Dawn broke over the plains, soft mist drifting like a dream. The sun was just rising when the soldiers of a small frontier fortress spotted a caravan approaching from the Smart Empire. Laughter and cheer spread across the battlements—today's taxes would be easy coin, perhaps even wine.
But the wagons halted a mile away.
A heartbeat later, lightning split the sky, striking the captain dead where he stood. Covers flew open, revealing armored knights mounting with terrifying speed. Foot soldiers rose into the air, conjuring spheres of blazing magic.
The first cavalry charge thundered through the open gates just as fireballs rained down. The fortress crumbled in an instant, its garrison butchered before they could raise their shields.
Grumman, a dreamer of empires, barely had time to look up. A black-robed magus hovered above, eyes cold, power burning in his hands. Then the lances struck from behind, and Grumman was gone—his dreams shattered with him.
By the time silence fell, the "caravan" was already reforming, marching at full speed toward the Vantian Empire's famed Iron-Blood War Citadel.
The treaty of peace had lasted barely half a year.
The war had begun.