From the dawn of time, the history of the human race was predetermined. The strongest wins. The cunning one survives. A harsh world raised on such an order. There will be no other. Knights wander here, whose nobility fits on the coat of arms. There is no place for gray-bearded magicians whispering spells here. Others live here, accustomed to the idea that the power of ore magic is deceptive. That her true strength, hidden behind the enthusiasm of the masses and the prestige of the noble house, was her ability to adapt. Here high lords play their own games, casually deciding the fate of the kingdom. Here the truth will drown in blood, trampled on the battlefield. It is often crowded here and then everything comes into play. And a sword. And magic. But more often the word is that it is deadlier than poison. It's a wonderful world. And there will be no other. While the sword and the whip rule.