"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Luna," said the bald man who welcomed her into his modest yet dignified office.
He was the governor of the village—Tord, a man responsible for the lives of hundreds—whose lands technically fell under *lAethernox's jurisdiction despite being so close to another nation's border.
A strange arrangement, one that made the village feel like a lone pebble caught between the territories of two giants.
It was, in essence, a border town.
Under ordinary circumstances, villages in such positions were always war-prone, cursed with the constant tension of waiting for armies to march over their fields.
But Aethernox and Emberclad were not enemies—never had been. They had their differences, disagreements that sparked debates and arguments in courts and councils, but never battles. Argon, the ruler of Emberclad, had never seen Aethernox as a threat.
And so, this village had survived without ever suffering the iron bite of warfare.
