In the chambers of the Black Raven King, a man stood in front of a full-length mirror wearing armor that looked like it had been through a lot of battles.
Multiple holes could be seen all over his body where the material of the armor had had no choice but to give way to the piercing blows it had had to endure.
Blood could still be seen on the edges of these holes, as if it had been soaked in so much of it that some had seeped into its very being.
In a way, it represented the tenacity of the warrior who had worn it and continued fighting no matter how many injuries he had endured.
That was how the Black Raven King saw himself in the mirror: bruised, battered and bloody; but holding his head high because he had snatched victory by doing everything he could.
Sadly, the image only lasted for a few seconds before being replaced by reality.
In the warrior's place stood a man who spent all his day cooped up in the Kingdom, handling various matters while fearing about the future.
