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fog poured ominously over the mountains behind Castle of Monte
Gargano like a tsunami of vapor darkening the sky. It would burn away
tomorrow if only the heat from the day’s sun would show its might.
There were days when the sun seemed lazy and the fog would rest over
the farms, fields, and villages below like an oppressive, wet
blanket. As the late harvest approached, the humble farmers,
herdsmen, and villagers had prayed for the strength of the sun,
hoping they could produce an acceptable harvest. There had been so
much rain. The dark days facing all the Seven Kingdoms of the land
were heavy on the hearts of all the people of good conscience.
Benevolent leaders had been removed from seats of power, and pride
itself perched on the highest earthly throne. So it seemed that
nature, like an omniscient mirror on the wall, was crying out to God
for justice. But just what would the morning bring? That remained to