It's not only the tempered that need care, a fair few of our own were wounded on the Magna Glacies. If only we hadn't needed to defend the supply caravan, a lot more of us could've joined the front line.
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There are all sorts of theories flying about as to why Quintus would commit suicide. It's thrown the remnants of his legion into turmoil, to make no mention of the refugees formerly in his care.
Many of the Garlean refugees are refusing to be treated with magic. While I can sympathize with that to a degree, there is a limit to what we can do with basic medicines and bandages. At this rate, there'll be none left.
Gods be good... The situation grows more desperate with each passing moment. Please be careful out there!
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That tower must be full of the tempered... How will we ever treat them all?
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With that burning red sky hanging over us, many are saying we should run before it's too late. But where? And what of the tempered still in need of treatment?
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When the sky finally cleared, we knew at once that catastrophe threatening the star had been averted. Although our work here is far from over, we now have...hope. Hope for Garlemald. Hope for us all.
Closest Aetheryte: Camp Broken Glass
