Upon the banks of the River Aver, gateway to the southern reaches, stands Averheim, amber-stoned capital of the wealthy province of Averland. Its buildings are hewn from a pale golden sandstone that catches the sun and sets the whole city aglow at dusk, a beauty that has earned it fame across the Empire of Man. Grown fat on cattle, gold, and the trade that flows through the mountain passes to the south, Averheim is among the richest cities of the Imperial heartland.
Yet its wealth is matched by its pride, and the Averlanders are a haughty folk, quick to boast and quicker to feud. The province has long been riven by the rivalry of its great noble houses, and more than once the death of a Count without clear heir has plunged Averland into bitter succession-struggles that bleed the treasury and set cousin against cousin while the true business of rule goes wanting.
Danger presses from beyond as well as within. To the south loom the Worlds Edge Mountains and the Black Fire Pass, that fateful gateway through which greenskin Waaaghs have poured since ancient days. Averheim's mustered halberdiers and famed pistoliers stand as the Empire's shield against invasion from the peaks, even as their lords squabble over titles and gold. So the golden city endures, radiant and rich and forever divided, a jewel that shines the brighter for the rot of feud that gnaws at its heart.