The small creek babbled next to Atlas, as he took a drink from a green bottle. The air was clean, and had almost a sweet flavor. Disgusting. Vrondi was never his favorite kingdom, and the air after the assassination was...discomforting. Atlas was a stranger in these lands, and for all the native inhabitants knew, another assassin. He sat beneath a tree, resting before continuing his journey. He picked up a fruit that had fallen from the tree, and took a bite. Tasted like sugar. Letting loose a sigh, he pulled out a tattered piece of paper that had various lines and characters inscribed on it. Groaning, he got up, wondering what he had done to deserve a visit to this kingdom

Dragons flew overhead. Dragons. Atlas figured he could tame one, should he try. But none of them had caught his interest. Lost in thought, Atlas ran into a tree. Of course. This entire kingdom was covered in trees. Atlas wasn't used to the sight of vegetation, but he wasn't used to a lot of things. His travels had taken him across Nero, but now he had to venture into unknown territory. Recovering from the incident, Atlas looked around. He was in a village. The central village. With the big tree. A city, a capital. Whatever you call it. Letting loose another groan, Atlas carried on into the mist populated area in the kingdom.