Founding Post for Tariglaive
Looking out over the growing city of Tariglave, Archon Markos Barca sipped his wine. He was told it came from Elvhenam. Good vintage, if a bit bitter. The city had grown over his careful watch. And he was proud. Stacks of parchment cluttered his desk. Trade agreements, new tariff proposals, a request to hire mercenaries for better security of cargo. Everything was growing and now, nations were recognizing them as a power. They were small, only one city, but all nations started out small. Even if they won't admit it. His secretary knocked lightly on the door and let herself in. "The Assembly meeting is about to start," she said. Markos gathered his parchment and nodded to her.
The Assembly was the driving political force behind Tariglaive. It was a place of deliberation. A place where proposals were considered and decided. "Good afternoon everyone," Markos said as he entered, " I hope everyone is well after their travels?" A few nods and some grumbles, but the meeting carried on regardless. "I came to address the Assembly directly. Today we are marking the founding of our new nation. A city of progress and gold. A city that will stand tall in the face of opposition. A city that will lay its mark in the annuals of history as a city build on gold and one that will never tarnish. We have come a long way gentlemen. And as Archon, I am proud to lead this city to a better future."
A chuckle was heard from the Assembly. "Question, were you planning on ever giving that speech to the people of our city?" asked one of the Assembly men. Markos smiled, " I thought I would try it out on you and see what reaction I would get. Looks like I'll be needing to improve it."
That night, the Republic of Targlaive celebrated its founding. A city built on gold and will never tarnish. It was the dream. But a dream it was. For true gold is hard to come by, and tarnish has already set itself into the city itself.