A weary man in his late 50s sits cross-legged on the parched, cracked earth of Olungwe's once-vibrant grand courtyard, his regal yet tired visage marked by gaunt cheeks and tear-streaked skin. His head is freshly shaven, revealing a battle-scarred scalp, and he is draped in tattered robes of deep gray that speak of mourning and despair. The vast golden fields of the kingdom, now faded, droop under a somber gray sky. In the distance, villagers dressed in muted hues stand in silence, their faces a mixture of fear and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust around the man, carrying whispers of sorrow as it passes through the somber gathering.