Far to the west of Greystone, deep within the heart of the fortified city of Stonewatch, war preparations were well underway.
Prince Varion sat upon an obsidian throne inside a lavish but shadowed war chamber. Clad in regal crimson robes with golden serpent emblems coiled around his cuffs, he observed a massive map of Aerion unfurled across the war table. His eyes—narrow, calculating, and cold—rested on a single dot to the far east.
Greystone.
"So," he muttered, tracing his gloved finger over the mark, "the boy who dared to resist. A mere city-lord with delusions of grandeur... and yet, he defeated the Tide scouts and humiliated my envoy."
Behind him, Lord Agram knelt—tall, armored in plated black and silver steel, and bearing the sigil of a chained lion. Agram was the Warhound of Stonewatch, feared for razing entire towns without remorse. With his balding head and scarred face, he was the embodiment of brutality and precision.
