“It was simple before. When the enemy sent a hundred soldiers, you’d fear not to send two hundred, knowing victory was sealed. Now, in these wars of the chosen, the enemy can send one, a single weaver, and your two hundred would be ants to flame.”
— Yelak Burima, NCY 58
Map of Iris
The Vilified
Us commoners always bow. Our ancestors once bowed to kings and emperors. Then they said we’d be freed by those chosen by the gods who claimed to make us equals. It’s always a lie. It’s been more than 800 years since the first weaver was born, yet our chains remain. Only those who hold them have been replaced.
The Lord Keeper shackles his Northfolk in fear. The Church of Akari claim Kilyan. Cicadia knows only the rule of wilting dukes, Medos the rule of greed, and Illgate the rule of madness.
Folk have come to my stalls saying our troubles have ended. They tell me our great wars have stopped. Fools. Our wars are only hidden now, those who truly fight them having no name known to you and me. It’s their tales I want to hear. If I’m to bow to someone, let me know their story.
— Amhris Aelmaeda, Toshian Spice Trader