Jean de la Fac paused on the cobbled path to his door, turning to take in his estates. Overgrown, to be sure. The war had taken so much - time, to be sure; but also the lives of some of those who had followed him, like his groundskeeper Guillaume; the surplus of goats that had once grazed his gardens; the surety of his faith. Warm light lapped at him from the lantern hanging by the door. Cool air drifted up off the Pantac, slipping through his maile. Yes, the war had taken so much. But