The history of Wayrest has kept tavern bards across Tamriel well fed and wetted for generations. Once but a trifling fishing village sitting atop the mouth of the Bjoulsae River, now the grandiose capitol of all Breton lands, and the heart of Emeric’s Covenant.
Wayrest is a city of echoes. As you ride through her imposing gates you perceive the weight of that history in her stoic walls, her every street is an interpretation of this age, and her every building is a story set in stone. She is a city that rouses the ambitious for good and ill; hated by Ranser, coveted by the Black Drake, envied by Daggerfall, mistrusted by Orsinium. She is a flirtation that haunts the hearts of all who see her grim beauty.
The Summerset Elves say that Breton architecture is all alike, as if there were only one architect in all Stormhaven who had a very singular obsession. But unlike the high elves, Breton’s appreciate that buildings should serve people, not the other way around. Societies raise their highest monuments to what their people value the most; thus it is that the Wayrest skyline is dominated by the treasury, temple, and castle.
But a great city is not gauged by its broadness, or the height of its minarets. What makes a city great is its people, as flawed and fickle and uncertain as they may be. Wayrest is a city of merchant and maker, of traveller and adventurer, of diplomat and soldier, of artist and bard, of blacksmith and tailor, of alchemist and apothecary, of brewer and baker and of noble and scullion. It is a city of Bretons; yet also of Orcs, of Redguard, of Elves, of Cyrodiilics, of Nord, and of Beastmen. It is a city of all Tamriel, and within it all may find brotherhood, and a sense of our dependence, one upon another.