Kiern Vale Handbook
Chapter 3: Life in Kiern Vale
Prologue | Climate and Calander
| Population | Languages | Food and Nutrition
| Attire | Trade and Money
Law and Order | Education | Travels
|
The
Mistweaver woman cursed, and tightened her grip on the reins as the mule
plunged his hooves deep into the murky puddle, splattering mud in all
directions. The
midsummer rains had arrived early, transforming the path before her into a
foggy quagmire that obscured the nearby village’s silhouette. The only hint
of the passage of time was a reddish hue on the fogbanks to the west.
Varliril cursed again, as her hopes to reach the village gates before
darkness fell died. The fogbanks momentarily cleared, revealing a glimpse of
distant crumbling towers on the edge of the valley.
Gloomy thoughts crept through her
mind, as she struggled to keep the mule on the now treacherous path.
Varliril, once a proud knight had been reduced to a lowly itinerant
weaponsmith. She never could have conceived, only a few decades ago, that
this is how she would spend a summer evening. No, her younger self could not
have imagined trudging over this Queen-of-Light forsaken, half-flooded,
half-abandoned trading route- she would instead have breathed in the scented
gentle breezes wafting over endless rose gardens in a blessed land now long
gone watching the sun set over magnificent flags fluttering high upon the
white towers, heedless of the cracks spreading through their foundations. The white towers had fallen,
consumed by the flames, along with so many good Mistweavers she had known and
loved. Here, in this desolate province
called “Kiern Vale”? She will be lucky to reach a shabby inn, full of ruddy,
quarrelsome humans. Her purse, once bursting with shining winged crowns of
the blessed kingdom of light, now held only a meager amount of the local
copper coin known as “Ban” among the locals, along with less than a dozen old
silver “Anorn” coins. Just enough to cover the local gate toll, secure a
modest inn room along with couple of meals more befitting a human peasant
palate then her own; And so it would remain until she managed to sell her
modest metal wares at the marketplace. A suspicious rustle among nearby
bushes caused her to tighten her lips and send a wary hand towards the hilt
of her blade. A wandering animal, or a highwayman? As if she lacked troubles… |
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Kiern Vale guide
Created and edited by Gideon Orbach (2017) ©
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