It was not by chance, nor under the public light of a rising sun, that the four thrones of the South had knit their fates together. They came like wolves driven by different hungers to the same kill.
The Sun of Oizen sought to cast a shadow not of their making alone seeking to swallow those who had dared to dim its luster. The Bull of Kakunia moved in, fearing the sharp-toothed cub he had once nurtured in his own pen. The Twin Towers of Habadia stood tall , demanding the South look to them as sheep look to the shepherd, while the Cock of Ezvania crowed a shrill accompaniment, a bird bought and paid for by Habadian gold.
With oaths of friendship that tasted of copper and lies, they had marched. They sought to put the torch to every forest and thicket where the Fox might find his hole. Four armies. Four crowns. One enemy.
Yet, in the shadows deeper than any alliance, there stirred a fifth.
