The Northern Kingdom.
In the dark of night, a raucous celebration was taking place inside a large tavern filled with a hundred jubilant men and a few women. Each man had a mug of wine and a plate of meat as they formed groups of ten around their tables, celebrating their victory in the revolution.
The night sky was alive with an endless sea of stars, each one sparkling like a diamond in the firmament.
Yet, the tavern erupted in a cacophony of cheers and clinking mugs, the air thick with the smell of roasted meat and the warmth of victory.
A burly man with a thick beard, his eyes twinkling with mirth, raised his mug high and bellowed, "To the freedom we've won and to the friends we've lost! May their spirits live on in our victory!"
"To freedom and fallen comrades!" another echoed but was a young insurgent, his voice rough with emotion and drunk.
