A man in his late 50s, with a regal yet weary presence, sits cross-legged on the parched ground of Olungwe's once-majestic courtyard. His gaunt cheeks glisten with trails of tears, and his freshly shaved head reveals an old scar from a long-past battle. Cloaked in tattered mourning robes of deep gray, he embodies despair. The fields of his kingdom, once golden, now stretch out in faded hues, the stalks bowing under a cheerless gray sky. In the distance, villagers garbed in muted colors observe silently, their eyes reflecting a mixture of dread and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust around him, carrying the soft murmurs of sorrow.