While the orc hordes clashed against the walls of the human knights over the bloody plains—where the cries of men mingled with the roars of beasts and the clash of steel—Arthur was far from this chaos, immersed in a different kind of battle.
In the heart of his silent castle, where only the sound of the wind striking the high windows could be heard, Arthur sat behind his massive desk in his private study.
The flickering torchlights cast shifting shadows on the room's walls, painting ever-changing scenes of stillness and mystery.
A large book lay open before him, its ancient pages exuding the scent of time, as he ran his hand calmly over the faded letters, carefully and attentively reading through the texts.
Beside him, an oddly shaped fruit rested on a small metal plate. Its color was a deep purple, and its shiny surface suggested it still retained some of its natural energy.
