Votradnoi, a great city of nearly three hundred thousand people, was the capital of Bagnia. Even the transition from a kingdom to a republic had done nothing to change its political and economic standing.
The reason was simple. The Kingdom Plain, where it stood, was the only stretch of flat land in the mountainous country of Bagnia. Its fertile soil and abundant water made it ideal for agriculture.
Moreover, Votradnoi stood at a major crossroads connecting Bagnia's important regions, making both trade and travel exceptionally convenient.
At the center of the city stood an ancient castle, once the king's residence and now the seat of the Republic's government.
The castle's tall towers gleamed in the sunlight, as though telling of the city's long history and enduring glory. In the streets, merchants pushed carts laden with goods, their cries rising one after another.
Artisans bustled about their shops, the clang of hammers striking metal ringing without pause, while nobles in fine clothes chatted leisurely in cafés, enjoying the afternoon sun.
But that was the past, the prosperity of last year. This year, Votradnoi was like fallen leaves after autumn, stripped of its former life and vigor.
Tens of thousands of farmers who had lost their land poured into the city, searching its streets and alleys for work and food.
Yet jobs were pitifully scarce. Factories went bankrupt, shops closed, and even the merchant associations' once-busy freight warehouses fell quiet.
The farmers arrived full of hope, only to wander the streets and alleys with bewilderment and helplessness in their eyes.
All of this was because of the war, but not entirely because of it.
Captain Bock trudged through the streets of Votradnoi with a saber at his side. His uniform was worn, still stained with blood and mud from the battlefield.
He