Halrix Durnshade, a fifty three-year-old man with a commanding presence, sat on his throne, his medieval-style clothing and fur-padded coat draped over his broad shoulders.
His shadow stretched down the stairs of the platform, a dark silhouette against the warm orange light flooding the hall from the sun.
Sett, a blue-haired man, stood at the center of the hall, feeling the biting cold despite the sun's rays.
The mocking gaze of the crowd, all clad in woolen coats to ward off the chill, bore down on him like the weight of an armor.
Halrix's deep voice dripped with amusement as he declared, "Sett, you will be exiled to the Pone wilderness to live out your days. Consider this, a father's last act of mercy."
The crowd erupted into a cacophony of whispers, their voices echoing off the hall's stone walls.
"He was found trying to kill his father's woman in his father's chambers! Isn't he supposed to be beheaded publicly?" Someone in the crowd frowned.
"Ha! He found his childhood sweetheart, a woman everyone knew he would marry on his father's bed." A man retorted, although his expression was one of amusement. "True mercy would be to behead him but that is the last thing the duke would do."
Sett clenched his teeth, his hands tightening into fists as he glared at his father, Halrix and his elder brother, Tyrion.
As unseemly as it looked, this man and his son were his family members.
"I accept this punishment." He forced those words out of his lips. He just transmigrated into this world along with several thousand individuals from earth and was given a city stele to become a lord.
He should've appeared in his territory—but instead, woke in a prison, flooded with painful memories.
Tyrion chuckled. "You would wish to swallow these words soon." He veered off to the armoured guards manning strategic ends of the hall.
"Take this bastard. Cover his face and bundle him to the Pone wilderness. Make sure you go deep enough so he won't find his way out." Tyrion's voice dripped with malice as he ordered Sett's exile, a broad smile spreading across his face. The guards moved swiftly, grabbing Sett and dragging him away.
As they restrained him, Sett's eyes shut, his mind racing with thoughts of the city stele hidden in his leather pants.
Memories of the previous owner of this body flooded his mind, fragmented and unclear, but one thing was certain: Halrix's wife had been framed for birthing a bastard after returning from an expedition.
Unfortunately, the circumstances were suspicious, and Sett knew he might be a product of that deceit.
The guards tossed him into a prison wagon, and Sett's body jerked against the hard wooden floor as it lurched forward.
The darkness enveloped him, oppressive and suffocating. He opened his eyes, straining to see something, anything, but there was nothing.
Only darkness stared back at him, an unyielding void that seemed to swallow him whole. The wagon continued on its journey, the sound of creaking wood and clattering hooves echoing through the darkness.
'Pone wilderness is the biggest untamed land in the continent. Filled with mysteries and beasts of all kinds, some can rip a knight apart.'
A hot burst of air escaped Sett's lips as the prison wagon swayed violently, throwing him from side to side. The rough road indicated they had left the city behind. His hope rested on the city stele hidden in his leather pants.
"In this world, some people awaken aspects, but I happened to have nothing," Sett thought, recalling the look in his father's eyes when he discovered he had nurtured him for nothing.
The iron door creaked open, and Sett's eyes grew wide as the sack cloth over his face was illuminated by the brilliant glow of the sun.
"Bring the bastard out," Tyrion's voice ordered. Sett grimaced as the guards dragged him, the rustling of grass beneath his legs indicating they were moving deeper into the wilderness.
They tied him to a tree, and Sett's confusion turned to alarm as he noticed the guards stacking twigs, dried grass, and straws around him.
Tyrion chuckled, holding three scaled eggs, each roughly 8 inches at its widest point and 22 inches in height.
"These eggs were brought by my mother when she returned with you," Tyrion said, his voice dripping with malice.
"We thought they were dragon eggs, but it turns out they're just relics, over 400 years old. Slightly special rocks, nothing more."
Tyrion smiled, caressing the eggs, before tossing them into the heap of straw and twigs. "Since you came with them, why don't you also leave with them?" Sett's coarse tunic became damp with cold sweat as he pleaded with Tyrion.
"Tyrion… please." He whispered, his voice ragged hoarse, his face sweaty.
Tyrion burst into laughter, clutching his stomach. His face turned red, and even the guards were affected by the contagious laughter. After a moment, Tyrion's laughter subsided. A flameball suddenly appeared, hovering a couple of inches above his palm, its heat washing over his face.
"Don't scream like a woman," Tyrion sneered, and the flame engulfed the tree. Sett's screams pierced the serene woods as Tyrion and his men departed, the roaring flames casting a bright orange glow behind them.