Hundreds of years ago, somewhere in the north of the Mortal Plain Continent.
Climbing up a ladder, a young aspirant, sturdy yet calm, reached the top of the battle wall. Once stepping foot on the stone path, he noticed stationed in every crevice of the wall were archers, ready to attack any oncoming enemy.
Some were young cadets, nervously awaiting battle. Others were old and roughed-up veterans, only wanting to go home and find peace.
This tall young man, in his early twenties, began walking across the tower tops, as every soldier quickly stood and saluted him.
"Lord!" One young man exclaimed, standing up straight. His chin faced the sky as he slammed his foot on the ground.
He put one of his hands out to the side, opening his palm to face the young man whom he addressed as 'lord.'
