Chapter 51 - The Dragon's Lament

The evening sky was shrouded in thickening gray clouds, hanging low as if the heavens themselves were holding their breath. In the distance, a faint red mist rose above scorched earth, mingling with the acrid stench of smoke and sulfur that stung the nose. There were no birdsongs. The air felt heavy. Silent. Too silent.

From behind the last remaining trees at the edge of the burned forest, a cavalry procession emerged. The hoofbeats struck the ashen ground—still faintly smoldering—leaving blackened trails behind them. At the very front, a man pulled the reins of his horse to a halt.

He was Louis Havel, Commander of the Royal Army of Belmore.

He appeared to be around forty, yet his body remained as firm as tempered steel. He wore a dark silver light armor, partially covered by a deep crimson cloak, its edges torn from a long journey. On the left side of his chest was a distinct emblem: a lion's head pierced by two swords forming an X—blood red in color.