The worst of you, that is; The worst of us.

"But what if a man has no malice in his heart, no fear, no regrets? What do the Greenlits show them then?"

The pause was filled with the whistling wind.

"They show them nothing. You are allowed to laugh with them like they do."

Wilbur looked towards the Spire rising from among the trees.

Can he walk among Greenlits unfazed? Does he not get affected by them at all? Is that what he means here? I have never heard anyone do that before.

"Yes, there are men who can walk through this forest without being affected in the least. Very few grown man can achieve the same, but it can be done. Did you know? Infants can play with these Greenlits without being affected in the least? As their age increases so do the burdens and a man gets less and less familiar with what purity is, what living without doubt is. Hence, the less number of people, and the difficulty.

"But a priest must hold such purity in divine light for his connection extends directly to God. So a few centuries ago, there was a rule in our Empire. The High Priest, or Gladivant, the man known to posses highest spiritual power in the Empire, was selected by a simple process. The candidates for the title of Gladivant, were made to cross this forest of Greenwoods. They were forbidden use of any form of magic. Their journey was about a day long, to that temple there, from a fixed entrance to the forest."

He pointed at the dome a second time as he continued, "If a person managed to reach the temple, he would be declared the Gladivant of the Empire. His word would hold more power than the law itself."

Priest Bill looked concerned, "And what happened to the rest of the candidates who failed to reach there?"

Sir Triston stroked his beard, "They were lost forever in the forest, driven to insanity. No search parties as such could be sent to the forest of Greenlits anyways. Alchemists and magicians could barely hold them back for hours, let alone the days it would take to find them. Moreover they were more likely dead. It was an extreme test"

He waved his right hand, "But then again, it would be your fault."

Priest Bill raised his eyebrows, "Extreme process indeed."

Sir Triston nodded, "Effective but extreme all the same. And that is why the process was banned. The High Priest was then decided by more conventional methods. But the power a Gladivant held was drastically reduced as expected."

He folded his hands behind his back like was his habit, "Now his word is just this whistling wind we hear. The King uses the name to his means, not that it has as much weight anymore."

The faint rustling of thousands of trees echoed to Wilbur's ears as a heavy gust blew.

Sir Triston then turned towards them, "So Priest Bill, the first priest of the White God, and Wilbur the founder of The Order of The White Capes. Do you think you can make the journey to that temple, without the use of any alchemy?"

Wilbur recalled the last experience he had in the forest. A mere five hour journey had driven him to question his own beliefs. He already knew the answer to that question. Although he could not recall how Priest Bill had been affected.

"Do you think you can take the test of a Gladivant?"