Wispy white hair clung to his scalp. Each breath was faint and long, as if it might cease at any moment.
Eighty-five years old.
In an age where plagues, famines, and wars were commonplace, and farmers often perished young from harsh winters or illness, living to such an age was a miracle in itself.
It was for this reason that when Old Allen had grown too old and his solitary farmhouse could no longer provide adequate care, Monte Castle made an exception and brought him into the fortress, placing him in this quiet tower room and assigning someone to look after him.
In the eyes of many, this was more than just care for a man who had lived a long life.
Especially to the devout people of the territory and to visiting guests.
It was a symbol that the territory was blessed by God and of the Governor's benevolence.
A living "miracle" residing within the castle was, in itself, an auspicious sign and a silent testament.
