ã€ŠA Call to Armsã€‹


 Chapter 1

    Chapter One

    Alaric dismounted, sliding off Fire, his stallion, and down onto the damp ground. The recent rain the night before left the knee-high grass slick and glistening under the weak morning sun. Mayor Aldred Brakenhill also dismounted, albeit with a less practiced ease and a little stiffness born of age.

    At Alaric¡¯s behest, the mayor agreed to meet him alone at this secluded spot just beyond the edge of the town, away from prying eyes and curious ears and, more importantly, without pomp and ceremony, which had become too common over the last two years.

    The air was strong with the scent of wet grass and the nearby sea as the wind gusted, blowing and ruffling their cloaks. Alaric found it refreshing, almost cleansing.

    The mayor stood with a commanding presence. He was a former Crusader, a respected warrior and leader of men, someone Alaric had known briefly in the holy land. A year before, Brakenhill had come to him looking for a job, a position, and a place to settle down, to spend his last years.

    His broad shoulders and sturdy frame reflected years of physical exercise and military training. His hair, thick and peppered with gray, was tied back neatly, revealing a sun-weathered face carved with deep lines that told stories of many hard campaigns and years exposed to the elements.

    The mayor¡¯s sharp, assessing eyes darted about, taking in everything with rapid precision: Alaric¡¯s mounted escort and his close protection, his Shadow Guard. Under the watchful eye of Lieutenant Ganister, the group of twenty mounted men-at-arms had halted a respectful twenty yards distance, giving them some privacy. Brakenhill¡¯s gaze shifted to Alaric¡¯s two Shadow Guard, who rode up with them, though remained mounted.

    Wearing an old cloak and dressed in practical garments, an embroidered tunic¡ªone his wife had likely stitched¡ªand well-worn boots, Brakenhill exuded a sense of effortless authority and command. His bearing was that of a man accustomed to giving orders, yet he carried himself with an approachability that belied his status, an ease and comfort of which Alaric approved. The warmth of his smile softened the otherwise stern lines of his face as he approached Alaric, leaving his horse free, the reins dangling. The animal did not budge, simply waiting, as if curious to see what would happen.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Brakenhill began, starting to lower himself to a knee amidst the wet grass.

    ¡°No need for that, Aldred,¡± Alaric quickly interjected, gesturing with a dismissive hand. ¡°Not here, not now.¡±

    The mayor halted mid-motion, acknowledging the gesture with a nod of appreciation as he straightened. At the same moment, Alaric passed the reins of his horse to Thorne, who, along with Ezran, formed the last of his feared and respected Shadow Guard. Alaric had given Jasper a specific task, an important job, and the man had leapt at the opportunity, forming a corps of rangers for Dekar, elite scouts. As for Kiera, she now served Rikka, leaving only these two dedicated and unquestioningly loyal servants.

    The gusting breeze from the ocean imbued the spring air with a crispness that bordered on being mildly chilly, stirring the tall grasses of the empty pasture where they stood. Enjoying the moment, Alaric turned his gaze away and watched. The individual blades of grass seemed to whisper amongst themselves as they waved about in a frenzy. Although the area was usually dotted with sheep and cows, this day, the pasture was empty. After a moment, the wind died down.

    Alaric turned back to Mayor Brakenhill, his expression one of sincere appreciation. ¡°Thank you for meeting me out here, away from the town.¡±

    ¡°The messenger you sent mentioned you wanted no fanfare, my lord,¡± Brakenhill responded, clearly understanding the need and desire for discretion.

    Alaric stepped forward, closing the distance between them and extending his hand in a gesture of mutual respect and friendship, something the mayor had earned. Brakenhill accepted the offer, his grip warm, firm, and despite his advanced years, strong, a reassuring connection as the ocean breeze gusted once more, setting the sea of grass around them into hissing motion.

    ¡°I did not come for spectacle. I am here to reconnect with an old friend,¡± Alaric confirmed, his tone casual yet filled with underlying seriousness. ¡°As one of my few friends, I trust you can appreciate that.¡±

    ¡°I can, and per your message, I have informed Bramwell of your impending arrival,¡± Brakenhill told him. ¡°And for your meeting, I¡¯ve made sure a local tavern will be exclusively yours for as long as you desire it, my lord. You shall not be disturbed. On that, you have my solemn word. If I have to post militia around the tavern to see that happen, I will.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡± Alaric¡¯s eyes drifted toward the town, more than a half mile away. From this distance, the settlement appeared as a miniature model in the process of being assembled. Even though most of it had been planned out in advance, the town now sprawled haphazardly outward, a jumble of growing confusion.

    Alaric scratched an itch on his neck as he studied the town. The lack of defensive walls lent a peculiar openness to the place, as if welcoming all newcomers. In a land where most towns had walls, this made it an oddity. But that was the state of Dekar these days, mostly safe and secure.

    Multiple buildings in various stages of construction were in plain view, some not much more than mere skeletons. The older buildings boasted thatched roofs. Smoke rose into the sky from many of the town¡¯s chimneys.

    Dozens of tents, both large and small, were in view as well, hugging the perimeter of the town. From the mayor¡¯s letters and reports, Alaric understood these were primarily temporary quarters for those who arrived with dreams of prosperity, only to find a budding town still struggling to match its ambition.

    This was Smuggler¡¯s Landing, which sat above Smuggler¡¯s Cove, his new port. Beyond the town, moving away from the ocean, the landscape softened into rolling pastures and fertile fields, where the early sprouts of grain and other crops waved in the occasional breeze, like a serene sea of green and brown. For miles around, these farmlands formed a patchwork quilt of cultivation, promising future sustenance and stability as the settlement continued to grow. At least, Alaric intended it that way.

    ¡°How is your family?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Thank you for asking, my lord. Lara is expecting any day now,¡± Brakenhill shared, a hint of weary affection in his voice. There were bags under the man¡¯s eyes. ¡°She¡¯s grown quite large but also terribly uncomfortable, irritable, always complaining about her aching feet. Honestly, at this point, I¡¯m not sure who is more eager for the birth, her or me.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s chuckle was genuine, a soft sound that carried easily in the open air. The mayor had met Lara soon after he settled in Dekar. Though she was far younger and a widower, they both made each other happy. Alaric liked her. ¡°Make sure you send word when the baby is born. I will send a birthing gift.¡±

    ¡°I will, my lord, and that is not necessary. You have given me so much already, my position¡ªthis town to manage.¡±

    ¡°Nonsense. It is the least I can do for all your hard work. And how is that little girl of yours?¡±

    The little girl was Lara¡¯s from a previous marriage. Brakenhill¡¯s expression softened and brightened as he spoke of his adopted daughter.

    ¡°Lissa is an adorable little terror,¡± he admitted with a mixture of pride and exasperation. ¡°She keeps all the servants on their toes and has inherited her mother¡¯s fiery spirit, not to mention her temper. I suppose it¡¯s the red hair. She has one speed and that is fast.¡± The mayor chuckled lightly. Then, his demeanor shifted, becoming more serious, grave even. ¡°But my family is not why you wished to meet out here, is it, my lord?¡±

    ¡°No, it is not, but it is good to hear, nonetheless, that you and your own are doing well, prospering even.¡± Alaric shifted his gaze back to the burgeoning town. ¡°How are things progressing here? I desired to meet away from everyone else¡ªthe project foremen and town leaders¡ªto get an unvarnished accounting of your progress.¡±

    ¡°I figured as much,¡± Brakenhill said.

    ¡°I wanted to hear it in your own words. So, how are things progressing?¡±

    ¡°Much as I reported in my last letter, my lord.¡± Brakenhill waved a hand at the town. ¡°Each day, more people arrive seeking work, and as you can imagine, work is plentiful, as we have a great need for labor. I¡¯m currently overseeing the construction of over ten new public buildings, including an apartment block to accommodate some of the new arrivals, the laborers and their families. Though I anticipate we¡¯ll need to construct more than just one soon enough.¡±

    ¡°Is there sufficient food for everyone, including the new arrivals?¡± Alaric queried, wondering if he might need to concern himself with the acquisition and shipping of additional rations to Smuggler¡¯s Landing. There was an expense to that sort of thing, and he was already spending an exorbitant amount for various projects across Dekar.

    ¡°There is plenty of food,¡± Brakenhill affirmed, ¡°provided the new arrivals are willing to work or can pay their way. As expected, we have a few loafers¡ªbeggars, knockabouts, and the like. But we make it clear they¡¯ll receive no free handouts. They either work or move along. We¡¯ve had to drive off some of the more troublesome ones.¡±

    Alaric nodded thoughtfully. The reality of managing an expanding town meant dealing with all types of people, and his views, along with those of the mayor, were clear-cut. There were always those who refused to work, to strive to better themselves. Those who could contribute, but chose not to, presented a challenge.

    Alaric believed strongly in the ethic of work¡ªas a means to earn one¡¯s keep, but also as a way to foster a sense of community, belonging, and mutual respect, not only for oneself, but where one lived. His sympathy extended to those genuinely incapacitated, disabled in some way, former soldiers or sailors who¡¯d been injured and crippled through service. But for those simply who chose not to work, to leech off others, he had no such feelings for them, no soft spot within his heart. If they were capable of performing simple labor, he saw no need to provide for them either. Better they be moved along and be made someone else¡¯s problem.

    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°And how is my port coming?¡± Alaric asked. Seeing Bramwell was just an excuse. Alaric really wanted to set eyes upon his pet project, one he hoped would transform Dekar.

    ¡°Quite well, actually,¡± Brakenhill said and gestured toward the cliff¡¯s edge a few yards away. ¡°Would you like to see it?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡± Alaric started walking, with the mayor falling in at his side, the grass swishing as they moved. This spot was one they had met at several times before. It was Alaric¡¯s preferred place, for it provided him a vantage point of the port he was constructing, the pier, the wharf, and the breakwater. As they approached the cliff¡¯s edge, the salty breeze intensified, carrying with it the distant cries of seagulls and the rhythmic chant of sailors at work, the hammering of workmen.

    Alaric paused at the cliff¡¯s edge, taking in the sight of his grand enterprise. The port he envisioned was coming to life before his eyes, partially fueled by the substantial treasure he brought back to his homeland. Below, the cliffs formed a natural and wide amphitheater that provided not only protection from the relentless sea, but a near natural harbor, ideal for sheltering ships.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming along faster than I had hoped,¡± Alaric said, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he studied the progress made since his last visit, less than a month before. He could not believe how much had been done. All of the warehouses along the waterfront were finished and now in use. ¡°Your management of the construction has been quite effective. I am impressed.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord.¡±

    Since he¡¯d seen it last, the breakwater had even grown several dozen yards. When complete, it would guard the harbor¡¯s mouth against the unpredictable moods of the sea, which, during storms, made the harbor¡¯s waters rough. It would provide a more stable foundation for trade and commerce, in which ships of all types would be able to find a haven.

    Large, wide barges served as floating platforms for cranes that hoisted massive stones, sourced from quarries farther inland, onto the growing structure of the breakwater. The rhythmic clanking of metal and the shouts of workers easily reached their ears.

    A wooden pier extended out into the harbor. Secured to it was a large galley. There were currently four others riding at anchor within the harbor, waiting for their turn to dock and unload. Under the watchful eyes of overseers, dozens of laborers toiled, moving briskly across deck, down gangplanks, and along the pier, unloading and stacking an assortment of crates and barrels. Additional workers were loading wagons positioned on the dock. From their current spot, the workers looked ant-like. Shouts and orders, faded by distance, competed with the sea breeze as it gusted once more.

    Beyond the immediate bustle of the port, the waters farther out into the ocean were dotted with fishing boats. These vessels, considerably smaller, bobbed gently on the surface, their nets and lines cast in hopeful anticipation of a rich day¡¯s bounty. Circling above them and attracted by the promise of an easy meal, seabirds swooped and dived.

    The cove, once hidden and barely accessible, was rapidly evolving into a crucial artery for the flow of goods and wealth into and out of his earldom, heralding a new era for the town and its people, not to mention Dekar. Alaric¡¯s gaze shifted from the fishing vessels. The shoreline itself had undergone a dramatic and impressive transformation. It bore no resemblance to the sandy and rocky beach he landed upon two years before when he¡¯d returned home from Crusade.

    What had once been a simple stretch of isolated beach hemmed in by cliffs now sported a row of warehouses that backed up right to the cliff walls. Concrete replaced the sandy beach, providing a sturdy foundation for the management of goods.

    The narrow path that once meandered dangerously up the cliffside had been significantly widened, the extra space hacked out of the very rock face. It was now paved with concrete as well, creating a more substantial route. Traffic in the forms of wagons, carts, mules, and people afoot moved in both directions simultaneously.

    Smuggler¡¯s Cove was no longer just a geographical feature, an oddity visited only by a few; it was becoming a vital conduit for trade and prosperity. The growing port, alive with the creak of wood, the clang of metal, and the shouts of laborers, was a vivid picture of progress and potential, drawing its lifeblood from the sea and sending its pulse up through the cliffs to the heart of the town and beyond. What lay before him was potential incarnate, something Alaric hoped would make Dekar wealthy for years to come.

    ¡°As you can see, the first pier is complete,¡± Brakenhill said, pointing. ¡°We no longer have to unload by small boat shuttles. The ships can tie up directly to the dock.¡±

    ¡°Impressive.¡±

    ¡°We have accumulated sufficient lumber to begin building the second within a matter of days.¡±

    ¡°And when will you expect to have that completed?¡± Alaric asked curiously.

    ¡°Likely by summer¡¯s end,¡± the mayor said and then gestured out at the barges. ¡°The breakwater will take longer, maybe another year to finish. Placing the stones is slow and tedious work.¡±

    ¡°And hard,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Yes, my lord. It is hard and difficult work. First the rock needs to be quarried and then transported by heavy wagon to the barges, before being lifted and placed.¡± The mayor pointed again. ¡°As you can see, we have already begun the process of cementing the breakwater.¡±

    ¡°And how is that going?¡±

    ¡°Slow,¡± Brakenhill admitted with a slight scowl. ¡°But we already have fifty yards covered. That has allowed us to bring rock directly out onto the breakwater itself and load it from there onto the barges using the cranes, speeding the process up considerably. The barges no longer have to be brought into shore. Honestly, I was surprised the cement works the way it does, sets, that is¡­¡±

    ¡°Understandable,¡± Alaric said, for he had not quite believed it possible as well until he¡¯d tested it.

    ¡°As long as you have the framing in place, it sets and dries in water. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it¡ªremarkable, really.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod.

    ¡°If you don¡¯t mind my asking, wherever did you find the mix of ingredients for this cement?¡± Brakenhill asked. ¡°And the instructions as to how it was to be used?¡±

    ¡°I found an old scroll,¡± Alaric said by way of explanation, ¡°detailing how things like this were done in the days of the Ordinate, the making of a breakwater that would last.¡±

    ¡°That must have been in the holy land. During my time there, I saw many hawking old scrolls and books, claiming they were from the days of the empire, from the great library itself,¡± he mused, shaking his head slightly. ¡°At the time, I never thought they contained much of use, other than old plays, comedies, dramas, and such, or boring philosophy. As a youth, I did not see the value in such things. I was there for a cause, for war¡­ in search of glory. Little did I know¡­¡±

    Alaric gave a grunt. Glory was something the uninitiated, who¡¯d never experienced killing or faced the enemy in the press of the line, hunted and strived to claim. He¡¯d once sought it himself. Now, he knew better. War tended to open one¡¯s eyes.

    ¡°It was dumb luck, or divine favor, that you found a scroll that was incredibly useful, my lord.¡±

    Declining to reply, Alaric absorbed Brakenhill¡¯s words, letting the moment stretch.

    ¡°We have lost much with the fall of the Ordinate,¡± Alaric finally responded, his voice tinged with a melancholic undertone as he thought back to some of the ruins he¡¯d seen during the Crusade, the grand structures, the ones that had not been swallowed by the sands of the great desert. ¡°It is a shame, really, how far we have slid.¡±

    ¡°Agreed, my lord.¡± Brakenhill gestured toward the energetic scene below them. He sucked in a breath. ¡°Once the second pier is constructed, we will frame the first out fully and pour concrete. When complete, that should be something to last, a dock that will hold up to the weather. Given a year or two, with some additional labor, we should be able to build three permanent piers that I estimate will be able to accommodate nine large galleys with room for more to anchor out into the harbor.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s gaze followed the mayor¡¯s hand, envisioning the future growth that Brakenhill outlined. Though he¡¯d seen drawn plans, with what was already accomplished, he could nearly envision it with his own eyes, as if it were already completed. The prospect of a thriving, robust port seemed no longer just a dream, but an imminent reality.

