The Frewyn Herald: Home of the Haanta Series

Damson's Distress is on its way, and the Slave Galley is almost complete! If you've enjoyed the stories, join our Patreon campaign so we can keep them going. And now, part two of Baleigh's Books, in honour of the late Babar Books: Goodbye Babar. We loved you dearly. O ld Mr Baleigh was standing at the register, adding up what was to be the last of his sennight sums, whilst his wife and their children were walking up and down the spiral stairs, bringing     down all the books shelved along the highest row. Boxes lined the floor, packing paper and ribbons were strewn about, sale signs cluttered the windows, the dust of thirty years hung lifeless in shafts of morning light, the gilding of perfectly prim pages shone incanescent, the shriek of rolling ladders mourned in perennial soliloquy. The gentle peal of the bell at the top of the door caromed throughout the shoppe, and the Baleigh family turned to find King Alasdair approaching the counter. Time moved in a slow...

I am absolutely fraught with misery. This morning I learned that my local bookstore is going out of business after thirty years of serving our small community. I grieved for some time, and then did the only thing I know how: I wrote a story about it.                 I t was early when the commander went down to the kitchen. Hardly anyone was awake to see the first of the season’s frosts, but she knew her father and the twins and anyone else belonging to the agrarian set should be up and walking amongst the rimed rows. She put the kettle on the range and sat at the table, content to admire the ascendance of a autumnian sun, while her mate and his father walked along the line of the wood in the near distance. The tranquility of the scene, the altering hues of aurora, the fritinancy of nature’s first wakefulness, the small sounds of the keep in the early hours marked out the day for being uncommonly lovely...

Rannig, as large and as friendly as he is, has a great fear of insects. We know from previous stories of his experiences with fireflies, spiders, and clouds of gnats, but never before has he met with so formidable an opponent: A small wooden basin landed on the shore, and Danaco pointed to it just as the crew of the Myrellenos began pouring out of the ship. “There is your basin, sir knight. You were given a light job, and I think you might do it, even in your condition. Do not scruple. Someone will convey your armour from the ship and help you to put it on, as you are so anxious to be without it any longer than is necessary. My clothes do well on you, however. I hope you have found them tolerable comfortable, and you did not wrinkle them-- Oh, Rannig, what have you found? Was there a biscuit left that crept off the plate? Well, it has only fallen on the cloth. I think you may eat it. You need not look so forfrighted about it.” Rannig stared at the biscuit and trembled in...