Dartaius stared wistfully at the passing vanguard, the crunch of snow beneath their heavy boots hung in the air alongside the silence of the onlookers that crowded the roadside. A vanguard made up of Alriaden men and women of the capital that acted as paragons of protection, and enforcers if need be. In this case, it was the former, as they marched to meet the steadily advancing neighbouring nation of Dessue which had at first begun encroaching months prior, but now held militant outposts that rested deep into the Highlands. It had become an age of unprecedented times, filled with uncertainty and worry that grew steadily, hardly swayed by even the constant reassurance of the monarchy.

Dartaius clung to the wooden fence that separated him from the battalion and the road they walked upon, resting on his tiptoes so that he might peek a glance of a Highlander, and that he did. The boy's melancholic gaze turned into one of admiration as a single, solitary pilot came into view, marching amidst comrades but set apart and encased by a light blue and silver skeletal exosuit kept pristine. An ancient testimony to the ingenuity and militancy of Alriada. A metallic carapace, seemingly foreign to this world world, granting its wearer the ability to become an exceptional warrior and usually prevented their death due to the unmatched protection that it offered. It was towering shield that encompassed its wearers body. Unfortunately, in this case, death was unavoidable. The silence that hung in the air, the silence of the onlookers, was one of lament. The crunch of the snow came from heavy boots and heavy hearts as the marines marched stalwartly to their own demise. 

Dessue, an empire known for its cities of silver and gold spread out across territory larger than that of any other nation, ruled by bickering nobles that could only seem to agree upon the inferiority of Alriada, continued to overwhelm the Highlands. Alriada, a nation with a culture based on pride and reputation, far smaller than their aggressors but known for their sprawling, fertile Highlands made up of rich woodlands, wild expanses, rugged mountains. As Well as cities filled with craftsmen and merchants overseen by tall sandstone keeps ruled by various lieges kept in check by the monarchy. A history of internal strife within the young Kingdom, and grudges between lieges kept fresh in the minds, has led to a poor outlook on Alriaden society from outsiders. That, and the common fear of Dessue, meant that Alriada would receive no assistance from others. And so, border refugees continued to flood the Capital.

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A saddened sigh escaped Dartaius, his hot breath made visible by the coldness of the air. He turned slowly on his heels which were now wet from snow, and melted away towards his families home. A basic structure in appearance, made up of wood and stone with shutters covering its windows and a single chimney peeking from a flat roof. Within was a simple but comfortable interior. Once through the door, the boy watched his family pack what belongings they could into what little space the crates that were sprawled across the wooden floor held. 

Irritation arose within the boy as he quickly realized what was happening. His gaze wandered between his family members, from his mother, to his sister, then finally resting on his father who had already reared his head back to peer at Dartaius. The man slowly clambered to his feet, groaning as he did so. He was a poorly aged man in his early fourties, grey streaks ran through his hair which rested loosely on his shoulders. He blew upwards, attempting to move loose strands of hair that covered his wrinkled and rough face. He was a large man, tall with broad shoulders and had a stomach that arched over his feet. 

"Right Dart, as we discussed. Refugee caravans will be flooding the area in the coming days, and I'd like to be on the road before they fill up the Capitals roads." 

A hefty sigh escaped Dartaius, making his disagreement and annoyance clear to the rest of the family. Unfortunately as a mere boy he was in no position to truly word his disagreement, and deep down knew this was likely the best decision. His father was no fool and was respected throughout the village, a respect that would quickly fade as he prioritises his family over his honour. "I wonder how this will affect our reputation..." escaped faintly as the boy made his way towards his belongings and empty crates. A families reputation held a lot of value and meaning within Alriada, a sturdy nation with a culture based on honour . Fleeing one's village and people while not under immediate threat could only be seen as an act of cowardice. "Fortunately there are none that know of our name in the Lowlands" Lilidh, his sister, retorted, "And considering that'll be where our new home lies..." The silence that followed carried her point as well as any words could have. She sat slightly taller than Dartaius, her ginger hair reaching past her waist, and brushing against the wooden floor on which she sat. She clearly seemed displeased with the notion of leaving, her tone reflecting her irritation.  "Right, and the royals have done little that might convince us to do otherwise." Their father said decidedly, ignoring any sense of irritation from the two. "And I'd much rather live in the Lowlands with our lives than in the Highlands under Dessue."

"Therefore we'll be on our way before the Dessuians give us a reason at our doorstep."