The cult unwillingly acted out it's horrendous deeds out of deception, being victims themselves, fooled by a darker force lurking in the shadows. - Former Countess Clarice Syndrose

At home after a dutiful day and daydreaming about merry drinking in the tavern, I heard a knock and opened the door. A message including an invitation to a special association arrived, with a vague date and location which I am asked to visit: "During the second semester, find valor within Braveridge"

Aside from the scrolls was a book, more specifically a small diary describing a travelers life in the target region, with the introduction page suggesting the owner made one for this specific journey.

I tell you this from another moment, which comes to my memory of a region named D'Evainn Braveridge. Only a divinity would know if the first word has meaning, but the environmental name suggested courage, with a hint of adventure.

The rest of it describing his journey in a lowly detailed fashion, almost lacking on purpose.

Arriving at a more comfortable, but less challenging terrain than anticipated, I decided to settle early and inquire the surroundings. Going around and mingling with the villagers of Upper Arrowglen, I noticed they had a different spread of lore and were very selective in their choice of words, resulting with me finding out nothing interesting besides a regional tale of a past regent and defender of this county. Something that kept bothering me all the while moving around was the mummer, seemingly hinting to keep quiet with gestures and acts. When approaching and talking at the artist, who replied without a sound, I only ended up with more questions and suspicions.

Deciding to continue my journey at the break of dawn, I travel along a merchant escort to this regions capitol, hoping to find out more. On the way we pass a good amount of vineyards and orchards, always being worked by a busy bee. Further uphill the view becomes a vibrant mix of colors, "north you'll find Downcorner offering some fine, fresh produce. From the plucking on the field to the storing in a barrel, it's where the surroundings get their booze", the merchant explains to a curious escort who enjoyed stories about the liquid kind of spirits.

The hills peaked into a rocky chain, stained red by the morning sun, like flames engulfing the fortified city, which gave it the environmental name Felspyre. The merchant sighs as he looks first towards the distance, then upon the crimson peaks down towards the buildings, "was once known as Crossrose Head, the elderly say it was like a budding rose, the village blooming from being a crossroad, with the surrounding mountains as protective petals. A disaster made the peaks and the place change" he went on, telling more fragments of the locals tale as we reached the entrance to Felspyre.

At the entrance line for guards inspection, I confirm with the merchant the details about the tale. Most interesting were superstitions about curses and accidents befalling a beloved baroness, who came from a long line of defenders pledged to the realm, Valkin's Fall is how the locals summarize it. Before saying goodbyes after the entrance checkpoint, the merchant recommended to visit Montarm Arye in the south and see their library for more clues. Considering my options I stick to my routine and chatted with the townsfolk, who were talkative about themselves but vague when asked about local history, with no results I went to the tavern.

Luck struck as travelers acquainted with the region decided to explain the tale, in exchange for a couple of drinks ofcourse. The gist of it being about Valkin's Fall, beginning with the kin of Valonya and ultimately ending the entire Val'Korra dynasty, being caused by some unknown entities scheme, deceiving many of local fanatics and even their governing noble to work against their own protectors. Feeling dishonored made the noble pass their title on and go into exile, thus ending the dynasty of Clarice Syndrose in name, but not in blood. The deceived citizens learned from the collective mistake and took it upon themselves to perceive lies so they may know the truth, which explains why the people of the region have different speaking habits. "There's more to it, but to know the juicy stuff you'll have to prove your valor to the local association. I don't recommend it, unless you're willing to take unknown risks" one of them tells me as everyone left towards slumber.