Philippe Hakon van der Sainte-Blandine lay sitting on a rigid, uncomfortable cedar chair in the study of Caer der Hoden. He was well informed of the rising tensions between the nations of men and dwarves, and aptly knew that an armed confrontation was nigh certain - after all, Dwarves always fulfill their grudges, be it against a swindling merchant or a brash Emperor. Thousands were to die over a dispute between ten hot-headed skirmishers, a dispute that could have been settled with a conversation rather than a war. But was it truly about a pack of half-men being denied elven ears, or was it something more ingrained, something that could not be settled in a single meeting? The truth, Philippe knew, was that Urguan simply practiced a way of life that was diametrically opposed to that of the Empire's. And where there is disparity, there is turmoil.
The Baron of Caer der Hodenn was not idle during the prologue to war, he was writing letters for numerous requisitions. Food, horses, pack animals, camp supplies and other provisions needed to transport and keep his men fed. The clicking of leather shoes against the stone brick floor of the castle resounded as one of his bannermen barged into the study bearing parchment. The Footman performed a crisp salute;
"News from Urguan, my liege. The Irehearts have sworn revenge on the Emperor."
"Dismissed."
Even in spite of his giddiness, Philippe kept a stoic composure. His man saluted once more and exited the room. Reading the contents of the letter, Philippe smiled the sun's smile at the prospect of another feast for crows.
"So it begins."