    ¡°I should like to see that,¡± he affirmed, the tone of his voice reflecting both determination and a hint of eagerness.

    ¡°Me as well, my lord,¡± Brakenhill echoed.

    ¡°Labor-wise, how short are you for the current needs?¡± Alaric¡¯s question shifted the conversation back to the immediate challenges at hand. ¡°You did not address that matter in your latest report.¡±

    Brakenhill took a moment to consider his answer, clearly reflecting on the scale of their endeavors. ¡°We have nearly two thousand actively employed at the moment, from logging, quarry work, to direct construction efforts,¡± he began. ¡°There is no doubt I could use more men. Your promise of land in exchange for service has indeed attracted many laborers from all across the kingdom, including those with specialized skill sets. The problem we¡¯re having now is housing. I have several hundred living out of tents. Dozens more arrive each day, mostly on foot or by ship, in search of work. Until I can construct additional housing, I think we are good for the moment, labor-wise.¡±

    Alaric turned his gaze toward the town, where the outlines of numerous tents lay on the outskirts. He had crafted a system designed to both populate and develop Dekar: selling plots to those who could afford them and offering land grants tied to service, such as work and manual labor in helping to construct the town and port for those who couldn¡¯t.

    For a year of service, laborers received an acre of land. After a second year, they were also provided two additional acres, along with a mule, tools, and seed to begin farming. If they successfully farmed the land for five years after that, it became theirs outright. Alaric thought it a quite generous system and so did those who¡¯d come.

    He implemented the process nearly all across Dekar. Already, just two years later, Alaric¡¯s lands were producing more than needed, with excess goods being transported to other places by wagon and ship.

    As long as Dekar remained peaceful and free from the conflicts that sometimes arose amongst the nobility, Alaric felt confident in the future growth and prosperity of his lands. Here, he was building more than just a town and port; he was fostering a community that could support and sustain itself through agriculture and trade.

    ¡°We are managing, my lord,¡± Brakenhill added. ¡°Don¡¯t doubt that. In truth, I have plenty of labor, and now that the snows have finally melted and the roads are open, more workers will come¡ªare coming every day. You will have your port.¡±

    ¡°I know it. I am very pleased with all you have done,¡± Alaric said, clapping the man on the shoulder. ¡°You have proven quite the administrator.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord, and it¡¯s easier and safer than leading men into battle, especially at my age. Being a captain of a mercenary company for Lord Geran taught me much when it comes to organization and getting things done. I¡¯ve applied a lot of that here.¡±

    ¡°It shows,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Have there been any troubles, bandits?¡±

    ¡°Nothing our militia and regular patrols out into the surrounding countryside can¡¯t handle. We¡¯ve kept a lid on such things.¡±

    ¡°That is good to hear.¡± Alaric¡¯s gaze lingered on the bustling port below. The last two years had been relatively peaceful, marred only by the sporadic presence of roaming bandits or the occasional highwaymen, nuisances that were promptly dealt with.

    More pressing concerns, like potential interference from Duke Laval, had not materialized, much to Alaric¡¯s surprise. He anticipated some form of disruption from the duke and had preemptively placed spies within Laval¡¯s lands, but all reports returned uneventful, with no hint of the duke even attempting to stir up trouble. Still, he understood one day Laval would strike, especially after what Alaric had done to the duke¡¯s son, Malvanis.

    Alaric intended to be ready for that.

    ¡°You will let me know if you need anything?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°As always, my lord.¡± Brakenhill¡¯s assurance reflected the trust and structured communication established between them, a cornerstone of the project¡¯s success.

    ¡°I expect I will stay just the night and be off in the morning,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I have much to attend to in Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest, a lot of work that¡¯s waiting.¡±

    This was met with an understanding nod from Brakenhill. ¡°With all that you are doing across Dekar, I imagine so, my lord. Though they will very much wish to speak with you, I will see that no one bothers you, including the aldermen.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that,¡± Alaric replied, his tone grateful as he took a deep breath of the crisp sea air. ¡°They can come to the keep if they wish to speak or write me.¡±

    That would ensure only the most important issues reached his desk. The minor ones could be handled by the mayor.

    ¡°I will tell them that.¡± Brakenhill gestured toward the town with an inviting hand. ¡°Shall we proceed? I am sure Bramwell is waiting and just as eager to see you, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s,¡± Alaric agreed, giving a final, lingering glance at the industrious port that symbolized so much of his efforts and hopes. He then turned, returning to where Thorne waited with the reins of his horse. The prospect of a relaxing evening was appealing, especially after the hard and long ride to get here. ¡°I could use a drink, a fire, and some good company to while away the time with¡­ not to mention a break from my duties.¡±

 Chapter 2

    Alaric dismounted with a resonant clack as his hobnailed boots smacked against cobblestone. Word had rapidly spread of his arrival. A round of cheers from the gathering throng on the street rang out. The air buzzed with energy as his escort, still mounted, and the local militia, armed with shields and on foot, cordoned off a protective bubble around him, pushing overly excited people back; a crowd of at least two hundred. More were hurrying up the street in an attempt to get a glimpse of him. The crowd cheered again, their voices blending into a cacophony of welcome.

    He lifted his hand in acknowledgment, waving back at them and stirring another burst of cheering. The crowd was primarily made up of civilian laborers, with a scattering of women and children, all united in their enthusiasm, greeting their lord. The pungent aroma of civilization¡ªsweat, dirt, human and animal excrement, the indefinable essence of a densely populated area¡ªhung heavy on the air. After a ride through the countryside to get here, the stench nearly overwhelmed Alaric¡¯s senses. He knew he¡¯d become accustomed to it in due course and by the morning barely notice it.

    Amidst the sea of faces, Alaric¡¯s attention was drawn to two knights mingling with the crowd. They were clad not in their battle armor, but in their tunics, surcoats, and cloaks, which bore the emblems of their order, a cross set next to a golden compass¡ªsymbols of an organization he did not recognize.

    That did not bother him much, for there were many holy orders. Still, they stood out from the rest of the throng and Alaric had the suspicion they were Crusaders. Both men appeared to be in their thirties and fixed Alaric with an intense stare, their gazes piercing enough to instill a flicker of discomfort in him.

    Alaric decided they were likely passengers on a passing ship that had brought them to Smuggler¡¯s Landing. With luck, this was merely a waypoint on a much longer journey. Such men could easily translate into trouble, especially if they were literalists, holy firebrands of a self-proclaimed mission from God.

    The knights¡¯ unyielding scrutiny did not waver, and Alaric felt a prickle of intrigue¡ªor was it apprehension? Their eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to weigh and judge him, assessing his every move.

    Wanting nothing more to do with the Crusade, or the troubles such knights potentially brought, Alaric turned his attention away. Thorne had also dismounted, taking the reins of Alaric¡¯s horse. The mayor had excused himself shortly after their entrance into the town to attend his duties and call out the militia for Alaric¡¯s visit.

    Alaric turned to the tavern. Before him stood a robust structure, radiating a sense of warmth and welcome. Thick wooden beams framed its architecture, supporting a steep thatched roof that boasted a promise of refuge from the fiercest storms. Large, multi-paned windows punctuated the fa?ade, their colored glass catching the light of the sun and reflecting it.

    Above the main entrance, a sturdy, hand-carved sign swung gently in the breeze, the name ¡°The Prancing Goat¡± emblazoned across it in bold, rustic letters that clearly echoed the tavern¡¯s hearty and jovial spirit.

    The tavern keeper stood before the heavy main door, which was held slightly ajar as if in anticipation of his arrival. A smile spread across Alaric¡¯s face at the sight of the stout man, a familiar presence in a town that was otherwise filled with a mesh of new and unfamiliar faces. He wore a tunic and pants covered over by a well-worn apron stained with the evidence of many a spilled ale, not to mention cooking.

    ¡°Vertax,¡± Alaric greeted the former veteran with a warm familiarity. The man had been a corporal in the Iron Vanguard, a solid and steady soldier, one who earned his position through hard work and dedication.

    As he approached, Vertax knelt on one knee in a gesture of respect.

    ¡°Stand,¡± Alaric commanded softly.

    Vertax rose smoothly to his feet. ¡°Welcome to Smuggler¡¯s Landing, my lord, and my humble tavern, the Prancing Goat. It is an honor for you to patron it.¡±

    ¡°It seems like civilian life suits you,¡± Alaric remarked, his eyes taking in the sturdy build of the tavern behind Vertax. ¡°I take it you are doing well?¡±

    ¡°I am, my lord,¡± Vertax replied, a note of pride threading his voice. ¡°I took the money you gave me when I mustered out of the Iron Vanguard, along with part of my pension, came here, and built the Goat. It¡¯s the finest tavern in all of Smuggler¡¯s Landing. I¡¯m even married now, with a child on the way, if you can believe that. I¡¯m truly a blessed man.¡±

    ¡°That is good to hear,¡± Alaric responded, his voice tinged with genuine pleasure at the news.

    ¡°Your guests are already inside,¡± Vertax continued, glancing at the partially open door. ¡°I¡¯ve cleared out the tavern for your arrival¡ªthere¡¯s no one else inside. Even the servants have been sent away. Only my wife and I will be in the kitchen. Should you need food or drink, just call. My place is yours, my lord, for as long as you need it.¡±

    Alaric nodded in appreciation. The seclusion offered by the empty tavern ensured not only privacy, but also a momentary escape from the demanding gaze of the public. He glanced at the crowd, being held back by the militia. The two knights were still there, gazes fixed upon him. Alaric turned his attention back to Vertax.

    ¡°Thank you, and I will call you if I require anything,¡± Alaric assured Vertax, his gratitude evident in his tone.

    He turned to Thorne and Ezran, who had quietly approached and now stood just behind him. Fire was being led away by one of Alaric¡¯s escort as the rest of Ganister¡¯s men dismounted. ¡°I do not wish to be disturbed. I don¡¯t care how much they protest that they need but a moment, understand?¡±

    ¡°I will post guards around the tavern, my lord,¡± Thorne replied promptly. ¡°You will not be disturbed. No one will come within ten paces of the building.¡±

    Alaric nodded his approval, then walked to the entrance, pushing open the tavern door and stepping inside. Immediately, the rich aroma of woodsmoke mingling with the powerful scent of stale ale wrapped around Alaric like an old, familiar cloak. He glanced rapidly around, taking everything in. The tavern¡¯s interior was spacious and warmly inviting, with heavy wooden beams crisscrossing the high ceiling. A large stone fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting a soft, welcoming glow across the room that flickered over the furniture and the faces of its occupants. Though it was muted, the windows let in the rest of the light.

    The floor was freshly strewn with straw, which crunched softly under Alaric¡¯s boots. The walls were a gallery of mounted, wooden carved heads of sea creatures, a clear nod to the tavern¡¯s favored seafaring clientele. There was even a half-naked and beautiful mermaid. Long, sturdy tables and benches, crafted from rich, dark timber that matched the building¡¯s beams overhead, filled the common room, offering plenty of seating for busier times.

    Near the far end of the room, Bramwell sat closely with his first officer, Caxatarus. They¡¯d been engrossed in a quiet conversation, their weathered faces illuminated by the flicker of a candle sitting on the table before them, creating shadows that danced across their expressions. The table was cluttered with nautical charts and a few tankards.

    The rest of the tavern was eerily silent, empty; the bustling and likely normal chatter and laughter of patrons were conspicuously absent, replaced by an air of solitude. As Alaric¡¯s eyes adjusted to the dim light, the weight of the day and the long journey to get here began to lift, replaced by the tranquility of this carefully arranged refuge.

    Both men rose to their feet as Alaric closed the door behind him, sealing off the outside world and the crowd. He crossed the room. ¡°It is my turn to welcome you both to Dekar,¡± Alaric announced, his voice carrying the warmth of hospitality.

    Bramwell¡¯s face split into a broad grin, and he wrapped Alaric in a robust bear hug.

    ¡°It is indeed a pleasure to be here,¡± the captain agreed, his voice rich with camaraderie and friendship. They patted each other on the back in a hearty exchange, then stepped back. ¡°It has been too long.¡±

    ¡°It has been,¡± Alaric agreed, then shifted his gaze to Caxatarus. The last time Alaric had seen him, Caxatarus had been limping, a consequence of an injury sustained during their daring boarding and capture of the warship, Mysteeri. ¡°And how are you, you old pirate?¡±

    ¡°I am tolerable,¡± Caxatarus said, his voice gritty and raspy, the result of an old injury marked by an ugly scar upon his neck. ¡°Just tolerable.¡±

    Alaric nodded, acknowledging the stoicism in the man¡¯s brief reply.

    ¡°Shall we sit?¡± Bramwell suggested, motioning toward the table they had been occupying earlier. A large jar of ale and three mugs awaited their return. The captain hastily moved aside the charts and maps, stacking them together and placing them out of the way on the next table.

    Alaric moved around the table to claim a stool on the opposite side, pulling it up with a soft scrape against the wooden floor before seating himself. Bramwell and Caxatarus followed suit, settling in more comfortably. Bramwell, with a practiced hand, filled a mug with ale and slid it across the table toward Alaric.

    ¡°To old friends,¡± Bramwell declared, raising his own mug in a salute, ¡°and friendship!¡±

    Alaric and Caxatarus lifted their mugs in sync. ¡°To old friends,¡± they echoed, their voices blending into a single resonant chord. The clink of their mugs punctuated the toast, and together, the three men took long drinks.

    After his long ride from Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest, Alaric¡¯s initial anticipation for the ale faded quickly as he tasted it, for the brew was not up to the standards he was accustomed to back at the keep. He paused, eyes narrowing slightly as he analyzed the flavor. The ale had a faintly acidic tang and seemed heavily diluted, lacking the robust depth and warmth he preferred. After a moment¡¯s contemplation, he set the mug down gently and pushed it slightly away. Clearly, his old corporal was watering down the drink.

    Despite the slight disappointment in the beverage, the warmth of the reunion and the safety of the tavern¡¯s secluded environment allowed him to overlook the ale¡¯s shortcomings. The moment was about more than the drink¡ªit was about rekindling bonds with comrades in a world where alliances and close friendships were as crucial as any weapon.

    ¡°I must admit,¡± Bramwell continued, his tone shifting toward a lighter note as he glanced around the common room, ¡°the transformation of this place, this town that you¡¯ve built, is quite impressive. You have done a lot here in so short a time. When I dropped you off down at the shore, there was nothing even close to civilization hereabouts.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Caxatarus added, taking another sip of the ale. His expression soured slightly, and he thumped his mug on the table with a small grunt of dissatisfaction. ¡°When we pulled into the harbor, I could scarcely believe my eyes. We may have to stop here more often. Your tax man didn¡¯t even charge us an anchoring fee. That is unheard of¡­¡±

    ¡°I left orders that you, specifically your ships, when you came, were not to be taxed,¡± Alaric responded, his voice calm and assured. ¡°At least those taxes concerning anchoring. There is, however, a tariff to pay on goods unloaded.¡±

    Bramwell made a sour expression at that. ¡°I knew it was too good to be true.¡±

    ¡°At some point,¡± Alaric continued, ¡°I must be fair to the other traders, merchants, and I need to pay for the improvements to Dekar, like this port. Saving you on the anchoring fee was the least I could do for a friend.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that. Thank you.¡± Bramwell raised his mug again in a gesture of gratitude.

    ¡°It seems like every stop we make,¡± Caxatarus said, ¡°they are raising the anchoring fees and import taxes. Though from what I¡¯ve heard from others, your rates are far lower than most.¡±

    Alaric nodded. ¡°It¡¯s part of our¡ªmy effort to encourage more ships to choose Dekar as a port of call along their wider journeys. Fair tariffs and stable governance make for good relations¡ªand better business¡ªfor everyone involved, I think. We will see if that plays out in the long run. It certainly did in Hawkani.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Bramwell said and took another drink of the bad ale.

