The sleepy village of Kilkaen is one few troubadours mention in songs, and fewer have even thought to visit. Its thatched roof homes and shops live in the shadow of the fortress of Caer Carnelon and serves as the breadbasket to the garrison there. The area to the north is protected by steep mountain ranges, its east a shallow port and its east the forest of Treig. Even the trade road from the port to the south, a road full of caravans headed to the city of Rivershear, bypasses Kilkaen altogether.
“You send me any more fourth sons of indolent barons I’ll send them right back! I’m sure that the garrison here is a joke to you but I swore an oath to these stones and Brother Wolf will forgive me burning down the inn if anymore of these louts you send me abandon their post for Melas’ ale.”
Commander Saunders – Missive to the Upper Command
Durance 