Gelacian Kryptos had been walking the lengths of the kingdom for days. His clothes had become ragged and his footsteps ricocheting a crunching sound of twigs, debris stuck up in the minor grooves of the soles of his boots.
His hood though, was in a well enough condition to cover his identity. Quite convenient.
The World Energy core's instability has already started a chain reaction of sock from mages throughout the kingdom, bless the man who started all this.
Word passed around of the end of the Age of Magic, the fall of the Kingdom of Ritia, the end of the succession of Finz. Mages all around the Kingdom had been gathering in hordes and demanding answers from the Archmage, who, in turn was as perplexed as they were.
However, Gelacian Kryptos was unwavered, his resolve staggering.