    ¡°I hope to drive business my way,¡± Alaric stated plainly, his gaze sweeping across the tavern, envisioning not just the bustling normal business within its walls, but also the broader economic currents flowing through Dekar as trade increased.

    ¡°Keep the fees and taxes low,¡± Caxatarus said, his voice carrying a hint of advice mingled with approval, ¡°and half the shipping in the north will be making regular stops in Dekar. From what I¡¯ve learned from the other captains in port, it¡¯s far cheaper to unload goods here and then transport them overland to the towns and cities inland than it is to pay the exorbitant taxes elsewhere, like in Averndale or Urburn.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s grin widened at the comment. ¡°You know, there was a reason Hawkani¡¯s anchoring and import taxes were lower than my competitors¡¯.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered about that,¡± Bramwell mused aloud, leaning forward with interest. ¡°It made you a rich man, then?¡± The captain slapped a palm down upon the table. ¡°Why, I am sure it did, thinking back on all those strongboxes we took aboard when you left Hawkani and took you home.¡±

    ¡°It did,¡± Alaric affirmed. ¡°And now, some of those funds are financing the improvements to Dekar, including this port.¡±

    Bramwell gave a shrewd nod, his expression showing a mix of respect and understanding.

    ¡°It has been two years since I last saw you both,¡± Alaric remarked, his tone reflective as he pondered the swift passage of time. ¡°What have you been up to?¡±

    ¡°The trade in the holy land has dried up,¡± Caxatarus replied grimly. ¡°None of Eldanar¡¯s followers are welcome in the ports of call along that cursed coast.¡±

    ¡°You mean there are fewer ships to raid and take?¡± Alaric asked, his words carrying a touch of irony mixed with genuine curiosity.

    ¡°Aye,¡± Caxatarus said. ¡°Not to mention the enemy¡¯s warships are more numerous now, especially with Sunara snapping up all the good port cities, making such ventures challenging to the point of being outright dangerous in the extreme.¡±

    ¡°Hawkani was the last city to fall to Sunara¡¯s forces,¡± Bramwell interjected, his tone somber as he delivered the news.

    ¡°When did that happen?¡± Alaric inquired, feeling a stab of unhappiness.

    ¡°Two months ago.¡± Bramwell¡¯s expression was serious. ¡°I heard from a trader who set sail the day it happened.¡±

    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°The city did not fall by force of arms,¡± Caxatarus added, leaning forward slightly. ¡°As Sunara¡¯s army arrived, the people strung Merrick up like the pig he was and executed him, then surrendered the city. At least, that is what we were told. We weren¡¯t there.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s expression turned somber as he processed this information. The news left him saddened, for Hawkani had been his home. After several moments, he gave a slow, contemplative nod. While he never held any particular fondness for Merrick, the brutal manner of his demise was unsettling. It was a lesson, for it could happen to Alaric too if the circumstances were right. ¡°And how did the city fare? What did Sunara do to the populace?¡±

    ¡°The priests were all killed, publicly stripped, flogged, and executed; beheading, I think,¡± Bramwell reported somberly. ¡°But, as I understand it, Sunara was generous. Those who converted and renounced Eldanar were spared the sword or the torture of a forced conversion.¡±

    That, Alaric thought, was not good news. Though it was better than the alternative, what he had expected. Sunara could have easily razed the city to the ground for supporting Eldanar¡¯s holy warriors.

    ¡°We heard Sunara was enraged he did not get you,¡± Caxatarus chimed in. ¡°He¡¯s still unhappy with you, it seems¡­¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m happy to disappoint,¡± Alaric quipped dryly, taking another sip of his ale, though the flavor seemed to have soured even further with the conversation.

    ¡°Such a man has a long arm,¡± Caxatarus warned, ¡°and an even longer reach. He is holding a serious grudge against you.¡±

    Alaric took another sip of the ale. He peered over the rim of his mug at Caxatarus, then Bramwell. The relaxed demeanor of the two men belied the undercurrent of tension that Alaric felt creeping into the room. Caxatarus spoke truth. Alaric had to be watchful, for there was the real chance Sunara would come after him one day. The subtle warmth spreading from his ring¡ªa family heirloom sensitive to such things¡ªconfirmed that. He had to be on guard.

    ¡°I will be careful,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°You were the only one to ever defeat Sunara in battle,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°Such a thing sticks with such a man. I fear he will not rest until he sees you dead. There¡¯s even talk of him turning his armies north to our lands, though I think that unlikely, as he¡¯d have to cross the great ocean. No, if I am any judge, he will sit tight and consolidate his gains, what he conquered in the holy lands.¡±

    Alaric thought so too.

    ¡°So, why, after all this time, did you decide to finally come for a visit?¡± Alaric wanted to change the course of the conversation. ¡°Why are you here? Why now? I mean, I am happy to see you, but what took so long? It¡¯s been more than two years.¡±

    Bramwell¡¯s demeanor shifted as he leaned back on his stool and set his mug down with a deliberate calm. ¡°I bring a warning. I owed you that much.¡±

    ¡°A warning?¡± Alaric echoed, his interest piqued. ¡°What kind of a warning?¡±

    ¡°Your kingdom¡¯s neighbor to the south, Averndale, has raised an army,¡± Bramwell revealed, his voice carrying the weight of his words. ¡°They are preparing to invade Kevahn.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve heard the rumors about that,¡± Alaric admitted, his expression tight with concern. ¡°There have been some border clashes in Urburn, raids on both sides of the border. In response, the king has ordered the raising of fresh levies, which, accordingly, I have seen done. If the call comes, Dekar will stand ready to answer.¡±

    ¡°These are not rumors,¡± Bramwell insisted, leaning forward to emphasize his point. He tapped a finger on the table. ¡°King Thorold means to take Kevahn from Roderick through force of arms.¡±

    ¡°My king?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°I saw the army with my own eyes. Thorold¡¯s ships have already begun to raid Kevahn¡¯s shipping.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve not heard about that,¡± Alaric admitted.

    ¡°We both saw the army,¡± Caxatarus said, ¡°and the aftermath of one such raid, the wreckage of the galley, and talked to a survivor who¡¯d swum ashore rather than surrender. A ship flying under the colors of Averndale was the aggressor.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s posture straightened, his attention sharpening. The casual setting of the tavern faded away as the gravity of the situation settled upon him.

    ¡°Thorold means to invade Kevahn, and soon,¡± Caxatarus added, his voice grave. ¡°Your king, Roderick, is viewed as weak, your kingdom vulnerable. Before we weighed anchor, from Throgg¡¯s Head, Thorold sent for me and even tried to engage my services.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s gaze flicked between the two men, absorbing the implications of their words. Kevahn¡¯s king was indeed young and inexperienced¡ªtraits often mistaken for weakness in their harsh, unforgiving world. Though this perception was widespread, it stirred a protective loyalty in Alaric for his king. But, the truth was, Roderick was weak. Alaric had met the man twice and been far from impressed. Still, he¡¯d given his word and sworn an oath of loyalty to his king.

    ¡°And what did you say to that?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°What did you say to Thorold?¡±

    ¡°I told him I¡¯d think on it, give his offer the thought it deserved,¡± Bramwell said plainly. ¡°And I am still thinking on it. Thorold is an experienced fighter and leader. He may be older, but he is not a weak man, not by a long shot. He brought his kingdom together by force of arms. He wants Kevahn and aims to have it before the fall rains arrive.¡±

    The silence hung heavy as Alaric considered his response. His commitment to Roderick was not just a matter of loyalty, but of honor. He knew well the responsibilities that came with his oath, and the potential consequences of the looming threat that war brought. Alaric¡¯s word was his bond. He¡¯d not go back on it. When the king called, he would answer and bring Dekar¡¯s might to the war.

    ¡°Why not just take him up on the offer?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°Why come here and warn me?¡±

    ¡°I was tempted,¡± Bramwell admitted. ¡°Seriously tempted. But the thought of you stopped me¡­¡±

    ¡°Me?¡±

    ¡°Aye, you,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°I¡¯d not fight against you. It is not a winning bet, and besides, you are one of the few friends I have.¡±

    Alaric snorted. ¡°If it comes to war, I won¡¯t be leading Kevahn¡¯s army. It will likely be one of the dukes or the king himself.¡±

    ¡°That did not stop you at the Battle of Cross Forks from saving the Cardinal¡¯s army, pulling that fat and entitled man¡¯s bacon from the fire. I seem to recall you were rewarded with Hawkani after that.¡±

    ¡°In the end,¡± Alaric said, ¡°I did not make much of a difference. The Cardinal King and his domain still fell and is now in Sunara¡¯s hands.¡±

    ¡°Aye, it did,¡± Bramwell said, ¡°but I have a feeling about you.¡±

    ¡°A feeling? Really?¡± Alaric barked out a laugh. It sounded harsh in the empty common room of the tavern.

    ¡°Yes, a feeling,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°There is more to you than meets the eye. There always has been, and you know it too.¡±

    Alaric scowled at the words. ¡°Thank you for the warning.¡±

    ¡°There will be war between Averndale and Kevahn before long.¡± Bramwell was firm. ¡°Thorold has amassed a considerable army that includes former Crusaders and their men-at-arms, now hiring themselves out as mercenaries.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve heard it said Thorold has more than ten thousand men,¡± Caxatarus said, ¡°maybe even twelve thousand.¡±

    Alaric rubbed his jaw as he considered what he was learning. He would have to write the king. Such an army was a real threat.

    ¡°Call this a friendly heads-up,¡± Bramwell said.

    Alaric snorted again. ¡°You fight on sea and I on land. If you took Thorold¡¯s side, we¡¯d not likely face one another in battle, at least until after the war. You¡¯d sell your mother if there was an opportunity.¡±

    ¡°You wound me,¡± Bramwell said, then gave a shrug.

    ¡°I seriously doubt that,¡± Alaric said. ¡°There¡¯s more to your visit than¡¯s plain.¡±

    ¡°Well,¡± Bramwell said, dragging out the word, ¡°now that you mention it¡­ there might be an opportunity to be had for the both of us, one we would be foolish and remiss to ignore.¡±

    ¡°You mean to prey upon Averndale¡¯s shipping,¡± Alaric surmised. ¡°Is that it? Why not just take Thorold¡¯s offer and his side?¡±

    ¡°Their taxes and import fees are too high as it is,¡± Bramwell said simply, ¡°and Thorold¡¯s bureaucrats have not been so friendly to me of late. They want bribes, and not little ones, to look the other way. Besides, Averndale is richer than Kevahn, and their merchant fleet is far larger, meaning there will be more marks to take. If it comes to war, I now have five ships at my disposal, all with good crews and captains. There is money to be made, for Averndale does not have a proper navy, at least an experienced one. That ship they took, it sank prematurely, and the amateurs lost half the cargo to the sea.¡±

    ¡°They are terrible sailors,¡± Caxatarus added.

    Alaric was silent for a long moment as he looked between the two men.

    Caxatarus grinned at him with rotted teeth. ¡°We are offering you our services.¡±

    ¡°We only have a small fleet,¡± Bramwell said, ¡°as I said, five ships, but in a manner of speaking, it would be Dekar¡¯s navy.¡±

    ¡°That you want to put to use in Kevahn¡¯s name?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°Is that it? Make your piracy legal?¡±

    ¡°Not quite for Kevahn,¡± Bramwell said, ¡°but in Dekar¡¯s name, yes, and I would not call it piracy, not exactly. We would be fighting for your side, wreaking havoc upon the enemy. I would also need a place to move the goods taken and seized, a place to anchor my ships, to refit, conduct repairs when needed¡­ a safe harbor¡±¡ªBramwell held out his arms¡ª¡°like this one. Some wars tend to be longer than others, and when they drag out, in my experience, there is money to be made.¡±

    ¡°You would get a cut of whatever we seize,¡± Caxatarus said, leaning forward upon his stool and growing deadly serious. He glanced over at Bramwell, who nodded. ¡°A very generous cut, in addition to the taxes you charge, twenty percent of our profit. Thorold wanted twenty-five, and that¡¯s highway robbery. We¡¯re the ones taking all the risk.¡±

    Intrigued, Alaric thought for a long moment. He gave a slow nod. ¡°I might be agreeable to that, if it comes to war.¡±

    Both Bramwell and Caxatarus grinned at him, relaxing a bit. They both shared a look. Then Caxatarus gave a slight nod, as if for Bramwell to continue.

    ¡°I also need a place I can call my own,¡± Bramwell said.

    ¡°We,¡± Caxatarus added, ¡°need a place to call our own, a place to put down roots.¡±

    ¡°You mean land?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°You both want land?¡±

    ¡°A place to invest our considerable retirement funds,¡± Caxatarus said.

    ¡°I see,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Here in Smuggler¡¯s Landing?¡±

    ¡°Aye. You would see me more often, and I would buy the land from you for a fair rate and build a villa with seaside views, a place to relax when in port. We both win. You get a navy and we a safe haven.¡±

    Alaric leaned back. His stool creaked as he considered the two men before him. When he¡¯d walked through the door to the Prancing Goat, he had not expected this in the least.

    ¡°There would also be our crews to think of,¡± Caxatarus said. ¡°They would need a home, a place where, when their days of sailing are done and they retire, they might be able to settle down and live out their final days in peace.¡±

    ¡°A land grant for service?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°Service to Dekar in the coming war?¡±

    ¡°Kinda like that,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°They might fight harder for land. If the war is a short one, perhaps some sort of long-term deal can be made. We could become your navy in name, patrolling Dekar¡¯s waters, driving away any pirates that seek to take advantage of your prosperity, while also conducting some trade on the side.¡±

    Alaric took a deep breath, weighing the heavy decision. His mind raced with the tactical implications of Bramwell and Caxatarus¡¯s proposal, the balance of risk and reward playing out in his thoughts.

    Sponsoring what could be seen as piracy was not without its dangers, but in the chess game of regional politics, what they were suggesting made sense. However, if Bramwell took the wrong ship and word got out, it could have serious repercussions for Dekar. Alaric knew well enough he could not trust these men, not fully. They¡¯d do what was in their best interests. Still, if war broke out, Averndale¡¯s shipping would indeed become a valid target. Without Bramwell, Alaric had no way to take advantage of that, and the two men knew it.

    Alaric understood that when war came, his new port and the shipping he sought to bring into it would suffer, especially if Thorold was already raiding Kevahn¡¯s shipping. Having seasoned, allied ships on his side could prove invaluable. Bramwell would do as he pleased, but hurting Averndale would help Kavahn and, in turn, Dekar. Bramwell was a force to be reckoned with when it came to warfare at sea, and the man was offering Alaric his service, along with five ships.

    ¡°So,¡± Bramwell pressed, watching Alaric closely, ¡°what say you? Do we have a deal?¡±

    Alaric did not answer right away, thinking through it some more. The fire crackled softly in the background as the room seemed to hold its breath. Finally, he nodded, his decision made. ¡°I think I might be able to arrange that, land in return for service. Yes, I accept your offer and welcome you into Dekar¡¯s service.¡±

    At this, Caxatarus¡¯s hand came down on the table with a satisfying thud, his face breaking into a broad grin. ¡°I told you,¡± he said, looking triumphantly at Bramwell. ¡°I bloody told you he¡¯d agree, that he would see the sense of it all.¡±

    Alaric realized there had been doubt on the other side of the table. In truth, he would be a fool to turn them away, especially with war on the horizon.

    ¡°You did,¡± Bramwell acknowledged with a chuckle, then turned back to Alaric, his expression one of renewed respect and camaraderie. ¡°I¡¯ve always liked you, and now more so, my friend.¡±

    ¡°Before I leave town,¡± Alaric said, ¡°I will speak with the mayor. You and your ships will always have a place here in Dekar, a safe anchorage to hole up. Just make sure your sailors behave themselves. I¡¯d not have this town descend into anarchy every time you put into port. In fact, that is non-negotiable, especially if you plan on making Dekar their home. They¡¯ll need to put down roots here, form families¡ª¡±

    ¡°Of course,¡± Bramwell quickly interjected, nodding in agreement as he glanced at Caxatarus. The seriousness of Alaric¡¯s stipulation was not lost on them; that much was clear. Maintaining order was essential to Alaric¡¯s long-term plans throughout all of Dekar. There would be no exceptions.

    ¡°We will control our men,¡± Caxatarus affirmed, his voice carrying the weight of responsibility. ¡°I will see to that personally.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Alaric said, finally taking another sip of his sour ale.

