The morning sun crept over the battered city walls, casting light on the aftermath of the brutal siege. Soldiers limped across the cobblestone streets, some clutching wounds, others supporting comrades too weak to stand on their own. Everywhere Canila looked, there was evidence of what they had endured—the smell of smoke lingering in the air, the broken weapons scattered across the battlefield, and the solemn faces of the guild members and citizens alike.
The Council of Allies
In the central hall of the city, a temporary council had gathered. Representatives from the allied guilds who had come to their aid sat alongside Canila's core team. Each of them bore signs of battle: torn armor, blood-stained hands, eyes hollowed by sleepless nights. As the murmurs of conversation began to settle, Canila took a deep breath and rose to address the group.