You take a deep breath, and inhale the acrid smell of tanning leather. The tannery is the most prominent feature of your modest town, and you sorely wish it weren't. As the nephew and sole heir of the baron who owns most of the town, though, you doubt you'll be leaving Midvallen (or it's smell) behind any time soon.
The sun is halfway set now, and it bathes the hills around your home in crimson and gold. You're far too tired to appreciate it's beauty. As important as you may be to your uncle, he doesn't pamper you. You have lessons every day with the sage Malvolio, and after you are trained in the sword and axe by your uncle's bodyguard, Jax. He's a hulking man, his body thickened both by muscle and a love of beer, and you're right terrified of him. Not for no reason either. He's an angry drunk. And he's near always drunk.
"Arkhalis!" you hear the booming voice of Jax call out. "The Baron would speak with you!"