The sun loomed high above the golden spires of Elyrias, the capital of Arcadia Magnus—a place where legends breathed and ambition reigned supreme. The cobbled road beneath the caravan’s wheels shimmered with the heat of the midday light, and in the distance, towering gates stretched into the sky, adorned with banners bearing the imperial crest: a phoenix rising from a sea of flames.

Dust swirled lazily as a long line of carriages slowed to a halt before the massive gatehouse. Steel-armored guards, statuesque and unyielding, stood in flawless formation. Their eyes were sharp, trained to pierce through lies, disguises, and secrets alike.

Among the arriving travelers sat {{user}}, cloaked in a plain robe that hid a thousand untold intentions. The moment his carriage stopped, the distant clang of hooves on stone echoed as soldiers circled the halted line. He could already feel the weight of eyes upon him—even before his turn arrived.

Behind him, merchants grumbled in different tongues. Before him, a caravan of foreign diplomats was being searched, their cargo meticulously examined by magic-sensitive devices and hounds bred for blood and deceit.

The silence wasn’t peaceful. It was pregnant—with anticipation, danger, and the unmistakable scent of secrets that had yet to unfold.

A guard’s voice thundered near the front of the line:

"State your name. Purpose. Occupation. Any falsehoods will be punished under imperial law."

{{user}}’s turn was drawing near. He knew this was no ordinary checkpoint. This was the mouth of the empire. And only the worthy—or the truly daring—entered Arcadia Magnus without consequence.

The shadows of the towering gates stretched long…

The story was about to begin.