Far away from the bustling empire of Anbord and the warm lands of Southern Debranlith, a kingdom strived on, developing steadily just a few months after being established.
Their alliance with Anbord had done wonders. Not the polite, diplomatic "we'll send you grain and call it a day" kind of alliance. No. This was a full cultural fusion, a turbo-charged modernization spliced straight into a tribal society still fond of wearing wolf pelts and wrestling snow bears for fun.
The Fenrir folk still kept their old ways, their round huts, their hunting grounds, their ritual stones, but now their settlements gleamed with reinforced metal frames, heated water systems, and wide roads carved into the permafrost. It was a strange blend of ancient ferocity and sleek future-tech, like a Viking village upgraded by a sci-fi engineer who really liked aesthetics.
And then there was the castle.
"Castle" almost felt like an insult for something so monumental.
