Crossing the north of the Cavaus Hills, heart of the empire, and boarding the ship at the first ferry, sailing along the winding Susuri River for three days and nights, the fleet in the past was intercepted under a towering barrier for security checks. However, after the empire’s collapse, they were subject to boat taxes imposed by the warlords in the area.
After the prayer ritual was completed and the ship was equipped with strong sails, one can be allowed to enter the famous Wolf Howl Pass. The transport ship carefully navigated through the dark waterways, trying to avoid hitting the shipwrecks that had been scattered on the cliffs for thousands of years. Until the snowflakes fell on the topman's face, he reached out to wipe it away, but found it impossible to melt away - they had arrived in Graywood.
Graywood was not always gray woods. The vast black forest known as Uaine was once filled with tribes and was also the meeting point of the cultures of the Àilean and Etna people, until the Àilean people were driven away by King Demnitate of Devora to the other side of the Luceda Strait in Insula Nebula. With the death of the Dignity King and the collapse of the Devoran Kingdom, the Etna people took the opportunity to establish settlements in the forest in the absence of power. Thanks to abundant water resources, wood and fur from Uaine appeared in the luxury goods market throughout the empire during its heyday.
Some scholars said that the event that turned Uaine into "Graywood" rang the prelude to the elegy of the Empire. With a loud noise that could be heard even in the capital, the Anganar Volcano north of the Fenwick Bay erupted, and most of the ancient castles in the north disappeared under thick volcanic ash. In the 479th year since Imperator brought back the divine flame from the Flamma Desert, the entire forest was covered in warm snow, and this snow has not stopped to this day.
The pine trees withered, the cedar trees wilted, and the forest, once a rich green treasure, became a dead and silent gray hell overnight. A large number of armies were forced to retreat south through the Wolf Howl Pass, plunging the Empire, which was based on plunder, into chaos. Etna even closed its gates and falsely claimed that the old soldiers seeking relief outside were "barbarian hybrids", causing the legions, which had no way of seeking help, to scatter and become bandits.
The young emperor and the powerful officials in the court, lacking insight, originally planned to sacrifice the people of the borderlands for peace, but what they did not expect was that the troubled colonized and wandering old soldiers, as well as ambitious usurpers, would join forces. Regions across the Empire declared independence one after another, and the Empire watched helplessly as it was torn apart.
In order to seek military achievements and quell the unrest spreading within the city, each by each, armies wearing purple and yellow archaic clothing, with the divine flame, passed through the golden gate in a procession, and headed to the villages on the border to seek virgins to burn. This plan worked initially, until the army, shining with renewed flame, returned in triumph as usurpers, and after devastating civil wars, were crowned as emperors under the trembling hands of the senates.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
This is just a fragment of the late Empire's historical records. Similar stories were repeated countless times, which is the complete picture of the tragedy.
People have already accepted that the Empire is on the path of death, but no one can claim that it is already dead. After the colonies could no longer provide fresh virgins, the capital soon became deserted. At night, the silver bell-like laughter of a young girl occasionally drifted through the alleys, but quickly dissipated in the wind. The old temples no longer had virgins to attend to, and on the empty altars, the divine flame that once guarded the Empire was now free, scattered like stars among the armies stationed outside. Any army camp had more population than the capital, yet these military towns fought for a city they had not visited for a long time, or even just heard of, and fought for an Empire dream that was even more faint and irretrievable than their hopes.
The Graywood that died before the Empire, like a layer of skin on the deceased, was covered with thick, grayish-white corpse wax. From time to time, maggots would appear, wearing purple and gold robes, marching in formation and crawling underneath with their heads held high, blindly trying to plunder the last flesh and blood of the glorious past.
Someone once said that the era of Imperator had ended, and it was the era of warlord. The defenders of righteousness had scoffed and despaired, saying that this was clearly the era of "usurpers". But who could deny that if the ambition of the usurpers still throbbed, perhaps one day, a butterfly would emerge from the dead body of the Empire?
The dense dark clouds and tree shadows isolated the stars, making the winter night of Graywood bottomless and profound. Only the swaying lanterns, shining through dirty glasses, occasionally reflected a solemn gray on the faded snow, like the face of a dead person. A group of demons struggled to lift their legs in waist-deep volcanic ash. Their raised shoulders and horns were all types of armor, while fur cloaks protected them from the cold.
The leader, a knight in full steel, ordered everyone to stop and extinguish their lanterns. In the dazzling ash and deafening wind, a beam of light suddenly appeared in the gap of the dense forest. The knight yelled again and spurred his horse forward.
The horse snorted out steam, advancing towards the light source hidden behind layers of tree trunks. The flames flickered like countless golden needles, piercing through the darkness. Even though the darkness receded, its eternal, vast, and deep presence always watched with envy and never stopped coveting the light. A small flame in the boundless darkness was like a trainer with a whip hiding in the wilderness, or a great conqueror on a small boat in the midst of a storm, always at risk of being engulfed by the surging darkness. The ghosts of all virtuous virgins seemed to have possessed the old armor emitting a faint light, joining the knight in an endless battle of despair against the darkness.
The horse dashed out of the forest and came to a stop in an open space beyond the tree line. In front of the knight were scattered several massive stones half-buried in mud and snow. As he looked closer, he realized they were the round huts of a village. A group of men, dressed like participants in a secret ritual, were hiding under their cloaks, holding torches and farm tools, blocking the knight's way.
"The people lit the beacon, and the legion responded," a booming male voice reverberated in the knight's helmet, and then spread out from the vent holes. "People of Danton, why did you call upon the legion?"