Wilamo’s reliance on bloody methods of punishment inevitably left him vulnerable to charges of tyranny. While the rule of employing harsh laws during chaotic times is not without merit, the Commander of the Guard’s actions in purging rebels and rooting out corruption offered the people only a fleeting release for their pent-up hatred; he never secured their true allegiance. Even his supporters grew uneasy, fearing his conduct would be seen as a pursuit of personal vendettas and self-interest rather than an effort to establish the authority of the law or safeguard social justice and stability.

　　This atmosphere not only fueled radical thoughts among his fearful rivals but also amplified the chorus of opposition. Eventually, the warnings—both moderate and extremist—came to pass. Terrified that they might soon share the same fate, a group of men resolved to act. In the name of the King, they set out to "uproot the traitor," vowing to restore the order of the dynasty and reclaim the power that had been usurped from their sovereign.

　　During what appeared to be an ordinary court assembly, a courtier engaged Wilamo in a heated argument over land and taxation. As the arrogant Commander stepped down the dais to confront him, Nilbim—striking from behind—plunged a concealed dagger into Wilamo’s side. This first assailant, the one who struck the opening blow, was a man who had only risen to his high station before the King because of Wilamo’s own trust and patronage.

　　Wilamo collapsed to the floor with a pained groan, but the crowd had no intention of stopping. King Karinosas watched with profound satisfaction as the great power-broker lay bleeding in the dust. Once Wilamo was motionless, the King stepped forward, contemptuously planting a foot upon the corpse while a twisted, eerie smile crept across his face. The vengeance that followed proved beyond doubt that these men were merely venting their own malice rather than acting for the public good.

　　The King signed a bloody decree that effectively sealed the doom of the Willem Kingdom. Wilamo’s father was spared the slaughter, but he was forced to the execution grounds to watch, in agonizing helplessness, as several of his sons were led to the block. Officials who had once been promoted by Wilamo were subjected to various sanctions according to their rank—including Nilbim himself. No consideration was given to their talent or past service, though these were men who could have continued to serve the realm with their intellect and skill.

　　Once the King’s thirst for blood was slaked, he retreated once more into a life of lethargy. Neither secular nor religious affairs could stir his passion; occasionally, he would drift into a fantasy world over the wording of a poem, or sink into a drunken stupor. Under the reign of such a chaotic monarch, the lords acted with total impunity, while the barbarians watched with growing contempt and predatory eyes. The boundless luxury of the nobility and the soul-crushing poverty of the commoners reached a staggering extreme.

　　In the wake of the war, the Pilater Highlands were struck once again, this time by a ravaging plague. Far away in Hedlim, ensconced in the quiet comfort of his inner palace, the King maintained a posture of cold indifference to the tragedy unfolding in the distant lands, leaving his subjects to live or die by their own fate.

　　The region was devoid of physicians and medicines. In a desperate bid for survival, the populace abandoned their hollow dwellings, wandering aimlessly like wraiths—a movement that only served to accelerate the spread of the plague. Corpses lay abandoned by the roadsides, unattended, while the limbs of those hastily buried protruded from the earth, continuing to poison the air. Helpless and hollowed out, the people could do nothing but entrust their lives to the mercies of time and luck.

　　Yet, before the survivors could even find joy in their fortune, the tremors of barbarian incursions and war followed close behind. The shattered ramparts were no longer of any use; they stood as open gateways, inviting the newly risen kings of the north to march into the defenseless provinces. The very fears that Helles had harbored in ages past were finally visited upon his decadent descendants.

　　Karinosas passed away at the advanced age of nearly seventy. His long and stagnant reign had only deepened the kingdom's misfortunes, a period during which lords engaged in incessant infighting and annexation. Meanwhile, the rising Hasoda tribe grew confident in their own stratagems and valor. Their ruler, believing himself the equal of the southern Willem Dynasty, commanded his followers to address him as the "Great King."

　　In former times, to feign intimacy and dull the suspicions of their neighbors, barbarian tribes—including the Hasoda—had sent their young nobles to Hedlim and Monad. These youths eventually realized that while Hedlim’s opulence did not yet match the capital of the Semerians, the mutually suspicious Ferom nobility were certainly no models for a future king to emulate. They learned that a nation's strength lies in its response to peril, not in the mountain of gold and silver hidden within its treasuries.

　　Thus, these high-born barbarian youths were dispatched to the court of Willem. The King at that time was Chibenis Willem, son of Helles, who had inherited the throne and continued to expand the dynasty’s glory. From the frontier walls to the jungle natives of Sursar, all submitted to his will and authority. Chibenis had remained ever mindful of his father’s counsel: to maintain a ceaseless vigilance against the steppe tribes.

