Ogard Kingdom.
The great hall of Ogard Keep.
A fortress within itself—massive stone pillars carved with the likeness of wolves and serpents, the ancient totems of the kingdom.
Fires burned in iron braziers, as the banners of Ogard hung in the autumn air, green and silver stitched with the crowned wolf.
King Roderic of Ogard, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of steel in his beard, sat upon the wolf-carved throne at the head of the chamber.
His eyes, sharp and weathered, scanned the parchment in his hand.
The seal had already been broken—the crimson wax impressed with the sigil of the Valerian royal house, the crest of the Empire. But the handwriting within was unmistakably that of Prince Sylas Valerian.
The hall was quiet.
Only the distant growl of wind from the mountain passes seeped through the stone. Around the long table before the throne sat his council: generals, merchants, priests, and lords bound by oath and fear alike.
