The End has come for this world.​

In a dying world, a wizened emperor is soon to depart, in his death will be uncertainty.​

The empire he had saved from the brink of ruin is beginning to come apart at the seams. His death is the trigger, the fuse to the gunpowder, that the great men of his world have waited for. Plans set long before his fated death are already in motion, competing against one another to gain whatever it is. Influence, wealth, land. Or for some, to slake their thirst for slaughter. That is enough.

The ancient empire of the Elemeri, and the innumerable fiefdoms and vassal states forming the Holy See has sounded the horn call.​ Their armies muster beyond each other's prying eyes, waiting to wage war against one another once more. The fragile quiet that has lasted between them for nineteen years will soon die with its maker. The two great powers of the world are determined to secure their final victory over one another. Their lords and rulers hoping that they will at long last bring the thousand years of war to a close; the end justifies their means.

Their soldiers are legion, for they are many.​ From the cleric-knights of the Pontiff himself to the watchers of the western desert, to the sorcerers of the secretive dragon-school. For nearly a thousand years their tragedies have been played out by countless actors on this great, uncaring stage. From the lowliest levy to the greatest warrior-kings, their blood shall be spilt once more, for the fires of war threaten to engulf their world whole.

In these uncertain times, the bells of prayer ring ever louder, chants begging for the alms of a greater power cry out ever more painful, and rumours of impossible things spread ever faster.

For in a time of despair any thin strand of hope, is hope.

Those caught in the machinations that govern the reason of this world are many:​ for countless peoples make up the known world. From the descendants of the once-proud Northmen, with their ice-blue eyes and jet black hair. To the remnants of the once-mighty kings of the West, who now seal themselves from the outside world. To the many countless others that make up the great world. Among them is a soldier and an old general, who struggles to keep their master's dying legacy intact. And a little lord, who seeks out the things buried and left forgotten.

But in such a world there are lidless eyes in the dark, whose gaze are fixed. For some things are left forgotten, for a reason.​