The Rule
***
On the barren field of Draevenmoor, where the winds had long whispered of kings and curses, two mighty armies faced one another.
On one side stood Samarth, mounted upon a dark steed, his armor quiet, the banners behind him fluttering like silent prayers. Ten thousand men stood with him—few in number, yet unwavering in spirit.
On the other side loomed the vast host of Calantha, Queen of Everia, her army stretching like a storm across the horizon—eighty thousand strong. She herself sat tall upon a white stallion, clad in black and gold armor, her presence both terrible and majestic, her guards at her side like shadows waiting for her signal.