　　The King’s reception of these barbarians was a mixture of pleasure and suspicion; he feared that once they mastered the arts and wisdom of the Limidians, they would strike back. Nevertheless, the academies, barracks, and workshops of the Willem Dynasty opened their doors to them. The most outstanding among them were even permitted to fight alongside Limidian comrades and receive honors.

　　In the end, however, these barbarians concluded that the arts which brought convenience to life or pleasure to the soul were trivial, even detrimental; the refined air of the academies was merely self-indulgent vanity. Instead, they found that Limidian military science would be the most potent tool for a barbarian king to command an army. It seemed the ancient fears were well-founded.

　　As the chaotic troops of the Pilater lords ravaged Scoro, the Hasoda had already come to be seen as the arbiters of the steppes. Yet, the barbarian sovereign continued to mask his power with humility, still referring to himself merely as a "Chieftain." Through his studies, he had learned the wisdom of thriving through endurance and restraint. For years, the barbarian chieftains had consistently offered exotic beauties and treasures to the lords of Pilater, lulling their vigilance and carefully veiling their true selves.

　　Hadris, the Hasoda Chieftain, accepted bribes from the rebel lords during the war to maintain a facade of neutrality. Secretly, however, he directed a portion of the steppe tribes to join the rebel camp to serve as the vanguard for his future designs. The moment Hadris sensed a shift in the tide, he immediately mobilized his well-trained forces and appeared behind the rebels under the banner of "Protecting the King." He went so far as to send representatives to "persuade" the insurgent tribes to stand down—a performance that actually won him the favor of Wilamo.

　　Following Wilamo’s assassination, the impotence of the royalty, the arrogance of the lords, and the decadence of the courtiers pushed the Willem Dynasty into an irremediable state of decay. Yet, even in such a state, there were those who still coveted the hollow throne. Lacking the strength to seize it themselves, they turned to external powers for aid. With no direct heirs to the bloodline, the void of power fell to a distant branch of the royal family. Those supporters lurking in the shadows offered grand, high-sounding justifications, but their motives were entirely born of self-interest, with no thought for the public good.

　　The succeeding King was not only physically frail but also given to excessive indulgence; he met a wretched end at the hands of lowly slaves. The courtiers of Hedlim, seeking to emulate Wilamo, placed the crown upon the head of Nebilai Willem and hoisted him onto the throne. Yet, a mere month later, the commander of the palace guard—who was the mastermind of the plot—was sent to the block for treason by the Eastern lords, with several courtiers following him into the grave as his grim companions.

　　Subsequently, a coalition of lords, marching under the banner of "Protecting the King," entered the Great Highlands. With the royal carriages and full ceremonial rites, they welcomed a youth into the palace of Hedlim, claiming his lineage could be traced back to the illustrious Kalaurens Willem.

　　But regardless of his pedigree, this King was destined to be a mere puppet. When the crown upon his head ceased to yield profit or became an obstacle, he was doomed to be cast aside once more, his successor merely repeating the same tragic cycle. In a span of only nine months, six members of the royal house became piteous sacrifices in quick succession.

　　The last was Laustris. As he sat by the water’s edge angling, the thunder of hooves shattered the tranquility. He was forced to obey a written command from an envoy and the blades of the retinue, leaving his life of ease forever. The old man could not withstand the rigors of the journey; furthermore, the escort was attacked mid-way by rivals, leaving Laustris so consumed by terror that he bid farewell to this chaotic world before ever setting foot in Hedlim. Yet, the misfortune brought by his death far outweighed that of his six predecessors.

　　Though these lords held the King’s authority in contempt, they maintained a facade of respect for the Great Highlands, at least ensuring the region remained untouched by steel and fire. The helpless and numb populace watched the ever-changing banners atop the city walls with an air of fatalism. The death of Laustris, however, tore away the mask of pretense. Kabisaris, Willyn, and Lavodel, who had escorted the unfortunate old man, were accused by other lords of being the King’s murderers.

　　Public condemnation is often merely the prelude to military aggression. As the lords played out their dramas of alliance and confrontation, Hedlim and the Great Highlands lost the sanctity and authority they once held. People looked back through the annals of history, recalling the golden age when the Willem Dynasty adorned the streets of the City of the Sun with the totems and idols of foreign races—a sight that filled Limidians with pride and left foreign envoys trembling with unease.

　　The troops guarding the royal city had grown indolent and indifferent; soldiers and officers alike willingly served as laborers or pursued other trades just to make ends meet. An infantry centurion might serve as a chef in a nobleman's house due to his culinary skills, while a chariot driver might frequent the markets and noble stables as a horse-trader. When the lords' armies arrived in force, these guards would immediately swap the banners on the walls, or even hand over the city's defenses directly to the newcomers.

