A castle was perched alone atop a cliff, surrounded on all sides by tiny towns. It had been standing there for many centuries, heavily worn out from the times.
With some mismatched towers and asymmetrical designs, it had a fairly crude appearance. Even yet, it did not lessen the imposing impression it left.
But in contrast to its imposing exterior, it was completely empty inside.
In a large hall where large banners cascaded down the sides and a large throne sat at the far end, a meeting was taking place.
"...We've lost ground. The demons will reach the city within the next year."
The orc kneeled down on one foot.
"One year?"
A low, solemn voice filled the room.
"How long will our supplies last?"
"Five years. Supplies aren't a problem."
"...I see."
Silence descended on the room.
It was only after a while that the voice once again echoed.
"You may leave."
