Goldenbough Glade

Stretching along the northern banks of the Ambergleam River, Goldenbough Glade is not a forest in the traditional sense, but a long, winding spread of wooded pockets, meadows, and lightly forested hills. From its eastern rise to the western bend, the Glade runs parallel to the river for nearly 600 kilometers, forming a living ribbon between water and plain.   At its heart stands the great city of Gildenquay, where river trade, stone roads, and woodland trails meet. Around it, small settlements and hamlets are scattered like stepping stones, nestled between stands of birch, maple, and—further north—rising groves of pine. The forest here does not dominate the land, but weaves through it, threading between farmland and road, shaping the landscape rather than overtaking it.   Goldenbough Glade takes its name from the warm gold hue of its foliage in autumn, a sight that draws poets, painters, and pilgrims each year to Gildenquay’s outskirts. But even in other seasons, the forest carries a bright, open character. The underbrush is sparse, the canopy light, and the paths—some centuries old—remain well-used by hunters, traders, and travelers moving between villages.   Though it lacks the dense mystery of deeper woods, Goldenbough still offers moments of quiet magic: deer grazing by the river at dawn, hawks circling over distant fields, and forest bells chiming gently in roadside shrines. It is a forest that lives comfortably with civilization—not resisting it, but breathing alongside it.   And while most see the glade as merely a beautiful passage between more distant destinations, those who live along its edges know it as something more: a quiet constant, a place that has grown up with them, sheltering fields, softening winds, and holding onto a little wildness, just enough to remember.