Chapter 1 - A Brewing Crisis
The king is dead.
It happened before anyone could react. Good King Sobik of House Stiedry, struck dead at forty-nine years. His reign was a troubled one.
Whether he deserved to go out in a carriage ambush is something you haven't yet decided. You have no love for the late king, your father, not since what he and your "mother" did to you. Not one tear fell from your eyes.
However, the past feels distant now as the wind whips across your face. Your mount struggles beneath you from the long and painful trip. You've ridden as fast as you could, ahead of the rest of the bodyguards, desperate to inform the royal family of the grim news.
Now, your journey is at an end. You and your mount bound up a final hill, quickly dodging a peasant's cart as you reach the top. Squinting from the bright, late-summer sun, you take in the great walled fortress city of Wrido, the capital of the crown.
It has been a long time since you last went on a forced march. The breakneck pace you set was painful but bearable. At least for you. Your poor mount, weighed down by you and your full kit stowed across its body, looks like it's at death's door.
As you inhale the hot summer air and feel the familiar ache of a body at march, a pang of nostalgia hits you.
It has truly been too long, you think.
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