Falling into the abyss(1)

In the stillness of a moonless night, a lone figure stumbled through the great green plains outside the city of Yarzat. Out here, in the quiet embrace of the open land, there was only the sound of shuffling boots, the occasional snap of a twig underfoot, and the gentle slosh of golden liquid against lips

Sir Robert—no, Lord Robert now—clutched the bottle of court-issued cider with a white-knuckled grip.

The finest vintage, they had called it, gifted in honor of his elevation.

A castle of his own, sprawling lands, villages teeming with peasants to tax and rule—a dream for most knights, especially for one who had once held only a poor village as his fief.

By all accounts, he should have been elated.

Instead, each step felt heavier than the last, as if the weight of his new title had shackled him, dragging him deeper into a mire of doubt.