The first few pages of the Chronicle contain the covenant's pactum, or written charter.
Colaire then relates the story of how the covenant came to be founded.
Colaire came from the unhappy covenant of Coeur du Bois in the Provençal Tribunal. Coeur du Bois was beset by many enemies, including a powerful covenant called the Crimson Brotherhood. Colaire saw that Coeur du Bois was doomed to fail- as indeed it later did- and he set about looking for another covenant to join. This brought him to the Normandy Tribunal conclave of 1200, where he met the like-minded magus Verditius Clementis. Clementis was unhappy with his covenant of Rosae Candidus, which was keeping him in a limbo of probationary membership while he labored many seasons making enchanted items to earn his tenure.
The two strikingly different magi- the wise and easygoing Clementis and the bold and adventuresome Colaire- became instant friends. They decided that, as young magi, they could together found a covenant that would offer a better hope of fulfilling their individual dreams. They traveled together to Rosae Candidus and began poring over old maps and books of folklore in hope of finding an enchanted site.
The year of 1201 was a busy one. Colaire visited many covenants in the Normandy Tribunal to raise money and political support for his new venture- promising rich future payments of vis to his benefactors. Clementis plundered the library of Rosae Candidus, pretending to study texts while he was actually copying several in succession. Both magi devoted their spare moments to pursuing mystical rumors, researching half-forgotten folk tales, and poring over maps of Europe in search of unclaimed magical sites where they could found their covenant.
It was Clementis who came across the legend of the Dragon's Breath, the magical mist in the dragon-trod hills of distant Wales:
In the thickly-wooded hills of Tergeigl in northern Gwynedd there was once a Roman fort guarding the ford across the River Clwyd. The Romans at the fort dug a huge mine deep into the hills and they enslaved many Welshmen to labor in its tunnels. The Romans grew rich from their mining, although the fort was small.
After many years, an old woman approached the Praefectus of the fort and petitioned him to release her sons from slavery. "Welshmen were not meant to be slaves," she said. "With all the riches you have, you could pay for hired laborers, who would work harder than slaves." The Praefectus said that slaves worked hard enough when they were whipped, and he sent the old woman away.
The old woman approached the Praefectus a second time, offering to buy her sons' freedom in exchange for a rich price in cattle. "Surely, I offer youy fair trade for my sons' freedom," she said. Again, the Praefectus refused.
When the old woman returned a third time, she said to the Praefectus, "I am known in these parts as a seeress; my visions always come true. If you free my sons now, I will foretell the evil future that awaits you and all your cohorts, and you may perchance avert it." The Praefectus laughed at her, called her a witch, and had her flogged from the fort.
So the old woman did not tell him that as his slaves dug ever deeper into the hills, they disturbed the slumber of a huge dragon that, even in those bygone days, was ancient. When swirling mists issued forth from the mines, the slaves panicked and fled, for they recognized the Dragon's Breath that the old woman had foretold.
The Romans paid the mist no heed and busied themselves with recapturing their slaves. Thus they were taken unaware when the great dragon burst from the deepest mine and destroyed the fort with its fiery breath. The Romans soldiers scattered into the forest, but the Welshmen armed themselves and drove the Romans like sheep back into the open, where the dragon devoured them.
After gorging itslef, the dragon gathered all the treasure from the fort into its claws and returned to its lair under the earth. But it does not sleep so soundly as it did before the Romans awakened it, and its breath is often seen on the hillsides when it sleeps lightly, dreaming of mayhem and plunder.
Both magi researched the legend and gleaned from Hermetic records what little knowledge they could of the politics of the Stonehenge Tribunal. The site appeared to be genuine and unclaimed, so Colaire, after a final round of fund-raising that included selling his entire personal store of vis for cash, gathered a few hired grogs (under his trusted captain Taurus) and made the long journey to Wales to explore the site.
