A fine road it was, one they believed would show their stature. In a house made fortified and rich upon the foundations of a humble clan house.
So would they flaunt their wealth when they could, with the cutting of trees to make grass fields, not for beasts to feed but so they could wander uninterrupted in scythed plains of grass without spoiling their robes.
It was all by chance and would never last, their finery and jewels like that of kings with naught to ensure a coin would remain for the morrow so the thrill of spending today could continue.
The old dirt road beside the home had serviced generals so well, the footprints of those who first settled here would surely have been somewhere below.
But the carriage was heavy and showed higher station and dirt paths made uncomfortable rides. And from the front of that old house made new began an extravagant road finely paved.
But soon, as always occurs, the seasons changed for the newly made rich, and so many things would be sold.
The gold and the finery, the horses and fields, what remained would not be theirs for long.
But oh how they would enjoy while they could, the perfectly flat road which was paved. They took each in turns to pull on that carriage or sit there inside to enjoy the ride of their thirty yard road.
A prompt response.