In the Utessar Kingdom, in a territory located in the kingdom's northern reaches, a magnificent castle stood tall.
Inside that castle, in a richly furnished study, a father and son were deep in discussion.
"Father, what do we do now? The king's conscription order arrived in our territory this afternoon."
The speaker was Torin Ashvale, son of Earldom Falkor Ashvale.
"What else can we do?" Falkor replied. "We must obey. We'll rally our knights and militia as best we can. Our territory is on the far outskirts of the human kingdom. Under normal circumstances, we do well trading with other races, and the big nobles see us as a juicy target. But now that war's upon us, look how fast they all run off."
Earldom Falkor Ashvale stood by the study window, gazing at the city he'd long called his own. His tone carried both complaint and worry. He couldn't help but ache inside, knowing his land would soon be engulfed by a conflict sweeping across the entire continent.
