🍁Nine Ancient Obelisks

The days of a man unburdened by worries are empty and fleeting; the days of a busy man are full and fleeting. Vivid impressions lengthen the perception of time, but just as quickly shorten the time allotted by fate. Hence, the conclusion naturally follows: true longevity lies only in physical or mental torment, when every second seems like an agonizing eternity. All that is bright is swept away by gusts of wind; darkness, however, forever settles in the heart.

Trying to recall his last visit to his hometown, Asmidul remembered only a fateful March day last year. Undoubtedly, the heel of his desert boots has trodden the tiles in the palace square more than once since then, but for some reason, only that distant return from his first trip directly into the ambush of the Black Knight has remained in his memory... Perhaps Sir Tann will soon complete what he started at the head of his undead army. Although, who knows, maybe the same racial definitions apply to the undead as to ordinary mortals, and the Nephites cannot stand the Haranians...

Does this mean war is inevitable? Over the past year, the acceptance of this fact seems to have settled somewhere in his subconscious. The obviousness of this, as well as the fact that Asuguh will not be able to withstand even if the king declares a mobilization, is somewhere nearby. So why hasn't Asmidul, in the year 1001, run to buy tickets to Margel yet?

Apparently, over the past few months, something else has appeared in him, taking a place next to the other two "realizations." Something intangible, which he acquired during his introductory journey through the cities of this sun-scorched land. A land with many problems, but still his homeland. And now, with all his heart, he did not want to see it perish in the clutches of wheezing abominations. If even the decaying Imperials managed to defend themselves against the local undead, then what are the Asuguh worse?


Having watched the familiar protectors, the young man stood in thought for a while, until a familiar voice called out to him:

- Good day, sir! - When the crowd thinned out a little, his now old acquaintance, Issina, turned to Asmidul. - The king wants to see you!
She gestured for him to follow her.

- M...? Good day, - he replied in the Nahelesian manner, now that he was no longer a student. - The king? Well, let's not keep him waiting.
It has been quite some time since the delivery of the Nitrine letter, but he could not think of any other reason for such an unexpected honor.