In the days when Uloin ruled Dynkyr alone, the Dwenir learned the bitterness of natural death. Before that time our fathers lived until war or labor took them, but they did not perish of age or infirmity. After the Peace of Sinowar, this was no longer so. Long years passed without battle, and life, unharried, came at last to an appointed end.
In those days the Dwenir and the Besnir drew apart.
The Peace of Sinowar brought greater order among the Duns, but those who were not Stoneborn were set ever farther from the counsels of the Dwenir. The market at the gate of Dynkyr remained open, yet gone were the days when the Besnir might seek refuge behind the curtain; and gone also were the days when the Dwenir would have permitted it.
The years of war had taught our people the measure of privation. We learned that metal, no matter how precious nor how deeply piled, cannot sustain the body. From our kin of Neblodi we learned the doctrine of the five brothers: palefish, sweet root, skinwings, vampa and threadgrass. For the Stoneborn were resolved that they would never again lack for stores, even should their mints fail them utterly.
In that time the Deepwards became bastions.
No longer did our forebears build where the inevitabilities and temptations of war might reach. Instead they filled the mines and shafts once cut for gold and silver with halls, dwellings, and store-vaults set far beyond the grasp of siege or flame. By means of sun-wells and draftways, light and breath were brought downward, and life itself was drawn into the deep. Thus Dynkyr was turned inward, and the heart of the mountain became the shelter of our people.
More and more we left the plains and drew away, seeking places where strife could not readily follow. Yet upon the surface there were those who were not content to see us depart. The Terani, whom some call fairy, had grown in power during the years when the Regns withdrew, and they misread our silence as intent. Silk-clad lords came into our lands, demanding obeisance and seeking to compel our attendance at their courts, as though the Stoneborn were vassals to be summoned.
And from their inexhaustable pride a seed of bitterness was planted in our hearts. That bitterness endured long beyond the death of Uloin, who was the first Regn among us to taste natural death. After ten score years, his passing was mourned not as the fall of a warrior, but as the setting of a sun.
He was succeeded upon the throne by Haren the Regn.
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