Rughoi brushed past his prying generals and almost ran to the throne room. He pushed open the doors and looked in wonder. There it was, within the slightly damaged walls and melancholy air, a tall and glorious gilded throne. Rughoi took one step towards it in awe, then another, and before he knew it his left claw brushed against one of the armrests. He felt as if the spirits of those who had sat there before him were calling his name, offering their advice and inviting him to succeed them. When he rested on the throne, something in him changed. He truly felt like Rughoi the Unbound.

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Days later, news of the battle reached the Fertile Valley. Krakas listened intently in the middle of the crowd, trying to focus on the words of the herald. Her eyes widened in shock as she heard one name. Rughoi. Pushing her way out, she rushed to a carriage station. "Take me to Traeton," she commanded, slamming a bag of coins on the table. "I need to speak with my son.