Harsel

"Tucked away in the wooded uplands of Stambry lies the walled village of Harsel. Surrounded by forests and jagged outcrops, Harsel is small by most standards, home to only some 750 souls. However, those born within its walls carry themselves with pride.   Harsel was founded some three centuries ago by a minor noble house: House von Harsel. Originally exiles from a larger city to the north, they carved out this perch atop the cliffs to secure their own dominion. The stone bridge that links Harsel to the rest of the world is narrow and defensible and reflects the village’s spirit: “hard to reach, harder to conquer.”   At the heart of the settlement lies Harsel Manor, a blocky structure once used for defense, but now more ceremonial in function. Around it spreads the old courtyard and blacksmith. Winding roads spill downward like ribbons, leading to Kliph’s Cliffside Tavern, the bustling general store, the church of Furnadan and dozens of tightly packed homes clinging to the hill’s curve.   Though small, Harsel has long punched above its weight in military matters. The village maintained a tradition of sending its brightest sons and daughters to serve as officers in the armies of Sovar, often out of necessity, since local prospects were slim. This military inclination shaped the village’s identity: disciplined, proud, and fiercely aware of social rank.   One such son of Harsel, born to a modest merchant family, rose rapidly through the ranks of the ducal army. His talent, charisma, and ruthless efficiency won him both admiration and enemies. He would one day return to Harsel not as a soldier, but as a self-styled Warden of the Forest, sweeping aside the old nobility and claiming the manor for his own. For a brief time, Harsel seemed poised to become something more, a center of reform, of new ideals, even an empire.   But greatness bred paranoia. Reforms gave way to decrees, allies turned to rivals, and the Warden’s enemies gathered at the fringes of the forest. The village did not fall, but it never grew beyond its means either. These days, older folk speak in wistful tones of what might have been, while the young grow restless under the long shadow of that unfinished legacy.   Harsel remains perched above the trees, dreaming of a glory just out of reach, its people proud, clever, and ever aware that greatness can rise from the smallest of places, but may also vanish just as quickly."   D. Harewood, Fendalian Cartographer