In the great castle of Redwood, an army of knights stood ready to defend its walls. Three ballistae were aimed toward one direction—the forest. For years, the castle had guarded the border of the Baratav Kingdom. Throughout those years, Baratav had been locked in a political and military conflict with the Heilkos Kingdom, a war that had raged on for five relentless years without pause.
The Redwood Forest had long been a precious land to both the Baratav and Helikos Kingdoms, for it was rich in farmland and mineral resources-the very reason the war began. The Helikos Kingdom had attempted to invade the forest many times, yet each assault was repelled by the formidable defenses of Redwood Castle, leaving Helikos in frustration and defeat.
However, the Helikos Kingdom never ceased its assaults, causing massive devastation throughout the Baratav Kingdom. It wasn't until the fifth year that Baratav finally triumphed through political means, forcing Helikos to withdraw its army of knights from the Redwood Forest. Yet even now, the Baratav Kingdom continues to defend its border with unwavering vigilance.
Five months after the Helikos Kingdom's retreat, a full moon hung high in the sky. Guards patrolled carefully along the castle walls, their armor faintly glinting under the pale light. Inside the fortress, however, many soldiers gathered in a small tavern, celebrating the peace they had earned. A little rum and beer, they thought, wouldn't hurt anyone—after all, they had done their duty well.
In the corner of the tavern, a young knight sat alone, drinking a mug of beer while reading a message. It seemed he had picked it up from the ground during his patrol.
"This is totally a fake magic scroll," the young knight muttered under his breath.
"Ezekiel! Come here, kid! We've got something for you!" A familiar voice called out from the crowd — a middle-aged man addressing the young knight.
"If it's another beer shot, I'm afraid I'll have to refuse!" Ezekiel shouted back.
"Not that, you fool! The mailman's here — he's got one for you! Besides, my paycheck got cut for that wine barrel I broke…" the old man grumbled.
Ezekiel froze for a moment, surprised. In his twenty-three years of life, no one had ever sent him a letter. The only mail he'd ever received was the kind he found lying on the ground.
"Are you sure it's mine? There's probably another Ezekiel around here," he said, sounding confused — maybe even a little happy.
"I know what I'm reading, kid," the middle-aged man replied lazily, waving the letter in his hand.
Ezekiel stood up quickly, curiosity sparking in his eyes. Who could have sent him a letter? He was an orphan who had spent his entire childhood serving as a soldier for the Baratav Kingdom. The thought of someone knowing his name and caring enough to write felt almost unreal.
Slowly, Ezekiel rose from his chair and made his way toward the middle-aged man. Countless thoughts swirled in his mind as he took the letter in his hands. His name was written neatly in the bottom left corner, along with the sender's name.
Purge.
"Huh… Purge?" he muttered, frowning in confusion.
Opening the mail, Ezekiel found a letter folded tightly and perfectly to fit inside the envelope, along with a silver ring. On the inner side of the ring was a small, curved engraving. Without wasting any time, Ezekiel set the envelope and ring on the table where he had been drinking and unfolded the letter.
"Let's see," he murmured, a small trace of happiness flickering in his voice.
That flicker vanished the moment he read the first paragraph. As his eyes moved down the page, cold sweat formed on his forehead.
Baratav will be destroyed by the Black Dragon of Helikos. The purge of the Baratav Kingdom will begin at midnight—the moment this letter is read. No one will believe you, no matter what you say.
You may try to spread this warning, but it will be in vain. The Black Dragon is already on its way to Redwood. By dawn, the Baratav Kingdom will fall to ash.
If you are fortunate enough to receive this letter of war, consider it a chance at life. The ring enclosed will shield you from the dragon's fire and claws—though only until the fall of your kingdom.
By order of King Valik R. Naurotov II of Helikos.
Ezekiel felt a twinge of disappointment. His first letter — and it turned out to be some joke meant to scare him. Even if it were real, it wouldn't matter; the Black Dragon of Helikos had been slain twenty years ago during a great war. With nothing else to do, he crumpled the paper and tossed it into the trash bin in the corner of the tavern.
"I'm not counting that as my first mail," he muttered, his tone laced with quiet sadness.
His gaze fell upon the ring resting on the table. Reaching for it, Ezekiel turned it in his hand, studying its details while sipping from his mug. There wasn't much to see — just the silver sheen and the curved engraving along the inner band.
"Well, this could make a decent souvenir," he murmured. "What a waste of money for a prank."
Not long after, a tall man clad in full knight's armor stepped into the tavern. A red cape draped over his shoulders, swaying slightly as he moved. His gaze swept across the room before locking onto Ezekiel.
It was his squad leader — Sir Gravis.
Ezekiel froze. Though a capable soldier, he was also known as quite the troublemaker. The moment he saw Sir Gravis, he knew — he was in trouble. Again.