From atop the dolmen outside Gartan's fortress of Cean Tir, I spot a stranger on a pony's back, nearing our gate. Though the gate is unguarded, the visitor obediently waits to be greeted. Our once glorious stronghold, I fear, has been left in quite a sorry state since our chieftain left us. Those of weaker faith use the word "abandon", but I am not one of them. Each morning I look to the West to greet the return of our lord, for I know it will happen soon. It must. Our luck against the men of Din Eidyn cannot hold for long.