　　Through a victory in a localized skirmish, Kabisaris’s forces managed to keep the lords at the negotiating table for a time. His rival, Count Vidalim, was elected commander of the opposing camp, striking a pose as if ready for a final showdown with Kabisaris.

　　Vidalim himself possessed no military talent, yet through his personal charisma, he gathered a circle of capable men to strategize for him. His family traced its roots to Kolod Inmer, a follower who, though born with a limp, was a master of troop deployment and had won great merit advising Brill and other commanders. After the wars, Kolod had held high office in the Willem court and was later granted a fief in Feriatino, a land very close to the homeland of the Pandirians.

　　However, this seemingly illustrious and loyal family had maintained a highly suspicious neutrality during the struggle between Karinosas and Wilamo. During negotiations, Vidalim consistently used purple ink for both public and secret correspondence, which only deepened the suspicions of others. Those involved in the talks strictly followed the etiquette of the Willem era, giving the meetings a veneer of friendliness. Yet, both the faction of Marquis Galadimus (of the Kabisaris party) and Count Vidalim’s camp placed their ultimate hopes on Willyn.

　　The former waited in anxiety for his aid, while the latter exerted every effort to entice him away from the rival camp. Lawol of Willyn wavered in his indecision, prompting the forces of Rizelier and Nismel to advance upon his city, Dirbis. After two clashes, Willyn intended to seek peace with these two allies of Vidalim and dispatched envoys, claiming he wished to let tongues replace the weapons in soldiers' hands, using a trade of interests to reach an accord and dispel mutual fears.

　　In truth, Lawol’s envoys were merely exercising their mastery of sophistry, stalling at the negotiating table beneath the walls while hoping to draw Kabisaris and his faction into the fray. However, the arguments of the Willyn envoys provoked such resentment that the opposition turned to conspiracy. Lord Kabisaris, following his subordinates' advice, offered only hollow promises.

　　One of Willyn’s retainers, Bisales, took a sum of money from the eloquent envoys and, driven by a shameful impulse, plotted to betray his lord. Lawol, out of appreciation and trust, had entrusted the security of his lands and family to Bisales; now, the man sought to usurp his patron’s station. Yet, in this decadent age, such things seemed commonplace. Bisales intended to use his patron's lands to buy the favor and support of the enemy.

　　Just as he was full of self-calculation, fully armed soldiers burst into his tent, and without a word, Bisales was decapitated. Count Vidalim, arriving with his army, saw the traitor’s head beneath the walls alongside a shell-shocked envoy from Nismel. Though his heart raged with curses, he had to cast aside all illusions and hesitation; he had to defeat the garrison of Dirbis to secure a favorable bargaining chip for himself.

　　After a hard-fought struggle, the Count’s soldiers planted their provincial banner on the walls of Dirbis, only to have it swiftly cast down by their opponents. Rizelier and Nismel committed their heavy equipment to the battle; siege engines hurled spear-like bolts and stones at the walls, while robust soldiers battered the city gates with metal-shod rams. Oxen, under the constant lash, strained to pull two mobile wooden towers forward.

　　Count Lawol employed every means to repel the assault. Although wounded in the fight, he distributed rewards to meritorious soldiers upon the battlements and ordered the musicians to play cheerful music, hoping to sustain their courage and confidence.

　　After a period of anxious standoff, Kabisaris and his faction abandoned their wait-and-see posture. Realizing the fierce struggle had not only weakened their rivals but also ended Willyn's wavering through his losses, they appeared near Dirbis under the pretext of "rescue." This forced Feriatino and his supporters to withdraw from Willyn, carrying away their wounded and their dead.

　　Yet Vidalim remained confident. Even if the campaign against Willyn had made no headway, he could still concentrate his forces to compel the weak Lavodel to submit, thereby forcing Kabisaris to yield.

　　Had his allies not disagreed with him and acted on their own—resorting to their old tricks and provoking Lord Lavodel—Vidalim’s military plan would not have failed, and he surely would have shattered the rival camp. His Pandirian allies, disgruntled by the lack of spoils, raised a clamor of protest, and he was forced to pay them a sum of money just to send them home.

　　However, the troops of Rizelier and Nismel, while retreating, attacked the defenseless Nigaled. This senseless act was born purely of a need to vent their rage; it did nothing to improve the situation and instead stained their own honor and renown. In the Willem era, this unassuming little town had been a royal fief, where industrious farmers tilled fertile soil and the residents lived simple, quiet lives.