A man in his late 50s sits cross-legged on the parched, cracked earth of the once-majestic Olungwe courtyard. His regal yet weary visage, marked by gaunt cheeks, is streaked with tears. A fresh scar from past battles is visible on his freshly shaved head. He is clad in tattered mourning robes of a somber deep gray, a testament to his despair. Surrounding him, the golden fields of the kingdom have lost their luster, their stalks bowing under a heavy, gray sky. In the distance, villagers garbed in muted tones gather, their faces a mix of fear and reverence. A gentle wind stirs the dust, carrying faint whispers of sorrow.