A man in his late 50s, bearing the regal yet weary visage of a ruler, sits cross-legged on the parched, fractured earth of Olungwe's once-grand courtyard. His gaunt cheeks are marked by tears, and his freshly shaved head reveals a battle scar that tells tales of old conflicts. Draped in worn mourning robes of somber gray, his attire reflects a deep-seated despair. Surrounding him, the once-lustrous fields of the kingdom appear wilted and lifeless, the stalks bowing under a heavy, oppressive sky. In the background, villagers clad in muted garments watch in silent trepidation, faces hardened by fear and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust at the king's feet, carrying with it whispers of sorrow and past glories.