You send a rider to reclaim the Sky Iron Knife from the sarcophagus of your father.
867 AD, Autumn
He returns a week later, visibly exhausted, but he pulls a length of cloth from beneath his tunic and unwraps it. It is the Sky Iron Knife, the one forged by dwarves for your father from the pieces of rock that fell from the sky and landed in the royal forest.
"My liege! I also bring report from the Augas; the other half of the Army managed to crush the invading Parsians from the north in a big battle, but few skirmishes later they had to retreat a little southwards, and currently they engage in various skirmishes and raids against the Parsians who claim the entrance of the valley and surrounding mountain paths." He takes off his hat.
"I also bring bad news from the palace, sire, as your youngest daughter, the little Lynda, perished of a fever." You let out a sigh as you have hard time to be really moved by this - after all, you didn't even see the child.
Next morning, one of the sneakier scouts returns from the east.
"My liege! Parsians are on the move. They're heading this way, most of them true Parsian spearmen and archers, but there is also the entourage of the Cortana, with her riding her vile dog alongside the Parsian commander!"
"What are their numbers?" One of your own commanders asks the obvious question.
"There were many, but I swear to all Gods that there couldn't be than a hundred score of them." Another mumbles calculations quietly before speaking up:
"We have advantage in numbers, sire, if the scout is right; about three of us to one Parsian."
"You forget their greatest advantage," says another, "the Sorceress in their midst." There's a short argument amongst the commanders, before you decide to...
A) March the Army into the field and attack aggressively!
B) Prepare a well-defended position to wear them down.
C) Send an envoy to the Parsians.