Just as humans gradually decompose, so too countries inevitably crumble.
Even the capital that flourished for a thousand years is now decaying into a living hell.
Evil spirits in the form of humans infest the whole place like they own it.
Such evil that goes unpunished by god is disposed of in the shadows.
We all make our living... by killing!
Imperial Year 1024 - Northern region
There once was a forest covered in thick layers of snow, the trees' branches and lichen was frosted and the animals that called this place home were nowhere to be seen except for the occasional foxes and birds that may roam the winter's floor. Hints of fog appeared between the trees as wind whistled through the paths, the sounds of whistling making the scene feel more harsh. The main obstacle to traverse was that there was a blizzard. It was obvious why such a snowstorm was present as the temperatures reached zero at most.
Amidst, the hostile snowstorm was a hooded figure, adorned in a coat crafted by the tailors of his village and a heavy rucksack on his back, his face fatigued as he trekked his way through the snowy forest. His footsteps were determined yet felt laborious, his face tired and fatigued but hopeful at the same time. The more he traversed, the slower he got but his determination pulled him further. Cold mist exhales out of his mouth.
'Where are you?'
Gritting his teeth, the hooded figure started to mutter to himself as he continuously tried to call out, 'Why does it that my village has to suffer and that my friends cannot be found?' The weight of exhaustion stopped him from moving forward. Luckily for him, he was able to reach refuge on a cosy frozen log and lay next to it with the help of a blanket and his rucksack to combat the cold. However his throat felt sore and he started to cough and cough. The more he coughed, the more painful it became. It was obvious that something was wrong. Soon, he felt a cough that was "heavy", his hand placed to conceal the coughs and his mouth. He released a cough and took his hand away, something caught his eye - a stain of crimson on his leather glove. The blood was a result, a reminder of the harsh conditions that he had to go through.
'Tatsumi, can I be reunited with Sayo and Ieyasu.. even for five minutes?'
His desperation was high. All he wanted to do was to fund his humble poor village in the countryside of the region and now the friends that he worked with to achieve their goal had unintentionally separated from him, making his life harder. 'My family, my friends, my village... I can't betray them. I promise that I will return…' His brown hair laid and green eyes twitched. In no time, eyes closed into darkness. In the midst of the unforgiving night, Tatsumi felt the consequences of the blizzard, yet he felt that he could save his village and reunite with his friends again. This is what a corrupt empire can affect, not only the people in the capital but also outside of it.