Octavius had been engrossed in his evening training in a small grassy field within the confines of his miniature diorama when he spotted a presence lingering nearby. Initially, he had assumed that the person was a fellow resident of the display, but he soon realized that he had been mistaken.

"Who goes there?" he inquired, raising his sword in caution. His voice echoed through the miniature space, casting an atmosphere of tension over the setting.