A man in his late 50s with a regal yet weary demeanor sits cross-legged on the cracked, parched earth of Olungwe's majestic courtyard. His gaunt cheeks, streaked with tears, highlight the fresh scar on his shaven head, a reminder of battles fought and lost. Draped in mourning robes of deep gray, he wears his despair like a shadow. Surrounding him, the golden fields of the kingdom appear faded, their once proud stalks now drooping beneath a dull, oppressive sky. In the distance, villagers dressed in muted tones watch in silence, their faces a blend of fear and reverence. A gentle breeze stirs the dust around him, carrying whispers of sorrow that echo through the air.