Iron Hearth Castle – Main Dining Hall. Night – One Year Since the "Era of Peace" Began.
If there was one sound that dominated the halls of Iron Hearth Castle tonight, it was not the rhythmic clanging of practice swords or the thunderous booms of Magitech experiments. Instead, it was the sound of excessive, borderline obnoxious, baby kisses.
"Mwah! Mwah! Oh, who's the handsome boy? Who is it? Is it Papa's little soldier? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!"
General Riven Sudrath—a man whose very name could cause a seasoned bandit to lose control of his bladder—was currently making the most ridiculous, distorted face imaginable. He was crossed-eyed, sticking his tongue out, and bobbing his head in front of his infant son, Kaelven, who sat regally in a high-backed mahogany high-chair.
Kaelven erupted into a fit of giggles, his tiny hands smeared with orange carrot puree. He reached out and slapped Riven's rugged, scarred cheek with a wet, sticky thwack.