    ¡°I do have some suggestions as to how Smuggler¡¯s Landing can be made more useful,¡± Bramwell added, ¡°that is, if you would hear them?¡±

    ¡°I would.¡± Alaric nodded for his friend to continue.

    ¡°I know you plan on building more piers for mooring additional ships.¡± Bramwell¡¯s eyes shone with a strategic gleam as he laid out his thoughts. ¡°But make the docks longer and wider to accommodate more freight, to allow ships to be unloaded and loaded more easily, more rapidly, and then push off to anchor.¡±

    ¡°I will speak to the mayor on that,¡± Alaric responded promptly, recognizing the value in Bramwell¡¯s suggestions, ¡°and see what can be done.¡±

    ¡°Also,¡± Bramwell continued, leaning slightly forward to emphasize his next point, ¡°bring in more carpenters, those who specialize in work on ships, and sailmakers and the like when it comes to skilled labor. Put a focus on those types of people, ones who are useful to us. Additional dried foodstuffs¡ªhardtack, salt-pork, and beef¡ªwould be a plus for ships looking to rapidly reprovision and put back out to sea. That stuff is easily stored and will last forever. You should be able to make some good coin off of it too.¡±

    Alaric gave a thoughtful nod, understanding the necessity of having skilled labor that could cater specifically to the needs of the seafaring community. The suggestion on food stores made sense too. ¡°More skilled craftsmen who cater to a ship captain¡¯s needs,¡± he echoed, summarizing the idea succinctly, ¡°and long-term provisions on hand, stored in abundance.¡±

    ¡°Yes, exactly,¡± Bramwell affirmed, pleased with Alaric¡¯s receptive response. ¡°You have that on hand and ships don¡¯t need to linger as long as provisions are gathered. Time wasted in port costs us money.¡±

    ¡°Grog would be a welcome addition too.¡± Caxatarus thumped his near-empty mug down on the table. ¡°All that¡¯s available in town is this shitty ale and poor-quality mead and wine. More taverns, ones that a sailor will like, and with easy women who readily accept a man¡¯s coin for some pleasure in bed.¡±

    Alaric chuckled, then after a moment sobered. ¡°You¡¯ve met Mayor Brakenhill, yes?¡±

    ¡°We have,¡± Bramwell confirmed. ¡°He seems a good sort. A former soldier, if I am not mistaken.¡±

    ¡°You are not mistaken. I trust him implicitly. Before I leave,¡± Alaric continued, turning the conversation toward a more formal arrangement, ¡°I shall appoint you as one of his advisors.¡±

    ¡°Advisor?¡± Bramwell echoed, the surprise evident in his voice. He scowled at Alaric as he tapped his chest. ¡°Me, an advisor? Whatever for?¡±

    ¡°Yes, you,¡± Alaric confirmed, his tone firm. ¡°That way, you can tell him exactly what you feel the town needs and what you and your men require. He will do his best to make it happen.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Bramwell said.

    ¡°That way,¡± Alaric added, ¡°I don¡¯t have to be involved in the smaller details. With all I am doing, I have enough headaches. All I want is to be kept in the loop. If I don¡¯t like something, I will let you both know straightaway.¡±

    Bramwell still appeared taken aback by the proposition. ¡°I¡¯ve never been an advisor to anyone,¡± he admitted, his uncertainty clear.

    ¡°Well,¡± Alaric countered, his voice imbued with encouragement, ¡°if you want to put down roots here, you might as well have some ownership in the town and how it develops, some say in what goes on here. Just speak your mind. The rest will work its way out. I¡¯m certain of it.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s not a bad idea,¡± Caxatarus interjected. ¡°You could speak for us sailors, Captain.¡±

    This strategic move would allow Bramwell to directly influence local governance and ensure that the needs of the incoming community of sailors were met. Alaric thought it a clever maneuver, effectively integrating and tying Bramwell and his crew into the fabric of Dekar, while offloading some responsibilities that could bog down Alaric¡¯s broader rule.

    ¡°Think of it as part of your investment here¡ªnot just in land, but in the community,¡± Alaric explained further. ¡°Your insights as a sailor and a leader could greatly benefit the town and port¡¯s development, especially as I aim for Smuggler¡¯s Landing to become a prominent maritime hub.¡±

    Bramwell pondered Alaric¡¯s words, the initial shock of the suggestion giving way to a slow, understanding nod. The role of advisor would empower him to help shape the future of the town in a way that supported both the local and maritime populations. From his look, it was clear to Alaric that his friend understood as much.

    ¡°Alright,¡± Bramwell finally said, a decisive tone taking over. ¡°I¡¯ll take on the role. It¡¯s a good opportunity to make sure our needs align with the town¡¯s growth.¡±

    Alaric smiled, pleased with Bramwell¡¯s acceptance. This arrangement would strengthen their alliance and, by extension, the strategic and economic positioning of Dekar.

    ¡°Good,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Then, since we¡¯ve got the business out of the way, let¡¯s enjoy a few drinks, some food, and company, for I cannot linger. I must head back in the morning.¡±

    ¡°I am afraid there is more,¡± Bramwell said as Alaric went to take another drink. The captain leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table, clasping both hands.

    Alaric set his mug back down. ¡°More?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Bramwell continued, his voice bearing the weight of their import. ¡°One of the reasons we came was because we were chartered to bring passengers here to Smuggler¡¯s Landing.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Alaric¡¯s interest piqued, wondering who these passengers were.

    ¡°Two knights and a dozen men-at-arms between them,¡± Caxatarus added, ¡°from the order of Saint Vinthus. They paid well to be brought to Dekar.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of their order,¡± Alaric admitted, his confusion apparent, thinking back to the two knights he¡¯d seen outside the tavern. ¡°Why would they want to come here?¡±

    ¡°They believe in the restoration,¡± Bramwell disclosed.

    Alaric straightened on his stool, his relaxed demeanor evaporating. His mood darkened. ¡°Of the Ordinate?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Bramwell said. ¡°That is the purpose of their order, their mission to bring about a second coming of the empire and¡ª¡±

    ¡°They came to see me to make it happen,¡± Alaric finished.

 Chapter 3

    Alaric turned as a creaking hinge announced the door of the tavern¡¯s common room swinging open. The room, now dimly lit by a handful of flickering candles on tables, hanging oil lamps, and the hearth¡¯s soft glow, held an air of quiet anticipation for what was to come. The windows had been shuttered to keep out the chill, as the night had come on in full force.

    Besides Ezran and Thorne, who were standing just behind and flanking him, Alaric was the only other soul within the walls of the tavern, as his recent companions had returned to their ship. Bramwell and Caxatarus had preparations to make for their ship¡¯s departure come morning, when the tide changed.

    Soon after Alaric accepted them into his service, they had only been too eager to sail and link up with the rest of their small fleet, which was anchored in coves along the coast of Dekar. Bramwell had told Alaric he wanted to consolidate his ships before war began, which he thought would be soon. At least that was the excuse given. Though he¡¯d said otherwise, Alaric suspected Bramwell intended to get a head start on his raiding of Averndale¡¯s shipping.

    Both men promised to return for a few drinks later in the evening, once the departure preparations had been attended to, and to bring a small barrel of grog¡ªa prospect that filled Alaric with a mixture of dread and resignation. The potent drink was far from his favorite, but tonight was not a night for preferences, especially with the poor-quality ale available. In truth, it would be a night for relaxation and friendship¡ªthat was, after he dealt with some business first.

    The two knights that entered were the same ones Alaric glimpsed earlier in the day, out amongst the crowd. Both men were statuesque, their broad shoulders and upright stances betraying years of military training, along with confidence. Their faces were marked by lines of experience and time in the field. Their eyes, sharp and calculating, seemed to miss nothing as they both scanned the room before moving toward Alaric.

    As they approached, their boots thunking on the floorboards, the dim lantern light caught the gleam of the pommels of their ornate and well-polished sword hilts. Upon reaching him, they executed a practiced kneel, their heads bowed in a gesture of deep reverence. After a moment, still kneeling, they straightened, gazing up at him.

    ¡°You wished to speak with me?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°In fact, I believe you insisted upon it, said it was a matter of grave importance.¡±

    ¡°They did insist, my lord,¡± Thorne said.

    ¡°We seek to swear our loyalty to you, holy lord,¡± one of the knights declared, his voice resonating with a deep, grave timbre that filled the quiet and empty tavern. ¡°We desire to enter your service.¡±

    ¡°We would join you, holy lord,¡± the other knight said, his voice just as deep and confident, but tinged with a slight foreign accent, as if common was not his first and native tongue. Alaric could not place where the man hailed from.

    The repeated invocation of ¡°holy lord¡± echoed uncomfortably in Alaric¡¯s ears. He shifted his stance. The title, though meant to honor, dredged up old worries¡ªand potential dangers.

    ¡°Rise, sir knights,¡± Alaric commanded, his tone carrying an edge of formality and authority, not to mention irritation, which he was doing his best to conceal. He really did not need this, not now.

    Obedient yet deliberate, the knights rose to their full height, their movements fluid and synchronized, as if they had practiced in advance. The air between them crackled with tension as their eyes, sharp and assessing, fixed upon Alaric. The knight to the left briefly allowed his gaze to drift past Alaric, landing on Thorne for a heartbeat, and then Ezran, where it lingered a few moments longer. His eyes narrowed, a flash of undisguised hostility betraying his thoughts when it came to the ash man, before his attention snapped back to Alaric.

    ¡°I would have your names,¡± Alaric demanded. ¡°I would know who I am speaking with.¡±

    ¡°I am Sir Marcus Eld,¡± replied the knight with the piercing gaze. His eyes flicked back to Ezran for a heartbeat¡¯s more scrutiny. There was a dangerous and hateful gleam within them. Alaric did not turn to see Ezran¡¯s response, though he imagined the former ash man was staring straight back at Eld without shying away. Ezran had never been one to back down from a challenge.

    ¡°And I am Sir Dengarven Torrin,¡± added the other knight, the one with the accent, his tone slightly warmer, but, unlike his companion, his face remained an unreadable mask. Whatever feeling he had toward ash men was thoroughly concealed.

    ¡°And you both are of the order of Saint Vinthus?¡± Alaric asked, though he already knew the answer, courtesy of Bramwell.

    ¡°We are,¡± Eld replied, his eyes briefly flicking to Torrin in a silent exchange that did not go unnoticed by Alaric. ¡°You have heard of us, of our holy order?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric responded flatly, maintaining his composed demeanor. ¡°At least, not until today, not until the man who transported you here told me.¡±

    ¡°Ah, Bramwell. It is understandable you have not heard of Saint Vinthus,¡± Torrin said. ¡°Our association is small. We are mostly a closed order and not well-known. Few are admitted to our holy ranks. Those who are must prove their faith in the old ways, and that is not an easy thing to do. Many do not make the grade or pass the tests of faith and are turned away.¡±

    The mention of the old ways piqued Alaric¡¯s interest¡ªa reference to ancient customs, ones likely unique to Saint Vinthus. Alaric wondered what those tests involved, then decided he did not much care. What he was more concerned about was why they were here and desiring to enter his service. In truth, he knew the answer to that question, but wanted to hear it in their own words and judge their real intentions.

    ¡°I take it you both have traveled far?¡± he ventured, seeking to uncover the lengths to which their convictions had driven them.

    ¡°From the Southern Isles, holy lord, where our order is based,¡± Eld admitted, a trace of weariness seeping into his tone. ¡°It took many months for us to come, to find you, but we came nonetheless for duty, not to mention a higher calling commanded it.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s gaze lingered on the two knights, assessing the determination etched into their features and the fatigue hidden just beneath the surface, which he recognized. His mind raced with the implications of the length of their journey, one of many months, the dedication of which it spoke, and the possible ramifications of swearing allegiance to him.

    With war on the horizon, Alaric understood he would be a fool to turn away men, two knights, clearly trained and experienced warriors, and their men-at-arms. However, the consequences of accepting them into his service were also an important factor to consider. It was not something he desired, for they were clearly true believers, fanatics, and in Alaric¡¯s experience, such people had a real tendency to cause trouble and headaches, for not everyone thought or felt the faith the way they did. Most others were more liberal in their beliefs. Alaric had learned that lesson in the holy lands the hard way. The experience taught him to be cautious around such people.

    ¡°So,¡± Alaric finally broke the heavy silence that had grown inside the tavern, his voice carrying a mix of curiosity and caution, ¡°why me?¡±

    ¡°You well know why we are here, holy lord,¡± Torrin stated firmly, ¡°why we have come.¡±

    ¡°I would hear it, your reasoning,¡± Alaric insisted, his tone indicating that no half-truths would satisfy his demand. ¡°Have it out in the open between us. That way, there can be no misunderstandings later.¡±

    ¡°You are the heir to the Ordinate,¡± Eld revealed with unflinching directness. ¡°The rightful successor to the throne.¡±

    ¡°Am I? Are you so sure?¡±

    ¡°We are certain.¡± Eld nodded firmly. ¡°You are the one we seek.¡±

    ¡°Our order is dedicated to seeing the restoration of the old order, the true order, the one that the gods ordained,¡± Torrin added, his voice laden with a zeal that matched the intensity of his stare. ¡°That goal is what we work toward and why we have traveled so far, why we are now in your very presence.¡±

    Behind Alaric, Thorne shifted uncomfortably. Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he digested the weight of their declaration. The Ordinate was a term steeped in ancient power, now whispered only by those who clung to the past, thought it held some overarching glory, or sought to revive its long-lost dominance. It was something Alaric was loath to attempt.

    ¡°And if I am not the one you think I am?¡± Alaric challenged, his question not just a test of their conviction, but a probe into their preparedness for disappointment, how they would handle it if he decided to turn them away. If things went badly, he might need to kill them and their men.

    ¡°You are the one we seek, the one we have dedicated our lives to finding,¡± Eld responded without hesitation. ¡°Long have we searched for the heir to empire, and now we have found him.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s skepticism did not wane. ¡°How do you know, then? How can you be so sure the one you seek is me? I would hear your reasoning.¡±

    ¡°In the Malden Desert to the far south,¡± Eld said, ¡°deep in the sands, after months¡ªreally years¡ªof our order searching, we found the Great Library of Thanis. Though buried, it was nearly intact.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Ezran exclaimed, clearly rocked by the revelation. ¡°You found the library? How about the Temple of Sepherus?¡±

    Alaric looked back at the ash man and scowled at him for the interruption. Ezran¡¯s eyes narrowed as he stared back at Eld. He paid no attention to his sworn liege.

    ¡°I will do the talking here,¡± Alaric said.

    Ezran almost jumped, but looked over at Alaric and gave a curt nod.

    After a moment, Alaric turned back to regard the two knights. What they said had registered. The mention of the great library sent a chill down Alaric¡¯s spine. It meant they¡¯d found not just the library, but the capital of the Ordinate, of which the library was legendary, something that had been lost to the ages.

    At the time of its height, the library contained an accumulation of the world¡¯s knowledge, a repository so vast that it was said to hold the histories of entire worlds, not just those referring to men, but the other races as well, those that were now more myth and legend than anything else.

    That these knights had not only found the lost capital but also the library and unearthed something within its ancient texts that led them directly to him was more than concerning; it was outright worrying, alarming even. It was a revelation that could not be taken lightly.

    Then again, the library had been lost for centuries. Were they telling the truth? Had they actually located it? Or had they found out the truth in some other way, as Bramwell and a handful of others had? Alaric took a moment to collect his thoughts, his mind racing with the implications of their claim. The weight of a destiny he never asked for seemed to settle upon his shoulders with the heaviness of the ages.

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    ¡°Yes,¡± Torrin added, ¡°we found the lost city, the first capital of the Ordinate, a place the gods themselves buried and have long kept hidden from mortal eyes.

    ¡°We were led there¡­¡± Torrin¡¯s voice held a distant tinge. His hand went to a pocket, feeling something held there. ¡°Most important of all, we found the Archive of Souls, the accounting of the purest of pure, and there we studied the bloodlines of the great houses of the empire, tracing the lines down to the last days of the empire with great care. It took further research, delving into the records of the nobility kept in Bashier, but an heir, a true heir to the throne, yet lives.¡±

    ¡°You,¡± Eld said plainly, gesturing at Alaric, ¡°and you know it too. I can see the truth in your eyes.¡±

    ¡°I do not seek this,¡± Alaric stated plainly, his voice a calm counter to the fervor he faced, ¡°that which you want, desire, and work toward. I want it not.¡±

    ¡°I can read that truth as well,¡± Eld said.