Bound into the Chronicle is Colaire's exuberant letter to Clementis, dated Spring 1341, describing his find. He describes the site as prime, and reports the fortuituous presence of an abandoned silver mine that he hopes can provide a source of income. He reported opening negotiations meeting two local magi, the Merinita maga Eirian Willowwood and the elementalist Bynach Gam, who were ready to join in founding the covenant. Colaire wrote that Wales was a wild and untamed land, a place of splendid beauty, yet in great need of civilized Reason to cultivate and direct its boundless potential.
A fifth magus has offered to join us. His name is Cygnar ap Glyndwr, a follower of Tytalus, and he followed rumors of our founding a covenant all the way from his home in Brecon in southern Wales. He does his best to hide his eagerness, but I clearly piqued his interest when I described the many fine tomes Clementis is copying from Rosae Candidus.
We have permission from the local lord to settle in these hills- it seems the Welsh nobles are eager to clear new lands. Of course, I have told him nothing of our Arts. He thinks we are but wealthy gentlemen from France, hoping to establish a country retreat here in the North. Would that we were as wealthy as he thinks! Already my purse grows alarmingly light, and scarcely have we begun to lay the foundations of our new home.
The men are in fine spirits. We are all living in tents in the forest. Local peasants are willing to labor for us for just a few farthings- we will need many strong backs to clear this dense forest. This Welsh language is hard on the tongue, but my man Hubert is cleverer than he looks, and he has begun to understand it.
Taurus tells me that the men of Wales measure wealth in cattle, not acres of land. Accordingly, I have spent much of our silver to acquire a small herd, which we put to pasture in the valley. Taurus tells me the soil here is too poor for growing much grain, and we shall have to live on milk and cheese as the Welshmen do.
My good friend and sodalis Verditius Clementis arrived early in the season with his latest wonder: an enchanted axe he calls the Axe of the Titans. It can cut down a mature tree with just a few strokes. The Welsh laborers are enormously pleased to see our magic at work and they seem to hold us in high regard.
Cygnar has been a great help in recruiting laborers and men-at-arms. These Welshmen seem a warlike race and all are skilled with gigantic bows of surpassing power. They seem to have no distrust of magi and they sign on with us eagerly. Taurus is making efforts to learn their barbaric language, but Hubert is much more proficient than he. For now, Cygnar is overseeing the grogs personally, for he speaks both Latin and Welsh and he seems to command the respect of the men.
The carpenters have raised a fine timber building and all five of we magi have moved in. With the arrival of Clementis, our conventus is complete. We drew up a pactum and held a signing and dedication ceremony on Midsummer's Eve. I would have liked to have a Quaesitor present as witness, but when I suggested this, the Welsh magi laughed and said they had never seen a Quaesitor and wouldn't know where to look for one.
It seems the political affairs of this Tribunal- if it is even worthy of the name- are in serious disarray. The Tribunal convened two years ago at the covenant of Cad Gadu, but that was the first meeting in threescore years, and even so word of the Tribunal arrived too late for most covenants to send delegates. Many of the Stonehenge magi do not even belong to covenants, but dwell alone in cottages like hermits. Eirian tells me that the strongest covenant in the Tribunal is Blackthorn, in the south of Wales, and that it is mighty indeed. I wanted to travel to Blackthorn as an emissary to establish good relations, but Eirian and the Welsh wizards discouraged this, saying that Blackthorn would not welcome a visit. Perhaps later; there is so much work to do here.
I grow concerned that we borrowed so much silver for the founding of our covenant. However, nearby the covenant is an old silver mine. It must be long abandoned, for Eirian says the locals have no memory of it. Clementis believes that even if mundanes could find no more silver in the mine, we with our spells will be able to find lodes they overlooked. We will need some form of income shortly, for our loans did not last nearly as long as I hoped. A large portion of our vis must go to repaying our debts and I fervently hope we will need to borrow no more.
As to the matter of vis, it seems to be quite abundant here. Bynach Gam has found that the mist, superstitiously called the Dragon's Breath by the Welshmen, is infused with the essence of Vim. It should be easy to extract several pawn's worth every season. Cygnar and Eirian have explored the surrounding forest and brought back more. This whole countryside is steeped in magic. I wonder that magi did not settle here decades ago.
