The King of Lazica paced his chambers, the polished floorboards gleaming under the flickering candlelight. The weight of his crown felt heavier than ever, pressing down on his young shoulders.
The treaty with Ereia, a document he'd signed with such naive hope, now felt like a shackle. He ran a hand through his already disheveled hair, the lines of worry etched deeper into his face each passing day.
The northern barbarians, once a manageable threat, were now a terrifyingly well-armed force, their iron weapons gleaming menacingly under the harsh northern sun. And it was all thanks to Adhalia.
Adhalia, the Ereians' seemingly innocuous merchant, whose caravans snaked their way across the plains, leaving a trail of iron and discontent in their wake. Her trade with the barbarians was a blatant violation of the spirit, if not the letter, of the treaty.