A pair of rough hands carried a heavy sack of grain out of the depths of the granary and set it on a cart.
"All right, get moving!"
The grain officer hurried the convoy out to join the long line beyond the granary.
A priest who looked like an Ascetic stood by the roadside, scattering slips of paper damp with morning dew and blessing the Grain Wagons as they passed. "May the Goddess of Fortune grant you a smooth journey..."
With the gods in turmoil, the priests had suffered most. Cut off from their gods and their divine power, they had fallen from their lofty positions into ordinary life.
At the start of the Year of Turmoil, people had still treated priests with respect. But three years had passed... Children born back then were already running through the streets, and they had never known the gods' grace...
The old Order had crumbled. Upheaval swept countless religious kingdoms, holy wars broke out, and countless believers left home on ascetic journeys in search of their gods.
A few drops of dew landed on a sack of grain. The damp patches gradually faded.
The convoy crept along with the crowded line for a while, then turned onto a broad road patrolled by guards.
Their destination was the newly established Defense Line to the north, and the road there was bound to be dangerous.
Once they left Valley City, the landscape opened into wheat fields stretching to the horizon. A squad of soldiers joined them, saying orcs had been causing trouble to the north lately and they would escort the convoy there.
As they traveled beyond Lesao Valley, the surroundings quickly grew desolate. Wide plains gave way to Mountain forests that blocked their view on either side of the road.
The convoy jolted along