Construction is finished. We have a big, fine house for the magi and several smaller buildings for the grogs. Our turb consists of ten fighting men, two for each magus; plus a score of bodyservants and menials. We have a herd of cattle that give milk rich in cream. There is time now to turn our minds to matters of magic.
We gathered together our store of books to found the covenant library. [Colaire then describes in detail which magi provided which books and spells- this is recorded on the library page].
This poor country lacks the skilled artisans and rich markets needed to properly supply our covenant's laboratories. We will have to send a magus to distant markets to obtain vital supplies. This is a costly and hazardous enterprise I would have sought to avoid, but it seems it cannot be helped. The Council voted to give three-fourths of our remaining silver to Clementis so he could travel to England and purchase supplies at the trade fair of Northampton.
Our depleted coffers made finding a source of income imperative. There is good fishing in the sea just a few miles away, but have no boats and, in any event, the mundanes jealously guard their fishing rights. Our herd of cattle produces only enough for our own needs- certainly not enough to support the vast expense of our magical studies. I have written to our benefactors in the Normandy Tribunal, asking for more money, but none has been forthcoming. The likeliest source of income appears to be the silver mine.
The Council chose me to lead an exploratory party into the mine. I took a handful of grogs with me on the third day of Scorpio to learn whether any silver can be eked from its long-abandoned tunnels. We found the mine to be a place of great peril. Its cramped, winding tunnels are haunted by the ghosts of miners who died in accidents centuries ago, and by other spirits or faeries which my Second Sight could perceive, but of which I have never seen the like.
The mine consists of a deep central shaft and three or more levels of tunnels. It must have been worked for many generations, for the tunnels extend for miles. The air, in places, is stale and stifling, and the smoke of our torches fouled what little breathable air remained with smoke. After a short while, we extinguished the torches and proceeded with magical light.
The uppermost level of the mine was the only place we were able to explore in detail. It has tunnels high enough for a man to walk through if he stoops. These tunnels were once well-shored with stout timbers, but the timbers are long since rotted and the ceilings are periously weak. By sheer luck we were not killed in a cave-in, but falling rocks large and small struck all of us, and I am sure one of the men would have been slain had he not been wearing his steel helmet.
Our explorations were hampered at every turn by ghosts, whose phantom picks made an incessant tapping that unnerved the men greatly. I warned them not to follow the sound, and we did our best to ignore it. A few times the ghosts took on visible shapes, and this so frightened the men that one of them panicked and fled into the darkness, where he fell to his death down a deep shaft.
We also encountered spirits or faeries like small, misshapen men, naked and hairy, who glamored themselves invisible and scampered around us to work mischief. This is the reason we explored no deeper than the first level, for when we tried to descend the shaft, they worried our climbing rope with their sharp teeth. I drove them away, but the men were so distraught from facing so many unseen hazards that I deemed it best to return the expedition to the surface.
Neither I nor any of the men were able to find any silver ore on our first expedition. We lack a miner's skills. There are spells known to the Order that may assist us in finding silver and in overcoming the hazards of the mine. I hope the findings of my expedition will make our next excursion into the mine more successful.
In the Summer, I wondered why magi did not settle in this area long ago. Now I know. Wales is a country of the cruelest and most bitter winters ever inflicted on men. My hand shakes as I write from the cold draughts that seep around the shutters and through the smoke-hole in the ceiling. Worse, our roof leaks because Bynach Gam summoned an air elemental that escaped his control and burst out through the thatch of the roof. The grogs patched the roof as best they could, but there is still melted snow dripping into my laboratory and down the collar of my robe. Wales is a squalid and miserable land. Were it not for the powerful magical aura of this place, I would curse the impulse that brought me here.
At least there is food in plenty. The Welshmen are skilled hunters and the forest teems with game. Every day we feast on venison or wild boar. We traded some butter and deerskins to a nearby monestary for barley and hops, and have begun brewing ale in the cellar.
Clementis has returned from England, having gotten a good price on many sheets of vellum, plus quicksilver, sulfur, and other essential ingedients. We are busying ourselves with outfitting our laboratories and beginning our first researches in our new home.
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