The King and Queen barely move for much of the year, nor do they often speak. Their will is the will of the forest, their programmes art the seasons and their laws - the laws of nature. Tis a thing unique unto this world: supernal beings that ruleth over mortals. In Wyscan’s heart does there lie some fey source of th’eternal power of the Realm Beyond; the which sustaineth them while they art near. And yet sometimes they depart: the King on great hunts, to claim his trophies mighty, and the Queen to tend unto her gardens of the world. Thereafter, they are lost upon the Veil - returning again, it is hoped, when they are summoned.
Not knowing well good the sophistication of the civilised, nor the learnings of th’enlightened, the Trewi doth content themselves with these uncouth, yet potent rulers. Their concerns hark unto a simpler time, when all were primitive and savage. Their greatest foes art those fallen under the Gods of Darkness; in equal measure do they loathe and spurn the saurian disciples of order pure. The Trewi carrieth the deepest memories of the Dawn, the oldest songs of our kin, half-glimpsed knowledge more ancient even than that of the masters of Canrac Tower. Oh great pity: their simpleton minds can fathom not how to use it.