The year is 1100 AGD, After the Great World Divider—a time marked by mild chaos in a world where martial prowess and weaponry rule supreme. The Kingdom of Nri thrives in this era, having expanded its lands and resources through conquest.

In the heart of this kingdom, a room resplendent in luxury cradles a man of quiet power. He sits majestically on an intricately crafted wooden chair, his late forties gracing his features with a gentle yet formidable presence. Striking yellow pupils, rare and intimidating, scan the room from beneath a furrowed brow. Dark skin contrasts with silver streaks in his tapered black hair, and his mustache is trimmed to perfection, reflecting the order he maintains.

Around him, the hall-like room stretches, with ten chairs encircling a long table, six feet from his seat. Two long stairs lead to his elevated position. Before him kneels a man in light silver armor, holding his helmet in one hand, his other knee touching the ground. He looks up to the lord and speaks with a mix of excitement and reverence.

“My Lord, something incredible has occurred,” the armored man reports.

The Lord's face remains an enigmatic mask of neutrality. “Continue,” he prompts.

“About two hours ago, a figure emerged from the Great World Divider...” the soldier begins.

At these words, the Lord rises abruptly, his expression shifting to one of startled intrigue—a rare sight. But soon, he regains his composure, settling back into his seat.

As he does so, two more individuals enter. Echoing the Lord's attire yet adorned more traditionally, they wear robes with intricate, colorful patterns, a tapestry of the kingdom's rich history woven into their garments. One is a man with a half-buttoned shirt revealing a moderately hairy chest; the other is a 16-year-old girl. They take their seats at the far end of the table, acknowledging the Lord with a subtle nod before sitting.

“Father, three other tribes are already mobilizing,” the girl speaks up, her voice gentle but carrying enough weight to be heard by all.

“They belong to the High Tribe clans,” adds the young man, 24 years in age.

The Lord, maintaining his stoic expression, turns his attention back to the kneeling soldier. “Is His Majesty the King aware of this occurrence?”

“Yes, Lord. His Majesty was informed immediately after the sighting. He has ordered four Commanders to apprehend the individual...” the soldier responds, pausing briefly before continuing, “His Majesty also commands all available tribes and troops to be on standby and monitor the situation.”

The young man, Ogon, interjects with a slight laugh, “Father, I have the orders. I was about to bring them to you. I guess Kato beat me to it.”

Kato, the soldier, visibly tenses at Ogon's remark. Ogon then turns to his father, “If four commanders are acting, perhaps we needn't interfere. Interfering might only bring trouble for our clan, right, Father?”

Before the Lord can respond, the girl, Selene, chides her brother. However, the room's atmosphere shifts slightly, becoming more intense. The Lord, now showing faint signs of irritation, addresses Kato.

“I command you, in my name, Rayowa Lungile, to gather 200 of our best men. Under the banner of the High Tribe Clan of Lungile, join the troops on standby as His Majesty commands.”

“I, Kato Jasper, will follow your command,” Kato responds and hastily exits the room. Ogon and Selene, sensing the change in the air, grow more serious.

“Father, what shall we do?” Ogon inquires.

“You shall accompany me to His Majesty’s side. Selene, you will stay and protect our clan until my return,” the Lord decides.

Selene starts to voice her dissatisfaction but reconsiders upon seeing her father's unyielding gaze. His expression, though unchanged, speaks volumes.