Alistair Crowley sat on a regal chair in the capital city. His place on the vacant throne with a room filled with dozens of knights who have abandoned their old king. Despite Randolf's desperate resistance, he fell to Alistair and the cult's plot, with all lords falling to their knees in acceptance or their entire family and estate being destroyed.
Of the council of twelve lords, only two remained present. The rest either fell or defected to Alistair's side.
The council, once a beacon of power and unity, now stands fractured and weakened, a sad testament to Alistair's growing influence.
"Tell me, Bill Nelphim, why did you abandon your land and return to the capital?" Alistair's deep voice echoed—beside his throne, a mysterious woman in a black robe and veil covering her face stood without moving.
