The Curtain Slowly Rises

South of the Anfur Mountains, the autumn wind the locals called Ankaral brushed across the vast white plain. Waves of varying depths rolled across it like blades, the low hills rising and falling like waves upon a boundless sea. A young lionkin rider mounted on a golden male lion stood proudly atop the surging "waves," gazing toward the glittering horizon to the north.

The lion beneath him wore splendid armor, with beautiful pendants hanging from its mane. Standing amid shoulder-high white withered grass, it occasionally tossed its massive head and sneezed softly. The white wilderness was Toquenin's symbol and the source of the name Sacred White Plains. The plain stretched from the Silver Sand Coast in the west to the borders of the human kingdoms in the east. To the north, beneath endless mountains, lay the powerful empire called Cruz.

The young lionkin stared intently in that direction.

"Nair, we should go back. That's the limit of today's patrol range. If you go any farther, I can't take responsibility." Behind the hill, another lionkin stood beside his mount and called to the youth atop it.

Without turning, the young lionkin replied, "It's fine. Tomorrow, we'll cross that point." His emerald eyes shone with certainty. Even by human standards, he was an exceptionally handsome lionkin, with a golden mane like tassels, a well-proportioned build, and smooth, flowing muscle despite being stronger than most humans. His upper body was bare, save for heavy pauldrons on his right shoulder and arm and a necklace made of beast teeth.

The lionkin below could not see the view beyond the hill, but he knew a magnificent fortress had once stood there, built from pure white stone brought in from the plain. Now, only scattered rubble amid the grass proved it had ever existed.

"Nair, the