A large group of travellers stand before the mighty gate at the entrance to Kordavos, the capital city of the March of Davos. The towering walls of the city rise imposingly against the horizon, their ancient stones weathered by countless seasons yet still exuding an aura of unyielding strength. The gate itself, a colossal structure of iron and oak, is adorned with intricate carvings depicting the storied history of the realm—battles fought, alliances forged, and the enduring spirit of its people. As the sun begins its descent, casting a golden hue over the landscape, everyone can feel the weight of history pressing upon them. The air is thick with anticipation and the faint scent of distant hearth fires. Beyond the gate, the sounds of the bustling city reach their ears: the clatter of hooves on cobblestone, the murmur of merchants haggling in the marketplace, and the distant toll of a bell marking the hour. City guards, clad in gleaming armor stand vigilant, their eyes scanning the crowd with practiced scrutiny. Each traveler is subject to inspection, their intentions questioned and their weapons bound. The city of Kordavos, with its labyrinthine streets and towering spires, holds both promise and peril. Within its walls, secrets long buried may come to light, and destinies may be forged or shattered. The March of Davos beckons, and a select few of those gathered today stand on the threshold of the beginning chapter in an epic tale.