The sun rose slowly over Grafen, casting a pale light over the fortified city. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, fear, and anticipation as the defenders stood ready at their posts. The Astellian army, a formidable force with banners fluttering in the morning breeze, assembled in the fields beyond the walls, preparing for their assault. Inside the inner castle, Count Havton lounged in his opulent chambers, surrounded by luxury and excess.
His ample form was draped in fine silks, and he clutched a goblet of wine in one hand. A handful of terrified slaves and maids stood by, ready to attend to his every whim. Havton's eyes were glazed with a mix of fear and intoxication, trying to drown out the sounds of preparation and war outside.
"More wine!" he bellowed, his voice slurred. A young maid, trembling, stepped forward to refill his goblet. Havton grabbed her wrist, his grip bruising her delicate skin. "You're lucky to be in my presence, girl. Remember that."
