The sun had just begun to dip beneath the horizon, casting long shadows across the stone walls of the grand city of Herion, capital of the unified human kingdom.
From the high windows of the magnificent palace, golden light filtered in, bathing the throne room in a somber glow.
Herios sat atop his throne of blackstone and silver, one leg crossed over the other, chin resting on a closed fist.
His eyes were distant, almost troubled.
Around him, his advisors and generals whispered to one another in tight circles, wary of breaking the heavy silence.
The door to the chamber burst open with a loud clang.
A young soldier — barely a man — stumbled in, armor scratched, dust clinging to his boots and cloak.
He fell to one knee and bowed his head deeply.
"Your Majesty!" he shouted, his voice hoarse from the long ride. "A dire report — the coalition of the free tribes has begun their assault!"
The room erupted with voices.
"What?!"
"They dare?!"
"Those traitorous snakes!"
