Many visitors, laying eyes upon the mighty fortress of Greifberg looming over the city of Svartrau, gape in disbelief. Impossible, they whisper under their breaths, shaking their heads, how could anyone have erected this tremendous castle at such dizzying height, over such a steep precipice? How could anyone have achieved it? And at what cost?
And indeed, building this wonder claimed many lives. Some by accident: dozens of workers fell to their deaths, dozens more were crushed by falling stones. Yet others were punished for their shortcomings: architects beheaded for missing deadlines, carpenters nailed alive to their crooked scaffolds.
Such is the way of the Dragosti: whatever they set their minds to, they will accomplish at any price, bowing to no criticisms, heeding no advice. They rule Vale Sangora with an iron fist, and the foreboding castle they built among the clouds serves as an apt symbol of their indisputable dominance.
