SPRING, 503
Ho, there lad! I just come from Tyrma where the ships are setting out again and the masts have been socketed. Trade resumes, but the city swarms with refugees. That’s right – foes from the south, Theraz goblins all gathering by Arvorienna and making a nuisance of themselves. The streets are clogged with ilmai farmers and freeholders who’ve been displaced by the knights of the king or the forces of the goblins.
They say the elves have ringed Arvorienna round and that the forces of the Alcosa are even now being called to repel the goblins and fight side-by-side with the free companies of the King. Mercenaries are drawn to the war like flies. Though garlands of flowers all white and blossoming bedeck the ancient stones of Tyrma, its streets are flooded with Brighthearts in red surcoats clamoring Talifer’s call to war. The free folk gather and groan, eating from the king’s own table and the banquets laid out for them by the temples.
The Talifernians, now… they’ve begun a resurgence in those parts. Once they were quite famous. The coast was dotted with shrines. But as time wore on, their order withdrew to the Mede of War. Not so any longer! The remains of Tyr Valaniera have been recovered from their age-old shrine and translated to Tyrma herself, where pilgrims now swamp the Talifernians. Their numbers grow day by day, and they shout of fielding free companies to fight under the king’s banner.
War stirs in these parts, friend. There’s money to be made, and glory to be had… if you can but reach out and take it.
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