The Sixth Century was defined by near-endless war between the Sister Kingdoms. Arekosh and Raymont fought near-constantly, and, although the constant fighting rarely escalated above borderlands skirmishes, it led to widespread, brutal destruction when it did. Many men were, as one poet put it, "baptized and buried in war." This constant, low-intensity combat could not continue forever, however, and soon, one of the kingdoms would certainly assert dominance over the other.
-The History of the Isle Kingdoms-
Working the bellows is hard, menial labor, but it's hardly complicated. As the hunk of steel slowly begins to heat up, your mind drifts towards other, more interesting matters. Not that many interesting things happen here, of course, but still. Sadly, before you can get too lost in thought, you're jerked awake by heavy footfalls outside. A quick glance shows that the footsteps are originating from a single man, most likely a farmer, sprinting towards the center of town. Strange. Most people don't run around the village like that.
You glance at your father, and, after a moment, he grunts in acceptance. Abandoning the bellows, you head outside, and follow the man. In fact, a small crowd is forming, wondering what's so urgent. The man runs up to the
ledare, the town's elder, and starts to speak, firing off the words like an archer. The ledare calms the farmer, politely asking him to repeat his story. Once he's heard the story again, he hands the man a nearby jug of water, before turning to address the growing crowd.
"A raiding party is approaching from across the river. Gather your
levas and prepare for battle. Once you are ready, report to the muster field, and steel yourselves."
By the time he's finished speaking, the entire crowd has dissipated. You race home, explain the situation to your father, and quickly gather together your household's
leva gear. A simple iron spear, a dagger, a wooden shield, and, because of your father's prosperity, a gambeson for armor. In spite of the graveness of this situation, you can't help but imagine how you must look.
The dashing young warrior, ready to win fortune and glory. Of course, when you strike a pose for your father, he doesn't agree. Instead, he mutters something that sounds an awful lot like "idiot's going to get himself killed." Regardless, you make your way to the marching ground, smiling at all the charming young ladies as you walk. One or two smile back. Not too bad.
The ledare smiles when you arrive. "Ah, Arthur. Good to have you. The rest of the men should be here soon." You fall into line, next to two of your friends, Cia and Morgan. Cia is the carpenter's apprentice, while Morgan has his own (tiny) farm. After a few moments of awkward silence, Cia begins to speak. "So, excited, Art? A chance to win fortune, glory, women?" Morgan chuckles.