A man in his late 50s, regal yet weary, holds a commanding presence despite the tears streaking his gaunt cheeks. His recently shaven head reveals a prominent scar from an ancient battle. Draped in tattered mourning robes of deep gray, he sits cross-legged on the parched, cracked earth of Olungwe's grand courtyard. The once-vibrant golden fields of the kingdom now appear dull and lifeless, their stalks sagging beneath a heavy gray sky. In the distance, villagers clothed in somber hues stand silently, their expressions a mix of fear and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust around the king, carrying faint whispers of sorrow through the air.