In the heart of the North, the Ducal Estate of Stormcrest stood like a mountain of grey stone. Inside the solar, Duke Vane sat behind a heavy oak desk. He was a man built like a fortress, but today, his shoulders were heavy.
A fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across the floor.
Beyond the window, the land stretched toward a horizon that had once been green but was now scarred by years of war. The Duke read through reports that all said the same thing. His face was tired, his jaw tight.
The weight of this war had settled into his bones long ago.
Beside him stood his chief aide, a thin man named Silas, who handled the many secrets of the domain.
"...How many villages have we lost?" the Duke asked without looking up.
"Seven in the last month alone," Silas said. "The monsters are coming in waves now. We cannot hold them all."
