Before the imposing walls of Nabad, the grand capital of Ushandeia, an army of five thousand men stood in disciplined formation. The shimmering ranks of spears and shields glinted in the late afternoon sun, and the banners of Habadia fluttered proudly in the wind, each one bearing the sigil of the silver crown. The soldiers' faces were hard, their gazes unwavering as they stared at the city that marked the end of their long campaign.
Between the imposing army and the gates of Nabad, a simple wooden table had been set up on the plain. The table was unassuming, almost laughable in its simplicity compared to the grand spectacle of the forces arrayed behind it.
