“Adventurers wanted! The Crown in need of heroes! Calling all brave souls to the City of Light! Big rewards!” The words were repeated countless times by town criers from all across the human nations. Outside of every tavern, court or arena they stood, bringing the news of an extraordinary summoning of brave souls to the capital of Liaryn and the human nations. Upon further questioning, one would find him or herself directed to a hastily built recruitment office near the town hall.
In one such recruitment office sat Brandal, scratching the bald spot at the top of his head. “Another child sent to the king… What in the name of Mori’s Madness does he need all these people for?” The ageing man let out a sigh and picked up his pipe, letting out a few puffs of smoke before the door opened again, a pair of young men entering. “Kyank save their souls,” he muttered, looking up at the men with a practiced smile. “So you’re looking to serve king and country?”
A few doors down from the recruitment office lay a small tavern. A hearth crackled delightfully in the corner, men laughed and talked over mugs of ale, and a young barmaid weaved around the men, replacing empty mugs and adding her commentary to their conversations. At the bar stood a large man, a grin plastered on his face as he handed out stronger drink to a few regulars. The moustache on his lip leapt in time with his roaring laughter, adding a humorous aura to the barkeep. From time to time he would glance at the door, as if expecting someone. On a post next to the bar hung a poster, repeating the words of the town criers.
“Never liked that they required me to have that in here,” he grumbled, pointing a dirty rag at the poster. “Too many fools think fighting is a valiant cause.” Around him the men nodded in agreement, raising their mugs to him. “Ah, cheers for being old, fat and working!” The tavern echoed with the sound of clattering mugs and the laughter of men.