MILESTONES: THE FALL OF THORNHELM
Trafficking in Denial
Listen, there is nothing charming about stagnation. Our thoughts, our values, our desires, all these things are meant to evolve and so are we. It’s our job as people to do everything we can to challenge what we think we know and discard whatever doesn’t survive the scrutiny. Who we are today should only be a fraction of who we become tomorrow.
Unfortunately, the Tyrin, for all their long-lived wisdom refused change their thinking, choosing instead to face the future with an outmoded and often insipid set of virtues.
POVERTY OF EXPECTATIONS
While things had started well enough, with the Sunwardens effortlessly holding back the advancing Haswell conscripts, The Dawn Queen could foresee the tide turning, and soon.
Haswell had called on the Hierarch for support. A detail the Tyrin had scryed far too late, allowing the conflict to escalate from a petty border dispute with the Named Powers to an all-out war with Nine-Spires. What’s worse, the Hierarch had answered this unexpected turn of events with a grand show of force, committing three whole divisions to the fight. This unexpected call to arms
from the humans was maddening. After Haswell’s repeated and crushing defeats along the border, Tyrin leadership had expected parley under a banner of truce. A valuable opportunity to reestablish Tyrin dominance at the edge of their Freehold. This was their chance to etch the boundaries of the Summer Lands in stone, halting future incursions permanently.
There’s an arrogance built into the long lived. A sense that access to time makes every conflict a winnable one. Even as this thinking has cost the Fae dearly over and over, across a multitude of worlds, they refuse to acknowledge its folly. Choosing instead to embrace this failing no matter how it injures every grand design they conjure.
Unfortunately, all did not go as planned, and Tyrin intentions were misread. The veil of Tyrin intellect was often impenetrable to human minds. They’d laugh when they should cry; attack when conventional wisdom demanded retreat. All Haswell saw was the oncoming tide of genocide across his northern holdings and panicked. Seeing reason in Haswell’s assessment of the situation, the Hierarch reduced the conflict to simple numbers and sent reinforcements. Knowing the Tyrin were few, and every death came with a lasting price, the Hierarch hoped to balance the terms of the next engagement.
When reinforcements finally arrived after a three-day march from Nine-Spires’ most northern jump gate, they found the Thornhelm empty. With only a strange array of stone statues blocking their entry, Haswell’s forces smashed through the largest of the obstacles and pressed on into Summer.