Rain. Dark skies and muddy roads made movement even harder on soldiers, and even being mounted on a horse didn?t help much. As their company marched through the much, Eyral moved his horse aside to wait for his liege lord, Duke Harnslow. This Duke was the son of another under whom Eyral had served, and no exception to the family; tall, dark, and bearded, this Duke had to carve his lands from the bandits that claimed them at the moment. Soon, the company was passing through a small burned-out village, another sign of the times. Wreckage from a fierce battle lay everywhere, and dead bodies were already starting to foul the air with their stench. While Duke ordered a detachment to clear the rubble and bury the corpses, Eyral came down from his horse for a better look.

It was about as bad as he expected. This village would not be inhabitable without much work, but that was no surprise. Suddenly, Eyral heard a small wailing, almost lost in the noise the soldiers made in clearing up. He looked around, and noticed a tiny cradle, almost buried in the rubble. Stepping to it, he saw an infant lying in the cradle, crying softly. Not fully believing his eyes, Eyral carefully took the cradle and the infant from the rubble, and walked back to the road. Looking closer, he noticed the baby was a boy. Pushing his way to his liege lord, he adressed the Duke:

- My lord! Look what I have found in the ruins! A live infant!

Duke turned around, and looked in surprise.

? Eyral! Aye, it is a living babe! But how had it survived the sack of the village?

- My guess is that the beam that half covered it in rubble saved it from prying eyes and fire. See, it is a boy, and no more then a month old. Now, whatever shall we do with it?

Duke sighed, and waved his hand around.

- Eyral, old friend, have a look around! There is not a hospitable house for leagues around. If we leave this child, it will surely perish. No, that would be far too unjust. Hmmmm.....

Duke then stopped, scratching his beard in thought, while Eyral coddled the infant. The boy had stopped crying some time before, and was now watching Eyral?s face intently. Apparently having made up his mind, the Duke spoke to Eyral:

- It seems the young boy agrees with you, Eyral. Since we cannot afford to leave the child, nor can we send it somewhere else, I think you should best care for him. It is now yours to name, for you are to be his guardian.

Eyral seemed somewhat distracted as he answered:

- Ah, thank you, lord, I believe that will be fine, just fine. As for the name, as he appears a strong, healthy boy, he should bear a strong, proud name. Alfred will he be, that is his name henceforth!

And Eyral held the boy up, and showed him to the surrounding men, while Duke only grunted, then yelled out:

- Move you sluggards! We must have the road clear afore dusk! Time is a-wasting!

As soldiers passed by, they threw swift looks, some even stared, in seeing the usually sober, taciturn sage fascinated by a small, ruddy infant. But Eyral paid them no heed, and kept his eyes on the boy.

And thus it was, that Eyral the sage welcomed a young infant in his care. As for the campaign against the bandits, it went well, and before the year was out, the young Duke was firmly in control of his father?s lands. Time passed, as time will, with surprising swiftness...