Overture to the Fall of a Nation

[The Order of the World]

Once, a vast, unified nation spanned this continent. Its name was the Adler Empire. The Emperor’s authority was absolute, and none doubted that his rule would endure for a thousand years.

Yet a catastrophe no human power could withstand began quietly tearing the mighty empire apart from within. A pestilence known as the Black Death struck, followed by an unprecedented Great Famine. The continent’s richest granaries withered to barren earth, and along the highways leading to the Imperial Capital, corpses of those felled by disease and starvation piled high.

The Empire's ability to govern rapidly unraveled. The Emperor became a figurehead who did nothing but offer prayers to the gods, and directives from the capital no longer reached any of the regional lords. The noble lords who had once sworn fealty to the Empire turned on one another under the pretext of protecting their own lands and subjects.

Thus began an age of endless conflict that engulfed the entire continent. Later historians would call this chaotic age the Era of Warlords.

Valzen Ducal Calendar Year 10, July 1: Marquisate of Caledon, Drachenburg Castle

[POV: Reinhold von Caledon, Heir to Marquis Caledon]

Not even ten days had passed since Father lost his life at Helden Hills. With the Empire's authority gone, Father’s charisma had been the sole linchpin holding the lords of Caledon Territory together. With that linchpin gone, ugly ambition over who would claim the next mantle of power had begun to swirl among the nobles who had gathered at Drachenburg Castle to pay their condolences.

A messenger burst into the Throne Room, his frantic shout shattering the heavy atmosphere. "I-I humbly report! Duke Valzen has marched out of Ducal Capital Eisenburg at the head of four thousand troops! Word has arrived that he is bound for Helden Hills!"

The news plunged the assembly into chaos, like a disturbed hornet’s nest.

"W-What?! Has he moved already?!"

"Helden Hills?! Does he intend to use that foothold to sweep straight into our lands?!"

"Curse that Valzen, taking advantage of our weakness!"

"My lands lie close to Helden Hills! Lord Reinhold, send reinforcements at once!"

"Fool! If we dispatch troops to protect your domain, what happens if the main castle is left exposed?"

Not another word of grief for Father passed anyone's lips. They cared only for the safety of their own domains, scheming to preserve themselves at their neighbors' expense.

(Is this the realm Father fought so hard to preserve?) Seated upon the throne, I, Reinhold von Caledon, bit my lip. Before anger could even take hold, an overwhelming helplessness ate away at me.

"Silence! Everyone, calm yourselves!" My desperate shouts went unheard, lost on men driven by immediate threats and their own selfish desires.

Then a single, sharp clearing of the throat echoed through the hall, forcibly silencing the commotion. It was my uncle, Count Gerhard.

"...How disgraceful, gentlemen. The enemy has not even crossed our border, yet look at this disarray." His calm voice fell over the hall, silencing everyone.

Count Gerhard glanced at me where I sat on the throne, making no effort to conceal his disdain. "Lord Reinhold. Do you intend to repeat your father's mistake? What we require now is sound judgment. Moving our forces recklessly will play right into Duke Valzen's hands, leaving our troops to be picked off piecemeal."

"Are you telling me we should just stand idly by?!"

"Precisely. Drachenburg Castle is impregnable. We evacuate our people inside and prepare for a siege. Even Duke Valzen will find himself helpless before these massive walls. Buying time to await reinforcements from neighboring realms is our best and only option."

His argument was mere sophistry, tantamount to accepting defeat before the fight had even begun. He was proposing that we hole up inside and abandon our lands to be ravaged at Duke Valzen's whim.

(There is no one left I can rely on. In that case...) Slowly, I rose from the throne. I scanned the faces of the gathered nobles one by one. In their eyes, I saw only relief and shameful self-preservation.

"...Perhaps my uncle is right. Those who wish to hole up for a siege may remain in this castle."

At my words, the tension in the hall visibly eased.

But I continued. "But I am taking the field. This is a battle for my father's memory. By the pride of House Caledon, I will avenge him—even if I must stand alone!"

I whipped my cloak around and left the Throne Room without looking back once. Behind me, whispers of confusion and mockery stirred. Even so, I did not stop.

The realm Father had built and the Empire had lost was now crumbling from within. I was the only one left who could stop it. Even if it meant a suicidal stand, no matter how reckless a battle it might be.

And yet, held back by the others, I was unable to march out.