The Frontier isn't solely comprised of predators twisted by arcane forces and untamed natural hazards. Along its eastern borders, a belt of fertile grasslands circumscribe its more dangerous biomes. The west-bound settlement of Constonians gravitates towards these cultivatable lands, with tight-knit communities of farmers and ranchers establishing fields and pastures that they are free to run without the burden of state oversight. Cattle roam free, mingling with the native bison, and year-round the shores and depths of Great Lake Gaston yield fish in bountiful quantities.

This natural abundance is not entirely without its dangers, of course. Thunder lizards from the southern bogs frequently range this far north, lured by the herds of livestock. From across the shores of the massive lake, the tribal warriors native to the land raid the enclaves of the eastern invaders. In the chaos of it all, bandits emerge from their mountain hideouts to loot the burnt remains of homesteads and intercept lone trade caravans.

The settlers and prospectors and traders and mercenaries thus learned long ago that safety is best found in numbers. What few proper towns exist in the Frontier are, by necessity, large and well-defended by militias of mercenaries, with assistance rarely (if ever) coming from the mother country.