Outside the city, the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues across the battered land.
A large wooden carriage trundled slowly along a worn path, its wheels creaking under the weight of the injured soldiers and war victims inside.
Around it rode several medical officers and assistants, hurrying to transport their charges to a secure treatment facility far from the scars of the recent battlefield.
Inside the carriage, groans of pain and hushed murmurs of reassurance filled the air. Bandaged limbs, fevered brows, and pale faces marked the toll of the long war.
Now that the fighting had ended, the doctors could finally give these survivors the attention they desperately needed.
Among the medics, however, tension brewed—not because of the patients, but because of the silent figure seated near the front of the carriage.
It was a puppet. Lifeless in appearance, clad in armor and robes, its blank eyes stared straight ahead.
