Dain, being only 15 year old, is already a brutal and relentless king. one that strikes fear into the hearts of his enemies. one that bathes in blood and power, and survives off of dominance.

one a month, the 12 monarchs of the 12 kingdoms meet at a point in the middle, in a marble pavilion to discuss their countries, alliances and enemies. striding in his his advisor and personal guard, Dain was smug. he controlled the largest kingdom, Worith, and was in a particular mood. wearing a ruby studded crown and gray attire, his eyes swept over the pavilion. something was different today, and there was a reason for that.