The borderlands between Astraia and the Kingdom of Orestes were a bleak tapestry of jagged limestone and grey, waist-high scrub. The wind here was a constant, mournful presence, whipping across the disputed territory with a chill that tasted of impending winter and old blood. In the center of this desolate expanse stood a series of stone markers, old and weathered, and beside them, several tall poles firmly planted in the earth. From these poles hung the banners of Orestes, deep crimson fabric embroidered with a golden hawk, snapping violently in the gale. They were arrogant symbols of territorial claim, marking land that Constantine now intended to reclaim with fire and cold iron.
Constantine stood a few paces away from the markers, his black cloak billowing around him like the wings of
