The diplomatic relations between the valley of Oakhaven and the mortal Capital had been operating at a state of absolute, highly profitable peace for exactly seven years. Duke Alaric of Ironclad was a deeply pragmatic logistician who completely understood that maintaining a flawless trade route with the northern gods was the absolute pinnacle of political survival.
Therefore, when the heavy ironwood doors of the Oakhaven grand hall violently swung open to reveal a highly panicked, completely exhausted mortal envoy, Valeria knew the situation was a catastrophic emergency.
Duke Alaric had not sent a formal tribute. He had sent a desperate plea for survival.
"Commander," the lead mortal engineer gasped, falling completely to his knees on the polished mahogany floorboards. He was covered in highly inefficient road dust, having ridden completely without rest from the southern borders. "The Great Aqueducts of the Sunreach Valleys are completely collapsing."
