Night falls over Terra Neralis.
The sky is cloaked in ashen clouds. The palace, once brimming with ceremony, now breathes in silence. Flickering torches throw trembling shadows on the marble walls as the king's final decree echoes like a cold bell.
Inside the Great Courtroom.
King Veylor rises from his golden throne for the final announcement of the day, commanding, self-satisfied.
"The gold shall be preserved in the royal treasury. The jewels... gifted to my queens.
The soldiers, horses, and war elephants –keep them guarded, well-fed, and well-trained.
As for the three swords, enshrine them within the royal vaults.
And these women... each one shall be married to me. The royal ceremony shall take place within few days."
Silence follows. Thick, unspoken discontent hangs in the air.
No one dares to speak, but their eyes betray them.
The nobels, the generals, even the advisors– all simmer with quiet envy and growing contempt.
Advisor Kim to another advisor, under breath,
"Even a feast feeds better when shared... yet this king swallows all."
A soldier muttering, "That bloated pig couldn't fight a shadow, yet he walks away with fifty queens and fortune."
General Ovrek, the king's most loyal and feared right hand man, remains silent. He walked away without a word.
His face– etched with old scars and battles fought– carries the weight of disillusionment.
Later, in the Palace Garden,
The moon is high. Cold winds dance through the trees of the royal garden.
Ovrek sits alone beneath a twisted old tree, away from noise, his armor set aside. Arms resting on his knees, his sword by his side.
He had ordered every treasure secured. Every soldier posted. Every whisper silenced.
His eyes stare ahead, unblinking. A warrior alone in his thoughts.
Suddenly,
A voice from behind, softly. "The wind... it's turning colder in your kingdom, isn't it?"
Ovrek turns sharply, instantly alert. His hands moves to his side instinctively.
"Who's there?!"
He spot a figure– perched above him in the very tree he rests beneath. Calmly watching him, was a black-robed figure– unmoving, unreadable.
Ovrek roared at him. "Who are you?! How did you get here without being seen?! Answer before I cut you down!"
The figure drops lightly from the branch, landing with unnatural grace.
Aren replied calmly, "Relax, General. I'm not your enemy."
Ovrek drawn his sword. "Enemies don't announce themselves calmly. Who are you?! An assassian?! Speak before you lose your tongue!"
Aren replied unshakable. "I came because you– perhaps the only one– who understands what's coming."
Ovrek narrows his eyes in confusion. "What do you mean? Everything in this kingdom is under control– as long as I breathe."
Aren nodded in agreement. "And I know you'd fight to your last breath for your land. You're a great warrior... perhaps the last honourable one left here."
Aren steps closer as he speaks.
Ovrek raised his blade in warning. "You're pushing your luck, stranger. That's close enough. You say you're no enemy– prove it. You're treepassing in the royal grounds."
Aren removed his hood. "I'm Aren. Some call me 'Hermit'. A traveler, a vagabond. A witness to rising storms. I warn those who still have time."
Ovrek lower his blade slightly. "Hermit? A saint dressed in black shadows? You speak like a prophet, but carry the air of a ghost. You don't look like salvation."
Aren replied calmly. "Nor do I claim to be. I walk where others fear, speak where others stay silent. Today, I came because I saw a kingdom sinking... and a warrior who can save it."
Ovrek studies him, the grip of his sword loosening.
"And what makes you think you know anything about my kingdom?"
Aren replied firmly. "Because the snake has already silthered in. It has already sunk its fangs."
Ovrek caught breath. "Zerem? From Richha?"
"Yes. The deal is done. But it's a bait– more than a deal. You've invited the wolf to your table and laid your children before him."
Ovrek got furious. "What nonsense are you whispering?"
Aren replied. "Not nonsense. It's a warning. Richha has no intention of honouring this alliance."
Ovrek got defensive. "That's absurd. Richha and Terra Neralis have been allies for generations.
We give them forests, rivers, metals– they give us gold, oil, and protection.
We've fought wars together. We have shared peace for generations.
More importantly, their kindom depends on our land. If they breach this alliance– they'll lose everything."
"Not anymore. They don't seek land. They seek power... of another kind. You still believe this is about trade?"
Ovrek replied coldly. "Power? What do you mean? Tell me what they want."
Aren looked at him. His eyes were cold, unreadable. There's something ancient in his silence.
"Not all treasure lies in vaults. There is something hidden beneath your soil, your stones– something ancient. A secret older than your king and kingdom. A hunger they've been feeding for years. And now... they've come to claim it. They'll dig it out... and bury your people in its place."
Ovrek narrowed his eyes. "You speak in riddles, Hermit. If you know something– speak plainly."
"I already have. Whether you choose to listen... that's your burden."
Ovrek takes a step back, silent. The wind brushes the garden leaves like distant whispers.
Aren turned away, a sudden chorus of footsteps aproached– guards.
"Time short. If you think I'm mad. Forget me. Dismiss this as the rambling of a wanderer.
But if your instincts are still sharp– if you feel the cold too– Call for me... before the snake tightens its grip."
A sudden gust of wind scatters the leaves. Aren is gone– vanished like a shadow under moonlight.
Ovrek screamed. "WAIT! Come back–!"
A moment later– guards arrive.
Guard Captain asked. "General Ovrek! We heard you shout. Is everything alright?"
Ovrek stands in place, motionless for a long second, stunned. His hand is clenched at his side.
Ovrek replied quietly. "...Nothing. Just... a dream. That's all."
He waves them off. The guards bow and leave.
As Ovrek turns to walk away, something soft brushes his shoulder.
A black butterfly.
He stops coldly. His eyes narrow. He doesn't brush it off.
He whispers to himself. "Hermit... or what?
What the hell are you?"