All the first eras have sunk into oblivion. And the third is already moving towards its apogee. Ancient legends and myths are rising from their graves. Lords, mired in intrigue, are ready to play their game. A terrible infection is spreading across the lands of the living. And you're just a sliver. The cog of the wheel that, by inertia, is still rolling forward... - Eh? It means you will be the killer of the cold ones? Yesterday the wolfhounds stole my goat, can you return it? — The old man naively leaned forward and scratched his bald patch. I looked into his eyes with skepticism: “Are you serious?”