Avalon itself was an island nation, and the Hall of Silver and Tin in the capital Glass Island was even built on an island within an island.
At the front end of Avalon Bridge leading to the Hall of Silver and Tin, an elderly Elf stood straight as an arrow, his skin like tree bark and his oil-green pupils wild as a wolf's, casting a figure in the winter night like a lone tree.
"I'll leave you here."
The old butler instructed the maid Lily, "Take good care of Mr. Aiwass."
"Yes, Mr. Oswald."
Lily responded respectfully.
Under the old butler's watchful eye, she pushed Mr. Aiwass's wheelchair onto the bridge.
The sun set early in the early winter. The deep blue night sky hadn't yet turned pitch black, and the sapphire-like lake shimmered with exceptional beauty under the streetlights on both sides of the bridge.
The tall White Griffons, like stone lions, would silently settle on the stone platforms on both sides of the streetlights as night fell.
