Fires dot the skyline... The sparse pockets of resistence strewn about in the walled city of Alweistrom have at last been crushed under the foot of the mighty Tythian Empire. All that remains to be conquered is the very throne of King Somerset. The keep has held strong for many months, enduring brutal seige... but it is all in vain. The last hours of the battle draw to a close...<br/><br/><div align="center">xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx</div><br/>"No mercy, men! King Somerset's perversions are an affront to the Gods, and his crimes demand nothing less than death!" shouts the Tythian captain to the soldiers below, "Do not think of the castle's inhabitants as anything more than whores and lecherous swine!"<br/><br/>The crowd of soldiers below the captain's little dirt mound cheered in response. This was it, they knew. The gates of the castle rocked under each heavy blow from their battering rams. The end of this seige was over.<br/><br/>The Tythian drew his sword, smiling smugly. He felt so supremely confident, drunk with anticipation for the slaughter. The man's elegant eagle-shaped helmet glistened by the torchlight. It was the middle of the night, but all the men under his command could behold his glory, clad in his silver armor and white robes. The Tythian uniform's majesty could never conceal the blackness of this man's heart.<br/><br/>The gates reeled under each blow of the ram, until at last they were unable to endure, breaking apart as the invading army swarmed into the castle, Tythian champions at the head of their Eslundian conscripts, slaying a tired defender at every corridor, in every room. There was no hope of victory for Alweistrom's king. In all the chaos, none revelled in the killing as much as the eagle-helmed captain.<br/><br/><div align="center">xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx</div><br/>A soldier bursts through the door of Rhianna Somerset's bedroom, gravely injured. "Milady..." The Alweisti guard gasps, "You must come with me..."