The lack of rain over the last three years had left the land looking parched. The trees had shed their leaves in order to conserve what little water they could glean from the dry soil and the yellow-green grass crackled underfoot when walked upon. Much of the bird and animal life had moved on in order to find more productive pickings.

In the midst of this dry country, where the Kings Road met the Northern Way, stood the small farming community of Thistledowne. This simple town existed as a resting place for weary travellers, the only reason the town had survived the drought for as long as it had. Thistledowne boasted a small inn, a blacksmith, a little church and, at its centre, the now grassless village green. The people of Thistledowne lived in basic wooden houses topped with thatched roofs, working small farms on the land around the town. The biggest event that had ever happened in Thistledowne occurred in the previous spring when King Leopold and his entourage passed through on their way to more important places. The town had suffered through drought before knowing that the rains would come eventually, but if they did not come soon the growing season would be missed again, and next winter would be difficult.