Albahn’s dwelling consists of a series of levitated rooms which hang from the boughs of the ever-sturdy oaks which litter the forest. Connected by a series of covered bridges of straight plank and rope are four rooms altogether: a sitting room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and another room needing description in more detail. This room serves as a storage for the vast amount of military supply and writings as well as detailed charts of every land between the outer reaches and the sea abyss, which Albahn has spent many years and many coppers accumulating. It is breathtaking, not only to see the huge collection, but to see Albahn move about it with such ease and familiarity; he can tell if one quill is only inches out of place from the previous day. And he is proud for the fact.
As Albahn and Tessal sit, appropriately, in the sitting room, mulling over some black beer, they discuss, as all do over any alcohol, philosophy. It is whilst discussing such a topic that Albahn shares:
“You know, I know the trees.”
Tessal, blankly, replies, “How so?”
“What I mean is, I communicate with them.”
The bard merely boggles at the knight.
“Look, I’ll show you.”
Albahn raises himself off of the green-cushioned easy chair he was flopped in and proceeds into the waning daylight. Tessal, still quite confused, obliges to follow. He descends the rope ladder to the floor of the forest, covered with Autumn’s leaves. Albahn is, much to the amusement of Tessal, hugging a tree.
“You see,” starts Albahn, coming away from his deciduous friend, “trees have vital characteristics. They breathe air, they absorb the sun’s rays, and they nourish themselves, much like you or me. So, it is no wonder, then, that trees have pleasures and,” adding a chuckle, “poisons, as well as a certain warmth to them.” Upon saying as such, he lays his hand on the bark, and closing his eyes, he bids, “Go ahead. Try to sense its warmth.”
Tessal approaches the tree, and thus placing his hand, shuts his eyes. He, in fact, feels a soft, gentle warmth different from the slight chill of the autumn twilight. Opening his eyes, Albahn’s smile greets him.
“It likes you.”
Tessal is a little taken aback. However, Albahn continues.
“If a tree likes you, then you will never fall from it. Watch.”
He proceeds to climb up the trunk of the tree sprightly, as a cat would. The next branch, at least five paces off the ground, is reached by Albahn as if it were at eye level. He leaps and bounds from limb to limb as if carried by some Majikal force.
“Now you should understand why my abode is so sturdy,” calls he between leaps. He is barely sixteen paces off the ground. He begins his descent. “When I arrived here, deciding to live here, I asked the trees which would like to support my house, which would like to become my walls, which would like to furnish my house, and so on. Thus, these rooms will never fall.”