The evening sky over the fortress-city of Althaar began to fade.
Birds returned to their nests as the air carried the scent of dry earth and faint smoke drifting from the edges of the village.
Once a tranquil city, Althaar now held a tension unseen, yet deeply felt by every inhabitant.
In a dark room lit only by the flicker of a single candle, Kael Viremont stared at a rough map of the borderlands, its surface marked with streaks of black ink.
His eyes narrowed bearing not just the weight of war,
but of a political game he had yet to fully understand.
"Dangan Verlmir… he's not just another petty noble," Kael murmured.
"Every move he makes is calculated for something far greater."
Around him, dozens of armed men and women prepared their gear, their faces a mixture of hope and fear.
They believed in him in the man who, to them, could bring change.
But within, Kael felt more like a pawn,
moved in a game whose board he couldn't even see.
Meanwhile, behind thick curtains in the fortress command room, Alberch Varn received the latest report from the outer scouts.
"Captain Tharic Elwen and his patrol were found dead,"
the soldier reported, tension tight in his voice.
"Their bodies burned… no witnesses. Only traces of dark magic left behind."
Alberch's brow furrowed.
"This is no longer a mere rebellion.
There's another hand behind this."
He dipped his pen in both ink and blood writing a report to the Imperial Court,
a warning of the worsening situation.
He knew:
if this fire wasn't extinguished soon,
the entire border could collapse into open war.
Back in the rebel stronghold, Kael leaned against the old wooden table and lifted his black spear an heirloom of his family, now the banner of revolt.
"This is no longer about taxes or land,"
he told his followers.
"It's about our dignity. About voices the Empire refuses to hear."
But behind his words, Kael knew every decision he made could be the turning point
for the fate of this entire region.
In the shadows, Sevrin Thorne , the right hand of Zero, watched from afar.
Her smile was cold.
"They're just pawns,"
she whispered.
"Everything is unfolding… exactly as planned."
The night sky deepened, and to the east, a small flame began to rise.
The war on the border had just begun.