    ¡°It is not what we want,¡± Torrin corrected him gently, yet with an intensity that suggested there was no room for negotiation. ¡°It is what our god demands¡ªcommands of us, the god I know you follow as well. He has led us to you. And soon, the rest of our order will follow. I suspect in time others will come as well, drawn by the holy spirit to your doorstep.¡±

    Feeling a terrible unhappiness, Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly. He did not want this, not in the slightest. ¡°I am not convinced.¡±

    ¡°We are,¡± Eld persisted. ¡°And we already know a lumina and Luminary have taken sanctuary with you, serve you. That knowledge is spreading. It is proof enough you are the one we seek, the one we have come for.¡±

    ¡°That proves nothing,¡± Alaric countered sharply. ¡°You may still have the wrong person.¡±

    ¡°We do not have the wrong person,¡± Torrin said, ¡°and, holy lord, you know it. Do not insult our intelligence by denying it.¡±

    ¡°You ask me to accept a crown, a mantle I never sought, one I don¡¯t want, on the word of an ancient text,¡± Alaric continued, his tone growing colder. ¡°You¡¯ll need more than old scrolls and fervent beliefs to convince me.¡±

    ¡°We have that as well.¡± Torrin reached into his pocket and withdrew a golden compass, much like the one Alaric had taken from Kemm and given to Father Boatman, but this one was larger and more ornate. There was a sigil on it, which the man¡¯s finger partially covered. Alaric felt the ring on his finger begin to warm, even as, like a moth to flame, his eyes were drawn to the compass.

    With a flick of his wrist, Torrin snapped the compass open, revealing the dial, arm, and hand, which pointed directly at Alaric¡¯s chest. The compass began to glow with a light all its own, softly at first, as Torrin held it out toward Alaric. Its luminous glow intensified, casting eerie shadows on the worn wood of the tavern¡¯s tables and the walls. Then the light began driving back the darkness.

    ¡°A miracle.¡± Thorne¡¯s gasp echoed slightly, a sound of awe and fear mingled together, resonating deeply in the suddenly thick atmosphere of the room. ¡°A bloody miracle. Our god is speaking¡­¡±

    ¡°Tucked away in a corner on a sandy and dusty shelf, we found this relic in the library, one that responds only to the Eldar,¡± Torrin explained, his voice filled with reverence and conviction as he took a deliberate step closer to Alaric, whose gaze was still fixed upon the glowing relic. The compass in Torrin¡¯s hand blazed even brighter, fully illuminating the tavern. ¡°It called to me, as it now calls to you, speaks even.¡±

    Alaric felt something within him. He wasn¡¯t sure what that was, but it was a tug, a pull to take the compass from Torrin¡¯s hand. He resisted the urge, pushing back against it.

    ¡°As you can see,¡± Torrin said, ¡°we were led directly to you, holy lord, for the blood of the Eldar runs in your veins. This holy talisman pulled us to you.¡± The knight hesitated a moment, then extended his hand closer to Alaric. ¡°It may even be meant for you.¡±

    Gaze fixed upon the compass, Alaric swallowed, his skepticism clashing with the undeniable reality unfolding before him. Eldanar¡¯s power was blazing forth before him in all its radiance. He could feel it against his skin, a slight tingle and a warmth in his heart, which had begun to race.

    It was then the murmur of indistinct voices caught his attention next, as if the very air around him whispered secrets long held. Alaric shook himself. He could hear the voices, as if several people had been hiding and were now quietly whispering amongst themselves.

    Scowling, Alaric glanced around, searching for the source of the voices, the whispering, half-expecting to discover hidden figures lurking in the shadows or standing just outside the windows, gazing inward with an ear pressed to the pane. Only, there was no one else present in the common room and the windows had been shuttered. The door to the kitchen stood firmly shut as well. On Alaric¡¯s request for this meeting, Vertax and his wife had even left for an hour. Less than a quarter of an hour had passed and no light was coming from under the kitchen door.

    As the whispering continued, Alaric¡¯s attention was drawn back by a subtle warmth encircling his index finger. It was growing warmer with every passing heartbeat. He looked down to find the ring he wore¡ªanother artifact of unclear and mysterious origins, his family ring and signet¡ªbeginning to emit a pale light, as if responding to the compass¡¯s proximity and energy, Eldanar¡¯s power.

    The interaction between the two was unsettling, suggesting a connection between his fate and these relics of a forgotten and lost past. He turned his gaze to the compass again, its glow now a brilliant radiance that pulsed in time with his own racing heartbeat. It was calling to him, demanding he reach out and take the compass.

    Alaric¡¯s hand twitched. He almost reached for it. Only with effort did he stay his hand, keep himself from taking it. He shook his head.

    ¡°I don¡¯t want this,¡± Alaric stated firmly, his voice carrying strong defiance. The declaration was more than a refusal of the crown; it was a rejection of a destiny that forces beyond his control sought to impose upon him. ¡°I don¡¯t want to become trapped by this¡ªthis fate. If I pick up the banner, raise it, it will see killing on an unprecedented scale¡­ I¡¯ve seen enough already to last me a lifetime.¡±

    ¡°Whether you desire it or not is immaterial,¡± Eld said with unwavering certainty, his voice firm and resonant. ¡°You have been chosen.¡±

    ¡°That is yet to be seen,¡± Alaric retorted.

    ¡°In our minds it has, and this proves it.¡± Torrin shook the compass before Alaric and then snapped it closed, abruptly extinguishing the light. The urge to take the compass died almost instantly. The knight tucked the now inert object back into his tunic. Alaric felt the warmth of the ring fade. The light emanating from it died off too. It took Alaric a moment to realize the whispers were gone.

    ¡°I will hold this compass until you ask for it,¡± Torrin said.

    ¡°We have come to serve,¡± Eld said simply. ¡°And soon, the rest of our order will join us.¡±

    Alaric took a deep breath, then let it out as he regarded the two men for a long moment, his mind racing. His heart was still hammering away in his chest from the experience. He took several more breaths to slow it. What was he to do with them? If he turned them away, would they leave? He seriously doubted it.

    No, Eld and Torrin would remain and make a nuisance of themselves, drawing even more attention to his heritage, something few knew, especially his king and fellow nobles. If they did, he would become a target, and an immediate threat, one to be dealt with swiftly.

    ¡°If I accept your service¡ª¡±

    ¡°You will,¡± Eld interrupted with a firm tone of voice.

    Alaric felt his anger fire. ¡°That may not come to pass. I get to choose who serves me and who does not. As lord of my domain, do you not agree?¡±

    Eld inclined his chin slightly. ¡°I do.¡± The two words had been said grudgingly.

    ¡°If I accept your service, you must not speak of who you think I am or will become, until I tell you to,¡± Alaric said with firmness. ¡°And that includes your men. There are far too many who would fight that which you seek¡­¡± Alaric found himself hesitating. ¡°The restoration of the empire.¡±

    Eld and Torrin exchanged a look filled with silent meaning. Torrin gave a nod of acceptance as he looked back. ¡°We find that agreeable.¡±

    ¡°That said, I do not think I am the one you seek, nor do I want to be. I may be blessed more than others, but it doesn¡¯t feel right to me¡­ it just doesn¡¯t.¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Torrin said.

    ¡°Feelings have nothing to do with it. You are the one,¡± Eld affirmed.

    ¡°As I said, that is yet to be seen,¡± Alaric said, hardening his tone. ¡°If I am not ultimately the one you seek, I will release you from service and do all I am able to find the one who is. If you can abide by those terms, I will accept you into my service. If not, I would ask you to move on and trouble me no more.¡±

    Eld and Torrin exchanged another look, then turned back to face him.

    ¡°We also find that acceptable,¡± Torrin said.

    ¡°Our ultimate lord and master moves in mysterious ways,¡± Eld said. ¡°Perhaps now is simply not the time for you to act, for you to embrace your destiny.¡±

    ¡°That is a good point,¡± Torrin said with a nod. ¡°When the moment arrives, HE will show you, convince you.¡±

    Alaric scowled again at the two knights. He had to concede they might be correct. But¡ªhe prayed they weren¡¯t. After a moment, he placed both hands upon his hips.

    ¡°Now that we are in agreement,¡± Alaric said, hoping he wasn¡¯t making a mistake, ¡°kneel and swear your fealty to me. Say the words before these witnesses, and God.¡±

    Torrin knelt first and bowed his head. ¡°Before the eyes of God and all assembled here, I, Sir Dengarven de Torrin, do solemnly pledge and bind my service and loyalty to you, Alaric, Earl of Dekar, as your faithful vassal. With my heart and my blade, I vow to uphold your dominion, protect your lands, and honor your name. I swear to bear arms in your cause, to stand steadfast in the face of adversity, and to pursue justice under your banner. My sword and my counsel are yours, as are the swords and service of my loyal men-at-arms. In peace, I shall be your shield; in war, your spear, an extension of your sword. From this day until my last, I bind my fate to you. This oath I swear before the holy, so may God and HIS saints bear witness to my words.¡±

    Eld knelt and, like Torrin, bowed his head before Alaric. ¡°Under the watchful gaze of the Almighty and this gathering, I, Marcus of Eld, do hereby commit my loyalty and service to you, Alaric of Dekar, my true and rightful lord. With devotion and steel, I promise to defend your honor, assist you in the governance of your lands, and uphold your causes. I vow to carry your standard into battle, to shield the weak under your name, and to execute your will with unwavering faith. My allegiance and that of my men-at-arms are now bound to your command. In times of tranquility, I shall be your counsel; in times of conflict, your vanguard. From this moment ¡®til death parts my spirit from this body, I am yours. This oath I pledge with a pure heart, before God and witnesses.¡±

    Alaric was silent for a moment. The oaths uttered were a serious commitment, formal even, and also a responsibility, one that required a suitable response.

    ¡°In the presence of the divine and this assembly, I, Alaric and Earl of Dekar, accept both your oaths, and do hereby acknowledge you as my loyal vassals and guardians of my realm. You have pledged your swords and wisdom to my cause, and in return, I vow to uphold your rights and grant you the protection of my power. Your men-at-arms shall be honored under my banner and their valor recognized in my court. Together, we shall strive for prosperity and justice within our lands. In times of peace and in times of challenge, I shall be your liege as you are my shield. Let our bond be strong and our endeavors be righteous in the eyes of our ultimate lord and master. As God is our witness, may this oath bind us in mutual respect and duty.¡±

    Alaric paused, the weight of the moment settling. ¡°Rise.¡±

    As the fire in the hearth crackled in the background, both men came to their feet. There was a moment of silence.

    ¡°Command us,¡± Eld said, breaking the silence with a voice both resolute and expectant.

    ¡°We leave at dawn. Have you secured lodging?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°No,¡± Eld replied, his tone slightly apologetic. ¡°We are still living aboard the ship. Our gear and mounts are housed there as well.¡±

    ¡°Bramwell is sailing with the morning¡¯s tide. Seek out Mayor Brakenhill and inform him you are now under my protection and, more importantly, in my service,¡± Alaric instructed. ¡°He may only be able to offer you tents, but it will suffice, at least for the night. Get your gear and mounts unloaded immediately. Be prepared to depart by first light, for we are headed to Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest. Understood?¡±

    Both Eld and Torrin nodded.

    ¡°Then get moving,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I would have you rested come morning, for it is a long way. We will speak more later.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Eld responded.

    Together, both knights bowed formally, the gesture a silent acknowledgment of their newfound allegiance. They made their way to the door, which Torrin opened and stepped through. Eld stopped at the door, a hand on the frame, and cast a lingering glance back toward Ezran, his expression a complex tapestry of what appeared to be dislike, regret, and resolve. Then his gaze flicked to Alaric and his expression hardened. With a quiet determination, he stepped outside and closed the door behind him, the soft click of the latch echoing the finality of the moment.

    ¡°That,¡± Thorne said, ¡°might become a problem.¡±

    ¡°It already is a problem,¡± Ezran said, his gaze still on the closed door.

    Alaric¡¯s expression darkened as he turned away from the door, the gravity of Thorne¡¯s words and Ezran¡¯s reply weighing heavily on him. Thinking about what just occurred and what he¡¯d done, a profound unease settled in his chest. Moving across the room, he approached a sturdy oak table. There, he had earlier placed a jar of ale and a mug.

    Alaric poured the amber liquid from the jar into the mug. He took a hearty swig, the ale¡¯s bitterness mirroring his mood. Setting the mug down with more force than necessary, he exhaled deeply. He looked back on Thorne and Ezran. Both also wanted what Eld and Torrin desired of him, the raising of a fallen banner. It was something his father and grandfather had cautioned him against pursuing. Like those who had come before him, Alaric had worked to conceal his heritage, to actively hide it. His father had even killed to keep the secret.

    He could still feel the power radiating from the compass, the pull it exerted on him, his heart hammering in his chest, the whispers in the background. His god wanted something of him, desired him to accept a destiny he most certainly did not want¡ªfor it would be one drenched in blood.

    ¡°You are correct,¡± Alaric began. ¡°This already is a problem.¡±

 Chapter 4

    With a tug on the reins, Alaric guided Fire to the side of the dusty road, moving out of the way and around a cumbersome, heavily laden freight wagon traveling in the opposite direction. A canvas tarp was strapped down tightly over the wagon¡¯s bed, with the ends of freshly cut lumber sticking out the back. The wagon creaked and clacked as it trundled forward, the team of two horses clopping steadily away as they pulled it in a weary manner.

    The teamster, sitting on the driver¡¯s box, spotting the figure of his lord and recognizing him at the last moment, opened his mouth wide enough to catch flies before hastily removing his cap, a dirty knit thing that had seen better days. He waved it enthusiastically in greeting. Though the man¡¯s mouth opened and closed, no sound came out.

    ¡°Good day,¡± Alaric said as the man rode by. Behind him, his mounted escort, riding five yards back, split and rode around the wagon on both sides. The men-at-arms who were afoot followed suit.

    ¡°Good¡­ good day, my lord,¡± the man finally managed to stammer and then the wagon was firmly in their wake as they continued onward, the man standing on the driver¡¯s box and looking back at Alaric.

    Casting a glance over his shoulder, Alaric observed Thorne. Ezran came immediately after. Behind them and just past the wagon, the rest of his mounted escort closed back up in the middle of the road and maintained a loose column of two, followed by both knights and their respective men-at-arms. Eld and Torrin were conversing amongst themselves as they rode their own mounts, two powerful and magnificent warhorses, clearly raised to charge into battle.

    Though he had not intended so when he rode to Smuggler¡¯s Landing, Alaric¡¯s¡ªDekar¡¯s¡ª military might had grown. He was not quite sure he had done the right thing by accepting both knights into his service, not to mention taking Bramwell on. Time would tell if he made the correct decisions concerning them. On the bright side, Alaric knew, in the years and months ahead, he¡¯d see more of Bramwell. Kevahn would become the man¡¯s home and port of call, as it would a great many of his sailors.

    Shifting in the saddle, Alaric stretched his back, working out the stiffness as his horse continued forward at a slow and steady walk. The journey from Smuggler¡¯s Landing had begun an hour before dawn. Alaric glanced up at the sun and judged they had been on the road for at least four hours. The ride unfolded without incident, a welcome but not unexpected monotony.

    ¡°Boring is good in my scroll,¡± Alaric said quietly to himself. ¡°I will take it every single day.¡±

    As if in answer, Fire snorted.

    They¡¯d encountered a steady stream of wagons and carts, laden with an assortment of goods, making their way toward Smuggler¡¯s Landing. Like the wagon they¡¯d just passed, he¡¯d seen mainly lumber, from logging camps and foodstuffs from local farms. Among these were a few empty and slow-moving wagons, rattling back in the opposite direction, away from the town.

    Since its completion just before last winter, the road had rapidly become a main artery of commerce, frequented not only by merchants, but also by farmers. These hardy folk passed by in carts and wagons, eager to barter or sell their produce in the bustling market of Smuggler¡¯s Landing. Travelers of various sorts also walked the road, each with their own personal stories etched into the lines of their weary and dusty faces.

