Place
Lastford Border Keep
The last garrison before the Ash Marches. Grain, iron, salt and silver still pass its gate; the crown's protection no longer does.
Eight sung ballads and a novel in progress, from the last garrison on the Ash Marches — where the king's road ends and the law thins with every mile.
The Novel — in progress
Lastford Border Keep · Book One
The ballads are what the Marches remember. The novel is what actually happened — told by the engineer's daughter who arrived on the back of a wagon and never left.
“The country had grown bleak over the past two days. The green fields and wooded hills had given way to bare grey ridges and broken volcanic stone. Ash lay across the road and gathered in every hollow.” Chapter One
The Songbook
The Chronicle
Place
The last garrison before the Ash Marches. Grain, iron, salt and silver still pass its gate; the crown's protection no longer does.
Order
Those who hold the keep. They ride at dusk, they keep no graves, and they ring no bells. Their whole creed is two words long.
Person
Feared across the wastes as a legend, remembered inside the walls as a cost. Four of the ballads follow him; one buries him.
Person
An engineer's daughter, a midwife, a healer. Her hands will pull you back from death. They do not save you from what follows.
Join the Watch
One letter per song — the lyrics, the artwork, and what the chronicle says about it. Nothing else, and never your name to anyone else.
Intro
sparse, almost whispered
Keep your horse upon the road.
Keep your children near.
When the black watch rides at dusk,
the hunted ones are here.
Verse I
restrained, storytelling
They saw the wolf come through the dust,
his blood upon the rein.
Three riders rode out that morning.
Only one rider came.
Three riders fought as twelve might fight,
but numbers broke their line.
Two fell beneath the circling blades.
The wolf took steel three times.
Half-blind with blood, he pulled the reins,
to where the only towers stood.
Behind him came the hungry men,
who followed scent of blood.
Pre-chorus
tension rising
He gave them warning.
He gave them ground.
They watched him bleed.
They ran him down.
Chorus
broad, dark
They followed the wolf to the old black wall,
with victory in their eyes.
The gate stood open.
The watchman fell.
No battle horn replied.
They entered the watch seeking fame,
but arrows filled the sky.
The gate closed fast behind them.
They had found the place they'd die.
The bells never rang.
No graves were shown.
They entered Blackwatch —
no one came home.
Verse II
softer, intimate menace
A woman waited by the hearth,
her hands both warm and clean.
The wounded knew her gentleness.
The dying knew her keen.
Her beauty travelled farther
than the riders of the crown.
But those who mistook kindness
never lived to write it down.
Pre-chorus
quiet, deliberate
He was the story.
She was the shade.
He brought them to her.
She let them wade.
Bridge
nearly unaccompanied
He crossed the yard on failing knees,
his blood upon the stone.
She laid his head against her breast
and whispered —"You are home."
Final chorus
strongest section
They came through dust to the old black wall,
with silver in their eyes.
They found the wolf upon his knees
and thought the watch had died.
The bells never rang.
No graves were shown.
They entered her keeping —
no one came home.
Outro
music falls away
So keep your horse upon the road,
and leave the black walls be.The wolf is feared across the wastes —but fear the one
you do not see.
From the chronicle
One of the quieter songs of Lastford — a local ballad still heard in the keep's halls and the settlements nearby, but rarely carried beyond the border.
It tells of the Wolf as Lastford knew him: not the distant legend that later spread across the Marches, but the brutal reality left behind when the fighting ended. Beyond the walls, only the myth endured. Here, they remembered the cost.