Vallaris

Grey Plains and Open Water

The Ashen Plains run south until they stop at the ocean, and Vallaris stands on that last pale stretch of wind-scoured ground. Raised in the first wave of expansion that followed the original foundations, it grew substantial without ever pretending to be anything but a fighting town. Its trade is defence: barracks and drill yards, armouries, granaries sized for a siege rather than a season, wagon parks, quartermasters counting sailcloth and salt meat against a campaign that may never come. The coast gives it a landing and a horizon to watch; the plain gives it sightlines every other way, which for a garrison is worth more than good soil.

Two Peoples, One Name

Lohanar and Suvanar share these walls, the one inclined to written accord and the other to hearth-fire sorcery, and after enough generations the distinction weighs less than the name they hold in common. A Vallarite is a Vallarite. The city answers to no distant capital: it is the seat of its own allegiance, and stands within the wider bloc of Mareva. Faith here is the Ruby, and of her six aspects it is the Firewife who is served, war's own face, kept by priestesses at plain round fire-circles whose blessing goes out with every company that marches.