    On either side of the road, the countryside bore witness to Alaric¡¯s innovative land grant and purchase system, a cornerstone of his efforts to stabilize and enrich Dekar. The fields, though mostly small by nature of the grants, were rich with budding spring crops, speaking to the land¡¯s fertility and the farmers¡¯ hard work.

    Free from the fear of bandits and the lawlessness that once plagued the region, people were investing more deeply in their toil, the work at building a future for themselves, secure in the knowledge that their efforts would not be undermined by violence or theft, their bounty stolen. The bedrock upon which all this had been built was law and order, peace.

    The construction of the road had been an immense effort and undertaking, a strategic endeavor that required the mobilization of hundreds of workers over the span of more than a year. This completed road was but one step of his vision coming to life, a part of a larger, ambitious network that crisscrossed Dekar.

    Alaric had commissioned several other roads to be constructed or rebuilt across his earldom. These routes were not solely for economic purposes; they were integral to weaving the distant and isolated parts of his territory into the central fold, with a strong focus on improving communications. They were strategic linchpins for the rapid movement of his growing military might. His troops would be able to better mobilize, concentrate, and respond with unprecedented speed and swiftness, a critical advantage should a serious threat arise.

    Alaric sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly as they passed a small farm. The house was a meager, one-room affair with a thatched roof. A few yards away, a barn was partially constructed, the timber frame only half raised. The farmer, his two little children, and his wife were in the field, picking weeds from amongst their crops. All four stopped their work to watch the procession pass. A dog stood amongst them, barking at the horses and men. Then, like so many other farms just like it, they were past and gone.

    As he continued his journey, it seemed the rhythmic movement of his horse¡¯s hooves matched the steady, hopeful beat of progress. The air was filled with the scent of the fields and the subtle aroma of wildflowers growing along the roadside. Above, the sky was a clear, unblemished blue, the sun brilliant.

    Alaric felt a deep, resonant connection with the land, a bond forged through duty and the ceaseless pursuit of its stewardship. However, fatigue tugged at him. He struggled to suppress a yawn, his body still feeling the effects of the previous night¡¯s extended revelries, the heavy drinking that had taken place when Bramwell and Caxatarus returned to the tavern.

    The thought of his keep, his home, and his bed spurred Alaric onward. He estimated they should arrive in the early evening hours. His mother would undoubtedly be waiting. She would claim some of his time before he could turn in for sleep, and then there was Rikka¡ªthe thought of her alone stirred a flutter of excitement in his chest and got his heart beating a tad faster.

    ¡°May I ride with you, my lord?¡±

    Alaric turned at the sound of Torrin¡¯s voice, finding the knight riding up along the side of the column, closing the distance to him. Lieutenant Ganister looked sideways at Torrin as the knight passed but said nothing. With bloodshot eyes and a weary manner, the lieutenant looked tired as well, like he, too, had done his share of drinking the night before.

    ¡°You may join me,¡± Alaric responded.

    With his heels, Torrin nudged his horse, quickening the pace of the animal to draw up alongside Alaric. Once in position, he reined in, slowing and settling into stride beside his newly sworn lord.

    ¡°I trust I am not disturbing your contemplations this morning,¡± Torrin said.

    ¡°You are not.¡± Alaric suppressed a yawn. ¡°The miles pass monotonously, and I could use the company, a diversion.¡±

    ¡°A beautiful day for a ride, then,¡± Torrin said cheerfully as he gazed about. They were passing yet another farm. This one was larger than most, several acres. No one was in view, though the fields were well tended and neat. Alaric saw a modest house, a barn, and several smaller structures set farther back and away from the road. The knight sucked in a deep breath and let it out, seeming to savor the moment. ¡°I think I am going to like Dekar. The climate is certainly much better than the great sands, the deserts to the south.¡±

    ¡°Cooler,¡± Alaric commented. ¡°Though it is a dry heat, I don¡¯t miss the hotness of those days, especially during summer.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I. And I don¡¯t miss the chafing sand that got everywhere, even in your mouth, nose, and ears.¡±

    Alaric chuckled. He¡¯d forgotten about that, how sand would find and work its way into everything, especially armor and one¡¯s boots.

    ¡°Those were hard days. I viewed it as just one more test, one which I passed,¡± Torrin said, ¡°enduring such conditions for weeks and months on end.¡±

    Alaric glanced over at the knight, then turned his gaze ahead. In the far distance, a dark smudge lay across the horizon; a forest, the first of several they would pass through. They rode for a time in silence, the clopping of hooves providing a gentle backdrop, each lost in his own thoughts as the roadway stretched out before them and the forest drew steadily nearer.

    The air was crisp and fresh. Long left behind was the stink of the town. It was neither too hot nor too cold, the quintessential perfect spring day. At least Alaric thought so.

    ¡°I am afraid the word is out about you, my lord,¡± Torrin said, finally breaking the silence.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze sharpened as he turned toward Torrin. He was instantly on guard. After a moment, he relaxed a tad. ¡°Why not? You and Eld are here.¡±

    ¡°It is more than that,¡± Torrin continued.

    ¡°I assume you told others, after your discovery in the library¡­¡±

    ¡°We did not,¡± Torrin assured him, his tone firm. ¡°We sealed the entrance and covered our tracks as best we could. I am certain no one else knows of that place from us. We took steps to ensure that. Only those of our order are aware of what we learned, what we confirmed, and they will say nothing, for you are quite correct. There would be those who will fight against the restoration of empire.¡±

    ¡°Then how?¡± Alaric pressed.

    ¡°If one knows where to look, there are other records, tracks of noble ancestry, marriages, unions, births, and deaths¡ªall kept in various libraries.¡± Torrin¡¯s words dropped like stones into the still waters of a pond. ¡°We traveled to the great sands in hunt of the library to confirm what we already suspected, what we thought we knew.¡± Torrin paused as he sucked in a breath. ¡°The truth of your lineage, my lord, it is documented elsewhere. We simply confirmed it. There are those who hunt for reasons that are different than ours. They bear watching out for.¡±

    Alaric found himself not much enjoying the conversation. It was not the diversion he¡¯d hoped for. He had known there were people searching for heirs of the empire. That was common knowledge, but records from before the Great Cataclysm and Sundering were scarce, almost nonexistent.

    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    Muddying the waters, over the years there had also been several pretenders, claimants to the throne. Each had ignited religious wars which burned tens of thousands of lives before being extinguished. That confusion had been to his family¡¯s benefit, for it kept the light and attention from them.

    ¡°I suppose that can¡¯t be helped,¡± Alaric said sourly and thought on Bramwell, who had known as well, heard others speaking on it, and brought the matter to his attention. There had always been whispers on his family¡¯s ancestry, talk of how the family was an old one. As Alaric glanced once more at Torrin, he was beginning to understand that it would most certainly become a problem.

    But how to deal with it?

    ¡°We found more than we had anticipated in that library,¡± Torrin added, ¡°more than the confirmation we sought. It was¡ª¡±

    ¡°I still don¡¯t believe I am who you want me to be,¡± Alaric said, interrupting the knight. ¡°I do not want it.¡±

    ¡°That is all right, for the moment.¡±

    ¡°It is?¡± Alaric found himself surprised by that.

    ¡°Yes, as we said last evening, I am sure, given time, our god will make you certain as we of what you must do, what you must claim.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s features tightened. Over the years, he had seen the fervor of belief transform into zealotry, leading to unimaginable strife and conflict, steering good-natured people to do terrible things. Such fanaticism seldom yielded positive outcomes, and now, the potential ramifications of his newfound lineage were quickly taking shape as a looming threat to everything he was trying to build here in Dekar. Worse, it was tied up in religion too.

    Though he was faithful in the extreme to his god, he knew the suffering he¡¯d unleash if he raised his family¡¯s banner. It was the one thing he was loath to do. Those who¡¯d directly suffer would be the innocents, the bystanders, the civilians who just wanted to live their lives in peace. In any conflict, they always suffered the worst.

    Alaric felt a stab of terrible frustration. His hand was being forced and he did not like it. He glanced over at Torrin once more, feeling the burden of his supposed destiny heavy on his shoulders. The addition of the two knights and their men-at-arms to his service complicated matters. These men, bound by duty and driven by the fervor of their faith, could either become staunch defenders or, regardless of their oaths to him, relentless adversaries, enemies of the worst kind.

    Reflecting on Torrin¡¯s words, Alaric could not help but foresee challenges lying ahead in his future. His claim to a greater legacy would incite intense opposition, not just from within his own kingdom, but also from external foes. It was a double-edged sword, one that would provoke conflict on a scale not seen in centuries. Alaric did not wish to be responsible for that coming to pass.

    ¡°Eld,¡± Alaric said, seeking to change the topic of conversation.

    ¡°What of him?¡± Torrin asked.

    ¡°I saw his look at Ezran,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Your ash man?¡± Torrin glanced back at Ezran, who was riding right behind them with Thorne at his side.

    ¡°Yes, he means me,¡± Ezran said to the knight before Alaric could respond.

    Torrin nodded and turned his gaze back to Alaric. ¡°My brother-in-arms and faith has strong feelings when it comes to your man¡¯s people.¡± Torrin glanced back once more at Ezran. ¡°He has cause not to like your people.¡±

    ¡°And what of you?¡± Ezran asked. ¡°How do you feel about me?¡±

    Leather creaking, Torrin further turned in the saddle to take in Ezran before looking over at Alaric. Torrin gestured at Ezran. ¡°I have seen some terrible things done by his people against ours. I have also witnessed the same inflicted by mine upon his.¡± Torrin turned back to Ezran again. ¡°For me, your presence is not an issue in the least. I have a more forgiving nature.¡±

    ¡°And Eld does not?¡± Ezran asked.

    ¡°Your people murdered his family, a wife and three children.¡± Sadness had crept into Torrin¡¯s tone. ¡°They raped his wife before they allowed her to die. As you can imagine, his feelings are quite strong.¡±

    Alaric almost winced at that news. ¡°Will it become a problem?¡±

    Torrin was silent for several moments. ¡°I doubt it¡ªbut it is possible. That said, Ezran is in your service. So too is Eld. I believe my brother will honor the oath he swore before God. Still, just to be certain, I will speak with him on the matter.¡±

    ¡°I will talk to him as well,¡± Alaric said, ¡°get the matter out in the open and in the sunlight. I will not have strife within my ranks. It is something I will not tolerate.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lord,¡± Torrin said. ¡°When the second empire comes, like the first, it will encompass peoples of all faiths. He will need to come to terms with that, move toward acceptance, forgiveness.¡±

    ¡°Forgiveness will be difficult,¡± Ezran said, his voice soft and etched with sadness. ¡°I understand loss, and I will never forgive what was done to mine. Acceptance might just be all we can hope for.¡±

    ¡°That might be true,¡± Torrin conceded. ¡°That might very well be true.¡±

    ¡°Nothing is ever easy.¡± Shaking his head slightly, Alaric studied the road ahead. Less than a half mile away was the forest, one of several they would traverse on their way home to Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest.

    ¡°This road.¡± Torrin gestured ahead of them with a gloved hand. ¡°It is unusual.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± Alaric asked, wondering what was wrong with it. The road had been built to his exact specifications. In fact, it was one of the best he¡¯d ever seen, the finest work his engineers had done to date. With some luck, it should last for several years before requiring serious maintenance.

    ¡°It is very different than most other roads I have come across,¡± Torrin observed. ¡°Serious thought and engineering went into its construction. This road is not merely functional; it has been raised up above the surrounding countryside, and there is drainage to either side. It is also sloped outward from the center, just enough to channel water off the surface when it rains. This road, though not paved, is designed to last, my lord.¡±

    Alaric remained silent, his mind turning over the implications of Torrin¡¯s words.

    ¡°You see, my lord, I know a great deal about the empire.¡± Torrin¡¯s voice lowered slightly as if to emphasize the weight of his knowledge. ¡°The Ordinate has been my life¡¯s study. You could even say it has become my obsession. The construction techniques employed in making this roadway aren¡¯t common knowledge¡ªat least these days¡ªnor, for that matter, regularly used. In fact, I very much doubt anyone has seen a road of this exact quality in centuries.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Alaric responded, his voice carefully controlled to mask his rising interest.

    ¡°My lord, you must have found some very talented and knowledgeable engineers to make something like this.¡± Eyes narrowed, the knight glanced over at Alaric. ¡°It is either that or you¡¯ve a well of knowledge not generally available to others, information that has been lost for centuries.¡±

    Alaric did not reply.

    ¡°Then¡ªthere¡¯s the cement that is being used back at the port. I heard workers praising its properties, that it would set and harden in water. That alone is remarkable, something no one else across the face of our world can replicate. Not since the last days of the empire was there cement with such qualities, that the seawater made stronger¡ªfor I have read histories where it was discussed in great detail.

    ¡°However, none of those accounts contain the exact mixture, the ingredients, or process with which to make the cement that builds an empire. This, along with your road, suggests a connection to ancient knowledge, or at least access to it, as I said, a well of knowledge, a revival of techniques that were thought lost. I think it is but more confirmation you are the man we seek.¡±

    Alaric absorbed this, gaze fixed on the road ahead as they continued toward the forest, closing the distance. He considered how to respond to Torrin. Then he gave a shrug, which was easier said than done, since he was wearing his armor. ¡°I am working to make Dekar strong and prosperous. I am doing everything possible, and that includes building stout, reliable, and lasting roads, drawing upon such knowledge as is available to me. That is all. Do not read into it overly much.¡±

    Torrin gave a slow nod, followed by an amused grunt. He gave Alaric a meaningful look. ¡°You had best be careful, my lord. The more Dekar prospers, the stronger you grow, the more eyes will look in your direction, shining sunlight on what you are doing here. That might prove dangerous.¡±

    Alaric let go an unhappy breath. They were closing the last few yards to the forest¡¯s edge. Ahead, down the road, he noticed movement. There was a party of men approaching, all on foot, just over a quarter of a mile distant. His eyes narrowed as he tried to discern and identify the figures. The road ahead was slightly darkened due to the trees to either side. The men seemed to be marching in a formation, a column of two. Torrin, noticing Alaric¡¯s alert posture, followed his gaze.

    ¡°Soldiers, about a dozen,¡± Alaric murmured, squinting to get a better view. He gestured ahead as he relaxed. He recognized the familiar medium-sized, round shields the men were carrying.

    ¡°Local militia¡­ just another patrol, my lord,¡± Thorne said from behind.

    ¡°Since setting out, that is the third we¡¯ve passed,¡± Torrin said. ¡°Is there really a need for that many? Are your lands so unsafe?¡±

    ¡°The villages and towns are charged with keeping the roads safe. I put the militia to good use doing it,¡± Alaric explained. ¡°Regular patrolling keeps any bandits and thieves on their toes. It also serves to keep my militia active and fit should the need arise to really call upon their services in a crisis.¡±

    ¡°I imagine it would,¡± Torrin said.

    ¡°When I returned home, things were unsafe, but no longer. I have worked hard to secure Dekar.¡±

    ¡°That is good to hear.¡± Torrin gave an approving nod.

    As they crossed the threshold into the forest, a noticeable chill enveloped Alaric and his company. The air was cool and fresh against his skin, a relief, for the sun had been heating his armor. The sun¡¯s rays filtered lazily through the dense canopy, casting dappled shadows across the wide road. Though the sun reached the roadbed, the foliage overhead promised a few hours of riding in a cooler environment.

    The forest, with its sounds and smells, had always held an allure for him, especially after his return home from the Crusade. It was a place of tranquility, and raw, natural beauty, so very different from the arid holy lands that were incredibly dry.

    His thoughts drifted to the many hunting expeditions he had embarked upon within Dekar¡¯s vast forests. Over the last two years, whenever his duties permitted, Alaric had gone off to hunt. He returned time and again with deer, hog, moose, and the occasional pheasant, a rare and prized treat.

    Each hunt sharpened his skills with the bow and deepened his connection to the land he governed. At least that was the truth he told himself, and it was a good enough excuse to break away from his never-ending duties, the burdens he shouldered. Surrounded by the comforting presence of the towering trees, Alaric felt a sudden sense of peace and longing for a hunt.

