When you first arrived on your land, the plains seemed to go on forever, and you were afraid.

Long roads. Such longs roads there were. And at the end of every one of them two more, and a weeping denizen to warn you away from either path. But its not as if you could simply stop moving.

They stretched on, branching and twisting and reconnecting and then branching off again. And at every crossroad a toll. And every toll a price. You never thought about how much a tear was worth until you got here.

There are no right paths, no easy ones. Nothing, you soon learn, in this game is ever painless.

But you’re older now(although if its counted in days or disasters you cant tell). And you know better. The roads are not so crooked. The curling script on the signs becomes clearer.

There are no easy paths, but that does not mean that some wont be more fruitful than others.