On the fifteenth day after leaving the Monte Territory, the carriage procession was deep in the heartland of the Phlanis Kingdom.
The scenery before them was a stark contrast to the vast, clear autumn days of the Northern Territory.
A leaden-gray sky hung low.
On either side of the road, once-fertile fields now lay largely barren. The stalks of dead crops were strewn about, soaking in murky, stagnant water and emitting the sour stench of rot.
Occasionally, one or two stooped figures could be seen futilely digging through the mud, perhaps for an overlooked potato root or a wild vegetable that had managed to survive.
The villages were even more dilapidated.
Many mud-brick houses had collapsed, revealing their blackened frames like skeletons gnawed on by some great beast.
Even the houses that remained intact were mostly shuttered, devoid of life.
