[In the meantime… somewhere far down south]
A wounded man forced himself up the hill towards the majestic palace that stood proudly over the city of Dago.
It had been a painfully difficult journey to reach this point. Days, or perhaps even more than a month had passed; he had long lost track of time, having travelled solely on foot.
To make matters worse, enemy hunting forces had been tracking down the remaining soldiers of Barges who had fled the battlefield. He had been among the survivors, constantly hiding to avoid capture, which had further prolonged his escape.
After what felt like a lifetime, he finally arrived at his destination.
"Take me to the king!" the man shouted, his voice raw with agony.
His body was covered in untreated wounds, poorly bandaged with scraps of cloth he had gathered along the way. He forced himself forward, despite a badly infected foot that reeked of rot and was swarmed by flies. Still, he had a duty to return and report to his king.
