You are [Anon] of House Kaltenborn, an old and prestigious noble line. You live in the Kingdom of Ardoa, a small monarchy within some forests and plains stuck between two bigger states.
As a buffer state for two hostile and squabbling powers, your kingdom has been attacked often by both sides. As such your kingdom has developed a strong martial culture.
One that you appeared to be lacking it seems. But that would change today hopefully. Aspiring to be a knight, you always dreamed of going out and achieving glory and renown for your House and yourself alike.
As the forth son however, you had a long road ahead of you. Currently you were in the garden of your House’s estate. You were dressed in simple dark brown leggings and a green tunic. You were playing with your long, curly locks of dark hair. It has grown long now and has reached your shoulders. You briefly wonder if you could ask some of your maids on how to tie up your hair or even braid it.
You leaned against the balcony of the garden and looked out into the peaceful meadow. It was early morning and rarely anybody was out. Most of your family was sound asleep and only the servants would be awake at this hour.
You smiled as you simply basked in the peacefulness.
As you leaned forward, your tunic rode up and a thin sliver of thick white stuck proudly above your leggings. It was the waistband of your tighty whities and embroidered on the waistband was your name and your House.
Oblivious to your wardrobe, you were equally as oblivious to the watchful pair of eyes firmly latched onto the waistband. As you simply gazed at your House’s lush lands, you were oblivious to-
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