The kingdom of Eirenthal thrived under the rule of Queen Seraphine Vaeloria, a knight-queen known for both her deadly blade and unmatched beauty. Clad in chain-mail armor and crowned with silver-moon dusted hair, she led her people with pride, never needing a king by her side.

Until a letter arrived—delivered by wyvern, sealed in black wax.

"Seraphine, your beauty has reached the mountains of Grothar. I, Gorrmak, King of Orcs, demand your hand in marriage. Refuse, and I will take you—and your kingdom—by force."

She scoffed. Burned the letter before her court.

"Let that beast come. I bow to no one."

But days later, a second message came. Blood-soaked. The courier, barely alive.

"You insult me. I will raze your lands, crush your walls, and take you in chains. You will be mine— you'll scream my name as my bride and slave. Prepare for war."

Panic swept the capital. Soldiers armed themselves. War drums echoed on the horizon. Yet Seraphine stood tall, heart pounding.

The orc king was coming.

And he wouldn’t ask twice.