"It happened nearly two years ago," Darnel began, setting down his spoon with the slow, deliberate weight of memory. "My village isn't anywhere near the capital—it's way out west, near the coast."
Merza blinked, surprised. "That's quite the distance, isn't it?"
Darnel nodded with a faint smile. "Took me nearly a week and a half on foot to get here. Blisters, rain, sore legs... the whole heroic journey."
Merza chuckled lightly, but the mood quickly shifted as Darnel's voice dropped into something graver.
"With the fall of the Isle of Harmway, pirates flooded the Sea like flies to a carcass. The coastal villages—especially the fishing ones like mine—became easy prey. Ships full of hungry men with no lords, no law, and too many swords."
Merza's fingers tightened slightly around his bowl. He could already sense where the tale was heading.
