Hadrata, the capital city, within a luxurious fortress, Mortan suddenly woke up from his bed, his whole body drenched in cold sweat.
He dreamed of wizards using magic to create an abundance of bread, and then the wheat in his own hands became worthless...
But how could that be possible?
Using magic to make bread was simply a wild fantasy!
Mortan wiped the sweat from his brow with trembling hands and struggled to sit up in bed, but he quickly noticed that something was amiss.
"Baxi... Baxi!" Mortan repeatedly called out the name of the estate's steward, but got no response. It took a good while before a knight rushed over.
"Lord Mortan, you're awake?"
"Where's Baxi? Where did he go?!" Mortan anxiously questioned, grabbing the knight's arm.
"He left half an hour ago... and... and he took your favorite glazed wine pot with him..."