    ¡°If you are indeed looking to conceal your ancestry,¡± Torrin said, dragging Alaric back to the present, ¡°you need to be more careful, my lord, perhaps slow some of the projects you have commissioned down.¡±

    ¡°Slow down?¡± Alaric did not want to do that.

    ¡°I am told you are considering constructing an aqueduct to bring fresh water to Dark Forge. Is that true?¡±

    ¡°Yes, that is correct. It will be a major undertaking.¡± Alaric cast a wary glance at the knight beside him, poised to offer a further explanation, but his attention was abruptly drawn by movement toward the shadowy depths of the forest on his right. They were just beyond the forest¡¯s edge, where on either side, beyond the embankments of the road and the drainage ditches, the undergrowth tangled thickly, creating a screen that obscured everything beyond a few feet from sight.

    He squinted into the dense foliage, searching and straining to discern any distinct shape or further movement, but saw only the play of light and shadow in the thick undergrowth.

    Shaking his head and dismissing it as a trick of the light or an animal, perhaps a deer, Alaric turned back to the knight, mouth opening to speak. Yet the periphery of his vision flickered with movement yet again, this time from another spot. Alaric turned, searching. His gaze locked onto a figure: a man crouched low amongst the brush, his presence nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding greenery.

    Their eyes met. In them, Alaric read a cold malice.

    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡± Torrin asked.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze snapped forward. The militia was now just ten yards from him. Something about them was wrong. He had not noticed it until now. They moved in a formation so tight and orderly, it was more reminiscent of a guard¡¯s parade than a citizen militia¡¯s casual approach.

    Alaric¡¯s instincts kicked in. With a firm grip, he yanked on the reins, bringing his horse to an abrupt halt. There was a flurry of movement in the undergrowth from both sides of the road.

    ¡°Ambush!¡± Thorne shouted. ¡°To arms! Protect the lord!¡±

    Alaric¡¯s hand reached and closed around the hilt of Oathbreaker. He started to draw the weapon. A sharp hissing sound sliced through the air, passing by his right ear with the menacing buzz of an angry bee. He barely had time to register the near miss of an arrow before chaos fully erupted, with Lieutenant Ganister shouting orders to his men. Men burst from cover on each side.

    Ahead, the militia drew swords and charged right for him. Alaric jerked hard on the reins, pulling Fire around in an effort to put space between him and the charging men and get back to the protection of Ganister¡¯s detail. His horse slammed into Thorne¡¯s mount, which was moving forward, as his Shadow Guard attempted to place himself between Alaric and the oncoming militia.

    The impact jostled them both violently, almost knocking Alaric from his horse. Just then, an arrow found its mark in Fire¡¯s neck with a meaty thwack, driving deep into the flesh. The animal let out a piercing scream, pain and panic causing the horse to rear up onto his hind legs. Alaric struggled to maintain his hold, caught off guard by the sudden movement, with only one hand on the reins and the other on the hilt of his sheathed sword. His fingers were torn violently from the reins as the horse bucked again. Alaric fell backward off Fire.

    He hit the ground hard.

    The world went white.

 Chapter 5

    The sound and chaos of battle filled the air, underscored by the sharp, metallic clash of steel on steel coming together with unyielding force. Somewhere close, a horse let out a pained scream, the animal¡¯s cry slicing through the tumult. A man howled in pain and clear agony before abruptly being silenced.

    Disoriented, Alaric struggled to regain his bearings. His vision was blurred. He blinked furiously, trying to clear it, to see what was going on. He went to groan, only he couldn¡¯t. The impact had knocked the wind from his lungs, leaving him gasping and struggling for air.

    Clutching his chest, Alaric rolled from his back onto his side, the ground hard and unforgiving beneath him. Each attempt to draw breath was met with a terrifying emptiness, as if the very air had forsaken him. His heart pounded against his ribcage like a drum of war. Panic clawed at his chest.

    After what felt like an eternity of struggling, a sharp gasp broke from him. Air rushed into his lungs, filling them with the sweet breath of life.

    Relief washed over Alaric in waves, his body trembling as he embraced the precious, life-giving air, sucking it in. The sound of battle continued to rage around him, but for that fleeting moment, as Alaric lay upon his back, the simple act of breathing was like a hard-won victory.

    Still dazed and sucking in the sweet air, Alaric rolled and pressed the side of his face against the rough roadbed, feeling the cold, gritty texture of the gravel against his cheek. His vision swam dangerously, blurring the edges of his reality before it snapped back into painful clarity with a suddenness that was almost shocking. Lying on the ground, he became acutely aware of the intense pain radiating from his back.

    Confusion still clouded his mind.

    What had happened?

    Suddenly, a glint of metal caught his attention as it flashed downward, targeting his exposed side. Instinctively, Alaric moved, rolling away and onto his back just in time to see a sword point slam into the road where his body had been a heartbeat before. Shock coursed through him.

    He was under attack!

    Lifting his head, Alaric found his eyes meeting those of his assailant, a grim-faced soldier wielding the sword with deadly intent as he stepped forward.

    One of his own militia was trying to kill him.

    The man stood over him, drawing back his sword arm to strike yet again. The sword descended, its blade stabbing viciously toward Alaric. With a burst of desperation, he rolled to the side and away. The sword¡¯s point hammered into the road again, just barely missing its mark. Alaric quickly rolled onto his hands and knees, preparing to stand, to defend himself, when a sudden, fierce kick from his opponent struck him hard in the side.

    The blow landed squarely against his chest armor, and a metallic clunk resounded on the air. The impact of the kick had its intended effect, sending Alaric tumbling down again, this time to the edge of the road¡¯s embankment and into the drainage ditch that ran along its side.

    Alaric winced, more from shock than pain, but heard his attacker curse¡ªa clear sign of pain. The man¡¯s foot had met the hard, unyielding metal of Alaric¡¯s steel armor, turning the force of the kick back upon the attacker.

    Coming to a stop in the ditch, he pushed himself back to his hands and knees and then struggled to his feet, his body protesting each movement with a chorus of aches and pains. The ground was slightly muddy.

    Breathing heavily, Alaric steadied himself and looked up, his gaze scanning for his foe as his hand reached down to his side, fingers wrapping around the hilt of Oathbreaker, still sheathed at his side.

    As Alaric¡¯s fingers closed around the comforting cord grip of the sword, time itself seemed to halt. A surge of magic erupted from the blade, coursing through his veins with an almost violent intensity. He felt it all¡ªthe insatiable hunger of the sword, its deep-seated desire for blood, and the overwhelming flood of anger and rage boiling within. The very notion that someone dared to end his life ignited a fiery resolve to retaliate¡ªa need for vengeance. The pain and discomfort faded and he suddenly felt invigorated.

    Send these infidels on their way, a voice hissed through the chaos, the sword itself speaking, thirsting for blood. Send their souls to Eldanar. Send them on to judgment!

    The sword¡¯s hunger intensified, and as it did, the world snapped back into motion around Alaric. With a fierce yank, he freed Oathbreaker as he climbed from the culvert to the forest side of the road. He wanted to assess things before joining battle. As he found himself standing three feet below the raised roadbed, with the dense brush and looming trees at his back, Alaric studied the scene before him.

    The road was a whirlwind of violence and chaos. Dozens of men fought in a brutal melee, their shouts and the clash of steel filling the air. Mounted riders cut through the fray where the knights¡¯ men-at-arms fought against the enemy. The cavalry swords rose and fell with rapidity, slashing and hacking with lethal precision at the men who had masqueraded as militia. Amidst this tumult, Alaric spotted Torrin, now afoot. The knight¡¯s greatsword swung with deadly efficacy, bringing down the very man who tried to take Alaric¡¯s life, almost cutting him in two with his great blade.

    A fleeting memory flashed through Alaric¡¯s mind¡ªthe shadowy figures he glimpsed earlier, lurking amongst the trees. As the thought surfaced, a sudden rustle from behind snapped him to alertness. Instinctively, Alaric spun.

    Sword raised, a man charged forward through the brush. Alaric brought Oathbreaker up in a defensive arc, just as an enemy¡¯s sword descended in a vicious, sweeping motion aimed directly for his neck.

    The collision of the two swords produced a resounding clang that echoed through the forest and sent a shower of sparks erupting from the point of impact where the two blades grated against one another. The force of the blow reverberated down Alaric¡¯s arm, testing his grip and resolve. He stood firm, locking eyes with his assailant¡ªa grim-faced warrior whose expression twisted with surprise and fury as he realized his strike had been thwarted.

    For a mere heartbeat, the two combatants were locked in a stalemate, each assessing the other, swords interlocked, muscles tensed for the next move. Alaric¡¯s opponent, with a fierce snarl distorting his face, uttered something in a language laden with guttural tones. It took Alaric another heartbeat for recognition to dawn upon him as he identified the language. He¡¯d not heard it uttered in over two years. As realization set in, his enemy drew back, gathering strength for another vicious slash.

    The man spoke Ashani¡ªthe language of the ash men.

    Alaric did not afford him another opportunity to strike. With a rapid thrust, he extended his sword toward his adversary, hastily jabbing at him. The ash man, caught off guard, leapt backward, attempting to evade the deadly point of Alaric¡¯s blade. His foot caught in the brush, causing him to stumble and fall backward with a crash.

    Seizing the moment, Alaric was upon him in an instant. He stomped down hard on the ash man¡¯s sword arm, pinning it. The man cried out. Alaric raised Oathbreaker high, then drove it downward with unrelenting force.

    The sword¡¯s point pierced the ash man¡¯s left eye socket. Alaric felt the blade scrape against bone as it drove deep into the other¡¯s skull. Almost instantly, his enemy¡¯s body went slack.

    A fierce, triumphant yell tore from Alaric¡¯s throat, a raw expression of survival and victory in the heat of battle. He stood back, pulling Oathbreaker free from the now lifeless body of his foe. However, his moment of triumph was abruptly interrupted by a hard impact against his side. The force of the hit came with a sharp metallic crack, jarring him roughly a step to the left.

    Instinctively, Alaric whirled around to face this new threat, his eyes quickly focusing on a bowman who was kneeling less than five feet away in the trees. This archer had just loosed the arrow that struck Alaric, impacting his armor and shattering to pieces from the force of the strike. Now, the bowman was reaching for another arrow, his hand moving toward one of several missiles he had planted in the soft forest floor.

    With a defiant shout, Alaric surged forward, driven by raw urgency and desperation. The ground beneath his feet barely seemed to touch his boots as he charged toward the bowman, pushing the brush aside. The man¡¯s eyes widened in alarm, his movements betraying a sudden panic as he clumsily attempted to set an arrow to his bowstring.

    But time was not on the archer¡¯s side.

    As he nocked and drew the string back in a desperate bid to defend himself, Alaric had closed the distance between them. The archer¡¯s fingers had barely begun to pull the string taut when Alaric brought Oathbreaker down hard, in a chopping cut.

    The sword hammered into his enemy¡¯s shoulder near the collar, cutting deep, the force of the blow knocking the man backward to the forest floor. The arrow released harmlessly away into the trees. Without hesitation, Alaric pulled the blade free, the metal slick with blood, and with a grim resolve, he stabbed down. The blade punched into the archer¡¯s chest, slipping between ribs, driving deep, into the heart, killing his enemy instantly.

    Alaric pulled his sword free and stood over the fallen bowman, the fury of battle still raging behind him and along the road. He paused momentarily to catch his breath and take stock of what was happening around him. His chest heaved with each breath.

    Alaric¡¯s awareness caught the subtle motion to his left amidst the undergrowth five yards off, a rustling. A figure in the brush moved toward the road. Another man with a bow was just feet away. Without hesitation, Alaric charged through the dense undergrowth, his eyes fixed on the emerging threat.

    The man, sensing the imminent danger, turned to face Alaric. His movements were rushed as he clumsily attempted to aim his already nocked bow. With desperate speed, he drew back the string and released the arrow. Alaric, still moving forward, swiftly dodged to the left. His shoulder collided with a tree, the impact jarring him as the arrow hissed past. Its lethal point buried itself in another tree trunk behind him with a solid-sounding thunk.

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    Ignoring the pain in his shoulder, Alaric was moving again, charging this new enemy. The bowman discarded his bow and scrambled for his sword, attempting to draw the weapon. But he was too slow, and Alaric was already on him.

    With a precise and ruthless thrust, he drove Oathbreaker deep into the man¡¯s stomach, the blade sinking almost to the hilt and punching out the man¡¯s back. A choked gasp of pain and agony escaped the man¡¯s lips, his face contorting in a grimace of acute suffering.

    Seizing the man by his clothing, Alaric gave the sword a vicious twist, then forcefully shoved him backward and away as he pulled his blade free. The man¡¯s hands went to his ruined and torn stomach, where they struggled to hold in his entrails. Eyes wide with shock, he staggered back a step, then collapsed to the forest floor.

    Curling into a fetal position from the overwhelming pain, he was clearly incapacitated and now out of the fight, but Alaric could not afford to take any chances. He stabbed downward into the side of the man¡¯s neck. The sharp blade sliced with ease through flesh and cut the artery, unleashing a torrential outpour of thick, oily blood that flowed onto the forest floor. Gagging and choking briefly, the man tensed, then relaxed, twitching for several moments before going utterly still.

    Alaric¡¯s chest heaved as he scanned the surrounding woods with a sharp, vigilant gaze, hunting for any further threats from hidden bowmen. Seeing no immediate dangers, he turned his attention back toward the clamor of battle emanating from the road. The sounds of combat were intense¡ªa cacophony of metal clashing, men shouting, cursing, and screaming at one another. However, his view was obstructed by the dense brush that separated him from the main fight. He had no idea what was going on. Alaric had to get back to it, for his men were fighting for their lives.

    Determined, he pushed through the underbrush with purposeful strides. Within moments, he emerged from the brush and the chaotic scene on the road, separated by the ditch, came into view. His guard and the men-at-arms, far superior in terms of armor and armament, had torn into the ambushers with unrestrained violence after the initial shock. He took that in in a flash.

    The initial advantage of surprise that the enemy enjoyed had now been thoroughly negated, especially since his force had badly outnumbered the attackers. His men were overwhelming the last stands of resistance. The enemy, though fighting back fiercely, was clearly faltering under the relentless onslaught and sheer numbers of Alaric¡¯s party.

    Standing on the edge of the culvert, with the battle¡¯s conclusion inevitable and imminent, Alaric let go a relieved breath, releasing the tension bound within him. Both mounted and on foot, his men were pushing the remnants of the enemy back up the road and away from where he stood. Alaric jumped down into the ditch. It was still somewhat muddy from the recent rains, and his boots sank down an inch.

    He pulled himself up onto the road, his body aching as the madness of battle began to recede, replaced by a terrible weariness, along with the ache of discomfort from his back and shoulder. In fact, his entire body seemed one big ache. As he steadied himself, Ezran emerged from the brush just a few yards to his right. The relief in the former ash man¡¯s eyes was unmistakable as he, too, jumped into the ditch and clambered up onto the road beside Alaric, brushing off the leaves and dirt from his dark clothes. His saber was bloodied.

    ¡°Are you all right?¡± Ezran adjusted his stance, his eyes scanning Alaric for any signs of serious injury. ¡°I went looking for you. I saw you after you killed that last man and followed you back to the road.¡±

    ¡°I am fine,¡± Alaric said.

    In a futile attempt to salvage their lives, the last five of the enemy on their feet abruptly turned and broke into a run, heading for the safety of the trees, fleeing. Their sudden flight was met with immediate pursuit by Alaric¡¯s mounted troopers.

    ¡°After them!¡± Ganister shouted as he galloped forward. More than half a dozen horsemen responded, chasing the fleeing figures, rapidly overtaking and cutting them down with ruthless and unforgiving efficiency.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze ran across the road, which was littered with bodies, at least twenty men, the majority of whom were enemy combatants who had posed as the militia. Amidst the carnage, Torrin stood out distinctly. He had an arrow lodged in his collar, just above the lip of his chest armor. Yet he was on his feet, his bloodied sword still in hand, his eyes burning with an unquenched rage as he surveyed the fallen enemy around him, clearly wanting another opponent.

    Nearby, Eld had already sheathed his sword. He began moving toward Torrin, his expression one of concern. Just as Eld reached him, Torrin took a shaky step forward and then staggered, his strength faltering under the pain and loss of blood, which ran down the side of his armor. He fell to one knee, his sword clattering onto the road, the sound echoing ominously in the sudden stillness that followed the battle¡¯s end.

