There was a town, situated on a hill towards the eastern end of the continent, that still bore the mark of Rosinder. Unlike the rest of the continent, the people's backs did not carry the weight of Renovatio's whips, and they had a bounce to their steps that only freedom could give. This town was like any agricultural village; miles upon miles of farmland, and barns whose majesty surpassed those of the occasional tiny, quaint houses on the corner of the streets. Early in the morning, the people would rise and call friendly greetings out to their neighbors, then cluster together to share with each other their daily news. It was in this way that rumors passed from one end of town to another like a tidal wave, for where there are people, there is gossip.

Some days, the people would gather and whisper of the tyrants looming over their head. They spoke of war, and kinship, and freedom, with eyes blazing and hands on their swords. These people were not satisfied with just freedom; they wanted to free their fellows and burn down the Renovatio empire. Whenever they heard of another round of abuse dealt to their brothers, they would surge up, spirits inflamed and voices bellowing in anguish into the night. But they had their wife and children to think of, so they laid down their weapons and continued tilling the soil.

Today, they spoke of hope. News reached them from afar that there was an army on the other side of the continent fighting to overthrow Renovatio. They wondered if these men, lion-hearted and steel-souled warriors, would join forces with their own defenders: the R.E.D. So they whispered in hushed voices, while more and more people chimed in with news that held a mixture of truth and falsehood, lies and deception.