"Who is that?"
It was a pompous celebration held at the very heart of the March of Tiernan.
A joyous occasion where the nobles socialize and drink, boasting about their accomplishments and their partsin making this celebration possible. Dancers, music, and the wine made the experience almost alien to the likes of the weak.
Peasants or lesser people will never experience this kind of occasion.
Why would they? Power is the currency for luxury.
Each one of the people in this grand hall, young or old, men or women, are all powerful people.
It doesn't matter whether their power originated from being born with noble blood; nobody cares as long as the end result is power. Unfair? Perhaps. At least Agnar thought so, but he didn't blame these people.
Ghosts tear down Humanity and remind them of one simple fact.
That survival doesn't weigh fairness on its scales.
So, instead of blaming the world, he decided to do whatever it takes to obtain power.
And now, he has one foot inside.
