The Turbulent Kingdom

The sky was overcast, and restless winds blew in from the plains, sweeping the lingering chill into the city. Beneath the dim daylight, Count Pompey stood on the terrace of his family castle, his mood even gloomier than the sky.

More and more rumors were spreading between the city and the countryside, and their contents were particularly unsettling. Some said a terrible plague had broken out around Giantwood Pass. Others said the Kingdom Army had suffered a crushing defeat, with important cities and strongholds falling one after another. All kinds of conflicting reports flew about, and even nobles like the count could obtain no accurate intelligence from the north—and that was the most disturbing part.

The castle terrace offered a broad view over the entire city and the vast plains beyond it. Count Pompey, slightly stout, wore a thick warm coat and leaned on a cane as he gazed into the distance through the cold wind. His eyes first swept across the hills and woods to the north—not long ago, a peculiar force from Stone Fortress had passed along the edge of his territory on its way north. Led by an Elf Ranger, they rode strange magic vehicles and carried odd equipment. They had not explained their mission or destination, but they carried travel documents signed by Duke Gawain Cecil.

Count Pompey had not dared stop them.

Yet from the force's disciplined conduct and direction of travel, the count could easily guess that their operation might have been connected to the recent changes in the situation in the north.

His gaze traveled over the hills and plains until the shimmering Dorgon River entered his view, followed by the distant mountain ranges and the hazy Stone Fortress between them. That towering fortress remained shrouded in a misty Magic Shield, with mountains