An Uneasy Peace

An uneasy peace governs the Fen, some say – as if we had a choice. The Corrupted continue to infest the marsh, and grow bolder by the day. We hack at them like stubborn roots, and for what? They will soon outnumber us – and then harvest us as we harvest the Fen. What use is a trading company, or any company at all, if we cannot protect ourselves and those in our charge? Yet still we go about our shallow business – we fish, trade oil and linen from our stores, a clockwork life while a hammer waits to fall on us. The glorious “Weaver's Fen Company” indeed! Fish scales and fish guts shall be a poor shield against the evils of this isle.