Along the southern coast of Hillsbrad, the surrounding villages had already extinguished their candles. The fishermen had worked all day. Though it was difficult to catch anything at sea in winter, the people here still hoped to earn as many extra copper coins as possible before the war began. The Alliance had told them the next month would remain peaceful, and they believed it.
The sea wind battered the windows as usual, waking a fisherman. Though he was accustomed to the sound of the windowsill being struck, he felt unsettled today. Perhaps it was because he was about to leave these waters. He had already decided what he would do afterward: open a tailor shop in Stratholme, enough to keep himself alive. The fisherman's name was Barthuro Gissetti. He had lived here for decades, and the tides were like blood in his veins. When he heard that the Horde's forces had come here and that he and his friends would have to leave the homeland they relied upon for survival, he had been furious. But he knew this was war.
"Can't this damned sea wind calm down? At least let me get a good night's sleep before I leave." Gissetti stepped out of his room and went to a small shed behind the house. He lit a candle and opened the wooden boards on the ground, revealing his private basement below. There was a bed for sleeping and a desk inside. The design of Gissetti's house had been inspired by Gilneas. Unlike the others, his was the only house in the entire village with another space beneath it.
"Finally, I can get a good night's sleep." Without the sound of sea wind battering the windows, Gissetti adjusted the soft pillow and lay down. "I hope the fog clears tomorrow and