Allevatore_dicapre

Bound in chains yet yearning for freedom, Alpheo, a modern historian, finds himself enslaved in a land on the brink of chaos.

As the empire of Rolmia plunges into civil war following the death of the emperor ,  his three ambitious sons  vie for the throne. In the midst of this turmoil, Alpheo finds the chance to break his chain and escape, leading his companions into the ashes of war, trying to thrive in it,  selling their swords to the highest bidder  .

But beyond the borders of Rolmia, hungry eyes watch  as the empire's grip loosens. The Sultanate of Azania, ever the opportunist, sees a chance to expand its domain and influence , while to the south, neighboring principalities breathe a sigh of relief as the once-dominant giant stumbles and falters.

In the sea, the confederation of the Free Isle finds their chance to restore their old maritime power , denied to them by an empire that is now crumbling beneath  itself , lacking the strenght to stop them.

In this crucible of conflict, where dynasties crumble and empires fall, Alpheo find his call and the chance to  forge his own destiny amidst the ashes of empires.

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Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king

Saltbeard stormed away from the center of the hall, his boots striking the stone floor with the force of his simmering rage. His face was a mask of fury, his nostrils flaring as his eyes burned holes into Wavecleaver's smug grin.

Halfway to his chair, Saltbeard turned slowly, his massive frame coiled with tension. His fingers flexed, as if testing their grip, and his shoulders hunched forward ever so slightly. For a fleeting moment, it was clear to all that he was weighing the thought of lunging at Wavecleaver, and perhapse pop his eyes using his thumbs,it wasn't like he hadn't done so already.

The hall held its breath, a collective pause as every eye locked on Saltbeard.

"Lord Saltbeard!" The sharp voice of the old moderator rang out, cutting through the tension like a blade. The sound of the staff striking the ground followed; its echo a warning in the heavy silence. "Return to your seat. Now."

Final speeches