Under The Nagareth Banner
The city of Vellore still smelled like smoke. The rain that came at night washed away the ash from the rooftops. Vellore still had that smell. It was, in the wind a mix of burnt stone and metal. It reminded people of what happened. Vellore had a lot of memories and the smell of smoke brought them back.
Once, it had been the pride of the southern realm, the heart of trade, knowledge, and art. Now it was quieter—reborn, but scarred.
Nagareth.
