The battle was over, and the grand banquet hall lay in ruins. The elegant tapestries were shredded, the once pristine marble floors scorched and stained with the remains of the demonic invasion. The scent of burnt flesh and ozone hung heavy in the air, mingling with the lingering traces of magic. Exhaustion weighed heavily on me, both physically and mentally.
In the game, this attack at the prince's birthday was the beginning of everything. The assault was supposed to last much longer, with numerous casualties. Draven was one of the fallen, and his injuries became a source of ridicule. When the Chancellor and the rest of the professors arrived, their combined efforts sealed the rift, but the damage was done. Draven's failure and his subsequent humiliation drove him deeper into villainy, with more people wanting to kill him. I managed to change the outcome slightly, preserving the Drakhan reputation and maintaining my withdrawal from the noble world.
