THE GRAND OLD
PRESENTED BY DEFLUX STUDIOS
As the winds of fate shifted, Erik's mind raced, haunted by visions of blood and fire. Empress Lava, his beloved wife, was gone. Assassinated. The only kind soul left in a world of ambition and treachery, her death shattered him. Her passing had driven him to the edge, and now he stared down into the abyss. Leopardsburg stood as a crumbling bastion of his delusions. The distant sound of Theodorus' Emberguard horns echoed through the wind, but Erik no longer saw them as allies. They were vultures, drawn to the scent of a dying dream.
"Jag har inget kvar," Erik whispered. I have nothing left.
Gaius, the ever-faithful messenger of Aric, slipped into the shadows once more after delivering his final orders. The plan was in motion-manipulating Theodorus against Farengar was a delicate balance, but Aric had no illusions about his role. He wasn't just fighting for Leopardsburg; he was fighting for a Valeria free of its imperial ghosts.
Aric's forces moved quickly through the night, their path set on intercepting the Frostborne Knights before they could reach the city. His soldiers were weary, but his words fueled them.
"Kärlek är en svärd," Aric had said, his voice cutting through the fear. Love is a sword. It was a mantra now, whispered among the ranks. They would carve their future from the chaos around them, and they would fight for the people-not for a throne.
Far to the west, the Frostborne Knights marched with ruthless precision, their armor gleaming under the moonlight. Farengar, seated on his throne of ice in Winterhaven, smiled to himself. Erik was a broken man, his mind shattered by the loss of Lady Lava, and Theodorus' forces were no match for the sheer ferocity of the Frostborne.
But Farengar's confidence was not absolute. He knew his brother well enough to sense the undercurrents. Theodorus was a strategist, a man who could turn weakness into an advantage. If Aric's rebellion were to succeed, it might create the perfect opening for Theodorus to exploit.
"Vi ska krossa dem alla," Farengar muttered to himself. We will crush them all. He did not care for alliances or long-term plans. The throne of Valeria would be his, no matter how much blood it took to claim it.
Meanwhile, in the depths of the mountains, General Piyu's position as Khan of the Dustum Khanate was far from secure. Rumors of unrest spread through the tribes, and the old loyalties to Monchug were fading fast. The tribes respected strength, and though Piyu held power for now, he knew that any misstep could bring him crashing down. His spies had informed him of the movements in Valeria, of the Frostborne marching toward Leopardsburg, and of the tension between Theodorus and Farengar. Piyu saw an opportunity-if the battle for Leopardsburg weakened both the west and the south, the Dustum might strike while the factions were at their weakest.
In Eboncrest, High King Leopold faced his own troubles. The once-united clans were fracturing, and the old bandit lords who had rallied under his banner now saw a chance to reclaim their own territories. The chaos in Valeria might spill into Eboncrest, and Leopold knew he could not hold the union together forever. But for now, he would wait, biding his time until the storm had passed.
As dawn broke over the hills, the first clash between Aric's forces and the Frostborne Knights echoed through the valley. Steel rang against steel, and the air filled with the screams of the dying. Aric had hoped to delay the Frostborne long enough for Theodorus to intervene, but as the battle raged on, he realized that victory would not come easily.
"Hold the line!" Aric shouted, his voice hoarse as he fought alongside his men. But the Frostborne were relentless, their cold brutality a reflection of their master.
Farengar's shadow loomed large over the battlefield, even in his absence.
And in the distance, the Emberguard advanced. Theodorus had received Aric's message, but whether he would act in time-or at all-remained uncertain.
In the crumbling heart of Leopardsburg, Erik watched the horizon, waiting for the fires of war to reach him. But in his heart, the war had already been lost. Lady Lava was gone. Valeria was gone. Only the blood remained.
TUNE IN NEXT WEDNESDAY 10/9/24
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THE GRAND OLD
FantasíaIn the twilight of the ancient continent of Valeria, an empire teeters on the brink of oblivion. Once a bastion of unity and power, it now stands fractured by civil war, its glory fading under the weight of betrayal and ambition. Blood spills across...
