The warm first day of spring was bearing down on the land known as Shiandrin. It was a day of new beginnings, but with every new beginning, there was an end. The thing that ended that day was more than winter; it was something good in many ways, lord Sorena’s life. Lord Sorena had been the oldest living lord amongst a dozen others. He had protected and helped the land and people of Taragen until the end. Only a week ago he became deathly ill. After no man could deduce what was wrong with him, he merely awaited his demise. When at last death dragged him into a chilly embrace the commoners of Taragen were horrified. Their savior had fallen. Our story begins in the city of Ovena in Taragen, located under the lord’s castle, where the masses were gathered near the center of the city…

    A large wooden stage had been erected just recently in the center of Ovena. On it were three chairs, each with a man sitting in it patiently. These men belonged in the lord’s army. They were malicious and sadistic men who were loathed and detested, yet each of them stated a claim to the title of lord. As the commoners gathered around the front of the stage a man in formal attire stepped onto it, he was a herald of a kind. He would be delivering the final wishes of Sorena, more importantly, who would be replacing him as lord of Taragen. The people gathered began to quiet down and listen as the herald began to shout.

     “As requested by lord Sorena, I am to deliver the name of the new lord of Taragen! It was his final wishes that the lord of Taragen was not only wise, caring, and protective of his people, but strong enough for his people! If said person refused such an honor, then it will fall to one of the generals of his army! And this person is…” shouted the herald to the crowd. The people were on their toes as the messenger rolled open a scroll.

     “Ikbar Ongren!” shouted the herald. He folded the scroll, stepped off the stage, and disappeared. The generals all rose at once, looking enraged. Ikbar was only in his late twenties, they thought he was too young. Worst of all for them, he was a kind hearted youthful gentleman. The generals marched off stage and immediately headed for the castle, where Ikbar would be preparing for ceremonies ahead. The commoners began to disperse and workers started to take apart the stage…