Outside Grimjaw Forest…
"Uncle, why do the tribes need to go to war?" Vlad, the youngest son of the chieftain of the Warclaw Tribe, asked. "Can't we all just get along?"
The sheltered fourteen-year old had been sent by his father to Grimjaw Mountain to make him understand the cruelty of this world.
The chieftain hoped that after returning from this trip, his son would no longer be so naive as to believe that the barbarian tribes could get along just fine.
"Young Lord, as long as the barbarian tribes are not united under one banner, these kinds of conflicts will never cease to exist," Zed, the young boy's guardian, replied. "It is also the chieftain's greatest wish to lead the tribes under the banner of the Warclaw Tribe. That way, these kinds of conflict will be prevented."
Zed made sure the representatives of the other high-ranking tribes could hear his words, which made Gundar and Marcus glance at his direction.
