Eight months had passed since the Voghondai crossed the sea and planted their banners on the royal lands gifted to them by the Prince of Yarzat, leaving behind the rugged hills that had cradled their ancestors for generations.
The decision had not come lightly. It had stirred fierce debates by many firesides. Yet, ask any among those who had boarded the royal fleet, their homes and hopes packed into worn leather sacks, and they would agree on one thing without hesitation — life had improved beyond their wildest dreams.
The new lands seemed kissed by the spirits. At first, the soil appeared no different from the fields of stone and thorns they had left behind, but patience rewarded them.