    ¡°We¡¯re going to need to get that out, my friend,¡± Eld said to the other knight as he reached him and knelt at his side.

    ¡°I suppose so.¡± Torrin grimaced from pain. ¡°It hurts bad, but I¡¯ve had worse.¡±

    ¡°Next time, try dodging,¡± Eld said.

    Torrin, having paled considerably, simply grunted in reply.

    The transition from the chaos of fighting to the eerie quiet of its aftermath was jarring. Alaric had always found it so. Three of the knights¡¯ men-at-arms lay dead. Nearby, two of Ganister¡¯s horsemen were in agony on the ground, while a third was ominously still. Men were by the sides of those injured, already tending to their needs. Among those who¡¯d been injured, one soldier arched his back, a final gesture of struggle, and cried out for his mother. It was a pitiful sound that tore at the heart. Then, he went limp and relaxed, falling still for all time.

    A short distance from the main skirmish, beyond where the fighting had been fiercest, lay Fire. Alaric took several steps toward his horse, who was motionless, legs sticking out rigidly. A wave of sadness swept over him; Fire had been more than just a mount. He had been a loyal companion and a good horse, one he¡¯d become attached to.

    The horse had clearly bolted after unseating Alaric and, in his panic, had trampled an enemy. Now, that very man was pulling himself painfully away toward the shelter of the trees, his legs dragging uselessly behind him. He left a trail of blood across the road, moving away from the horse. It was a desperate bid for survival as he clawed at the roadbed, pulling himself forward one bit at a time, the trees so close and at the same time so far away.

    As Alaric absorbed the somber scene, Thorne approached the injured enemy. Standing over the man, Thorne¡¯s silhouette cast a short shadows across the ground, the sun now almost directly overhead. The air was thick with the scent of blood; the road fairly drenched with it.

    ¡°I want prisoners,¡± Alaric called to Thorne, his anger flaring at being ambushed. Whoever orchestrated this attack and assassination attempt had made a grave mistake. ¡°I need questions answered, and he will do nicely for that.¡±

    Thorne glanced back at Alaric, then turned back to the injured enemy and regarded the struggling man for a protracted moment. He stabbed down into the back of the man¡¯s neck, ending his life.

    ¡°Thorne, I wanted prisoners!¡± Alaric roared, his rage exploding at the defiance. ¡°Did you not hear me?¡±

    ¡°There was no point in taking prisoners.¡± Thorne looked back at Alaric before kneeling next to the man whose life he just extinguished. He picked up the enemy¡¯s hand and showed the palm to Alaric, revealing the dark tattoo. ¡°They won¡¯t talk, no matter what we do to them.¡± He dropped the hand, then stood. ¡°You know this as well as I.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s heart chilled as he gazed around the road-turned-battlefield. This was not just a mere band of mercenaries, nor hired assassins, but religious zealots, bound by a cause and willing to die to a man for it. The mark symbolized their allegiance to their brotherhood, to their faith and master.

    ¡°The Black Hand,¡± Ezran hissed, looking around the battle site with fresh eyes. ¡°They are a long way from home, a very long way¡­¡±

    ¡°They won¡¯t talk,¡± Alaric echoed, a grim acceptance in his tone. The presence of the Black Hand changed everything. They weren¡¯t simple assassins, but the enemy, one Alaric had faced before, and a dogged one at that. His attention shifted back to Torrin, the knight still on one knee, Eld by his side offering support. Alaric felt a stab of sadness for the man. The wound, though normally merely grave, was likely mortal.

    ¡°Sunara¡¯s assassins,¡± Ezran declared, his eyes meeting Alaric¡¯s with the depth of shared experience. ¡°It seems he¡¯s not done with you yet.¡±

    Alaric gave a weary nod and glanced around. Several of the men-at-arms had begun to loot the enemy dead, searching for coin and whatever treasure they could lay their hands on that would purchase drink. Even a few of Ganister¡¯s cavalry had dismounted to rifle through the recently deceaseds¡¯ clothing. His look shifted to Torrin, and the sadness grew. He raised his voice so all could hear his next words, ¡°Be careful with the enemy weapons, boys. The Black Hand are known for poisoning their blades. One inadvertent nick may be your last.¡±

    Eld looked sharply over at Alaric, understanding dawning in his eyes. Alaric moved toward the two knights. As he reached them, Torrin slumped forward, falling unconscious. Eld caught his fellow knight and carefully laid the other down upon his back. The arrow stuck out at an awkward angle to the side.

    ¡°Poison, you say?¡± Eld asked, looking up at Alaric, his worry and fear plain.

    Alaric gave a nod as Ezran knelt at Torrin¡¯s side. Eld¡¯s face hardened as his gaze shifted to Ezran. The former ash man ignored the knight and leaned forward, checking Torrin, placing a hand by his for several heartbeats before feeling for a pulse.

    ¡°He¡¯s still alive,¡± Ezran said. ¡°The pulse is strong, which I find surprising. The poison may not have taken hold yet or¡­ he¡¯s just strong and stubborn.¡±

    ¡°I would have him live, if possible, my lord,¡± Eld said to Alaric. ¡°Torrin is not only my brother by our order, but also my friend, one of the few I have. If you could see to his care¡­¡±

    Ezran straightened as he looked at Alaric. ¡°You know well enough few survive beyond mere moments when exposed to their poison. He might live if we can get the arrow out and we are careful about it¡­ to avoid spreading the contamination further.¡±

    ¡°Do it,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Do it now.¡±

    ¡°A fire will be needed to cauterize the wound,¡± Ezran said.

    ¡°Ganister,¡± Alaric looked over and called. The man rode back to them, his sword still dripping blood. His horse¡¯s flanks were spattered with blood as well, along with the trooper¡¯s boots and sword arm.

    ¡°My lord? How can I help?¡±

    ¡°Gather wood for a fire,¡± Alaric snapped. ¡°Hurry.¡±

    ¡°You heard the earl,¡± Ganister shouted. ¡°I need a fire and I need it yesterday!¡±

    Half a dozen men immediately stopped what they were doing and moved for the trees. The knights¡¯ men-at-arms had begun to gather around. Alaric could read the plain worry in their gazes. That told him that Torrin was a respected man, a leader these men did not wish to see pass from this world. Several fell to a knee and bowed their heads, praying silently.

    ¡°Hold him still,¡± Ezran said to Eld as he drew his knife. ¡°I need to cut the shaft before I attempt to pull the arrow out.¡±

    Eld reached out and took Ezran¡¯s wrist in a firm grip. He shook his head. ¡°Not you.¡±

    ¡°Unhand me,¡± Ezran said coldly, his gaze locking with Eld¡¯s.

    ¡°No,¡± Eld said. ¡°You will not touch my friend.¡±

    ¡°Ezran is skilled at this sort of thing,¡± Alaric said plainly, drawing Eld¡¯s attention. ¡°He has removed arrows before, including from me. If Torrin is to live, you will let him do what needs to be done. He knows what he is doing.¡±

    Still, Eld did not release the ash man¡¯s wrist.

    ¡°Trust me,¡± Alaric said. ¡°If anyone can increase Torrin¡¯s chance at life, it is Ezran.¡±

    Grudgingly and with heat in his eyes, Eld released Ezran a moment later.

    ¡°If he wakes up while I work,¡± Ezran said, ¡°I might injure him worse. We can¡¯t have that¡ªthe wound is serious enough as it is. No matter what, you need to hold him down, to keep him from moving, understand?¡±

    Eld gave a nod and leaned over Torrin, placing both hands upon the unconscious man¡¯s upper arms. Without another word, Ezran went to work with his dagger.

    ¡°First, as I said, I will cut the shaft down,¡± Ezran said. ¡°Then, when the fire is ready, we will remove the rest and cauterize the wound, with luck burning any lingering poison away.¡±

    Alaric looked to the forest that ran along both sides of the road. He turned toward Thorne, who had approached and was looking down sadly on Torrin. His gaze shifted to the men-at-arms, all of whom had taken a knee and were now praying.

    ¡°Thorne,¡± Alaric said, ¡°take some men and check the woods around us for more of the enemy. Make certain none are lurking just out of sight with a bow, though I doubt they are.¡± He nudged his chin toward the nearest of the men-at-arms. ¡°Give them something to do.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Thorne said and started calling out orders.

    As Thorne set the men to action, Alaric turned back to watch Ezran work with his knife.

 Chapter 6

    The sun hung low on the horizon. It had been up for less than an hour and was starting to drive back the night¡¯s chill. What should have been a rapid and uneventful return home had extended into a prolonged and painful ordeal after the ambush, a grueling trek straight through the night.

    Alaric was exhausted and spent. Each weary step spoke to his fatigue as he closed in on the familiar sight of his home, his castle and keep. Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest was a mere five hundred yards ahead. His heart lightened at the sight of the battlements, the castle towering over the town.

    His cavalry escort had already gone ahead the last few hundred yards, their hoofbeats fading into the distance as they approached the gates of the keep and rode on through. Now, only Alaric and his Shadow Guard lingered behind with Eld and the knights¡¯ weary men-at-arms.

    Behind him, leading their horses, were Ezran and Thorne. Mirroring Alaric¡¯s own fatigue, their faces were etched with the toll of the long march and lack of sleep. Trailing the men-at-arms was a creaking cart, an old and battered wooden thing Alaric had pressed into service after bargaining with a local farmer and paying more than he should have for its purchase. It was a makeshift solution, but a necessary one.

    In the bed lay Torrin, his body still and pale against the rough and coarse wood. He clung to life¡ªjust barely. The last Ezran had checked, the knight¡¯s breathing was shallow and his pulse weak. From lack of grease, the cart¡¯s axle creaked loudly as it trundled forward. With a grave expression, Eld rode his horse beside the cart.

    Torrin was mercifully unconscious. He had not woken since the arrow had been removed and the wound cauterized. Had he been awake, Alaric was certain the journey by cart, with each bump and jostle, would have been a torment. Sweat glistened on his brow and upper lip, speaking to the fever raging through his body.

    As they neared Dark Forge, the traffic along the road in the early morning hours had increased, a lively flow of carts and travelers that was yet another sign of the growing prosperity of Alaric¡¯s rule. Where once the sight of a military column might have sent the civilians scurrying for cover, now it brought friendly waves and hearty greetings.

    Despite his weariness, Alaric, marching at the head of his column, acknowledged these greetings with nods and an occasional raised hand, his heart warmed by the transformation.

    The silence among Alaric¡¯s party was profound, a heavy quiet born from exhaustion and lack of sleep. For the last hour, barely a word had been exchanged, each member conserving what little energy they had left to simply place one foot in front of the other. The rhythmic thud of horse hooves, the sound of boots falling, the occasional squeak of leather, and the creak of the cart were the only sounds punctuating the stillness as they closed the final distance to the castle and marched up to the drawbridge.

    The entire outer wall to either side of the gatehouse was swathed in scaffolding, an intricate web of wood and rope that climbed up the ancient stone walls. Dozens of workers from the kingdom and far beyond dotted this framework. Some were high up on the scaffolding, working at restoring the masonry, while others were on the ground preparing mortar and stones. The wall, witness to centuries of history, showed signs of significant wear and weathering but was now receiving the much-needed attention that had been deferred for a very long time.

    This rehabilitation effort was yet another monumental undertaking for Alaric, both in scope and cost. Recognizing the specialized skills required for such a restoration, he had not hesitated to seek out the best and most skilled craftsmen, importing laborers from across the kingdom and even from foreign shores.

    Over the last eighteen months, significant improvements had been made on the castle. Rotting and in terrible shape, the drawbridge had been completely replaced. The portcullis was also repaired and reinforced. Like much of the rest of the castle, the gatehouse itself had undergone extensive repairs¡ªthe stone facing meticulously restored, the aging mortar checked and replaced where necessary. A fresh layer of protective plaster now shielded the structure from the elements. Reinforced wooden gates had been added as well, replacing the ones that had literally been splintering and falling apart.

    Upon reaching the drawbridge, they were greeted by the sight of guards who stood alert and ready. These sentinels straightened, snapping to attention and saluting as Alaric led his party across, the sound of their boots and the hooves of the horses resonating hollowly against the wooden planks. The reinforced and steel-studded castle gates were opened wide.

    Leading the column, Alaric passed under the gatehouse and into the short tunnel that led to the courtyard. He couldn¡¯t help but glance upward at the dark murder holes lurking above. These grim reminders of the castle¡¯s defenses now looked down on a lord returning from the trials of leadership, rather than an enemy to repel. It was a profound moment, crossing from the vulnerability of the road into the fortified embrace of his ancestral home¡ªto safety.

    Emerging from the shadows of the gatehouse tunnel and back into the sunlight, Alaric was greeted by the sight of Arms Master Hamlin and Captain Jaxen awaiting his arrival in the courtyard. Alaric¡¯s cavalry escort had already dismounted. Horses were picketed by the stables, and hands moved about, assisting as the animals were unsaddled. Other soldiers and workers had stopped to watch and were gathered around the courtyard.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Hamlin called out, stepping forward and offering a respectful bow. Jaxen, too, bowed deeply, his stern and serious features softening a tad.

    ¡°Welcome home,¡± Jaxen added.

    Jaxen, the son of Duncan¡ªone of Alaric¡¯s bannermen¡ªstood with a poise and confidence that spoke of his recent responsibilities and training, along with personal growth. He had also earned Alaric¡¯s trust.

    ¡°Hamlin, Jaxen,¡± Alaric said as he stepped aside, joining both men so the small column of tired and weary soldiers could pass them by. Scaffolding clung to the interior walls, where workers actively hammered and chiseled. ¡°How are things here?¡±

    ¡°Fine, my lord,¡± Hamlin responded promptly. ¡°Your messenger reached us late last night. Based on your description of the tattoos on the assassins¡¯ hands, I¡¯ve written to each town, village mayor, bailiff, and settlement¡¯s headman to be on the lookout for such individuals. I took the liberty of informing them to watch specifically for people wearing gloves.¡±

    ¡°What of the bannermen?¡± Alaric pressed.

    ¡°I¡¯ve informed them as well,¡± Hamlin assured.

    ¡°We¡¯ve also checked the workers here in the castle, each and every one,¡± Jaxen added. ¡°None have the tattoos you wrote of.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Alaric¡¯s gaze followed the cart as the driver halted in the middle of the courtyard and then pulled hard on the break, locking it in place with a heavy clunk. Next to the wagon, Eld dismounted, looped the reins of his horse to a board on the back of the wagon, glanced into the bed at his fellow knight, scowled, and looked up and around. He spotted Alaric and then approached as his and Torrin¡¯s men wearily shrugged out of and dropped their packs upon the ground.

    ¡°Have you summoned the doctor?¡± Alaric asked, his voice carrying a commanding edge as Eld joined them.

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Hamlin confirmed, gesturing off to the left at a building that was attached to the south wall. Next to it was the stables where the cavalry and stable hands, under Lieutenant Ganister¡¯s supervision, were still hard at work. Horses were being led inside to be fed and groomed. ¡°They are waiting in the sick room in the barracks.¡±

    Eld¡¯s expression tightened.

    ¡°No, that won¡¯t do,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Our injured man is a knight in my service and of the nobility. Have him brought to a room in the keep and send the doctors to him. His every need is to be seen to. Is that understood?¡±

    ¡°It is, my lord,¡± Hamlin responded.

    Eld¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly. The knight¡¯s exhausted gaze dropped briefly to the ground before lifting again, resolve hardening his features. ¡°Better send for a priest too.¡±

    ¡°The men we¡¯ve brought back with us need to be quartered here in the castle, preferably in the barracks,¡± Alaric said to his arms master.

    Hamlin turned to Jaxen, the expectation clear in his directive. ¡°Can you handle all that?¡±

    ¡°I can and will,¡± Jaxen responded promptly, his voice steady and confident. He inclined his head to Alaric before moving off toward the cart, calling over some of his men, who¡¯d clearly been drilling in the courtyard before their arrival.

    ¡°Arms Master Hamlin, may I introduce Sir Eld of the Order of Saint Vinthus. He is a knight in my service, as is Sir Torrin in the cart,¡± he announced with a tone of formality.

    ¡°It is an honor to meet you, Sir Eld,¡± Hamlin responded, extending his hand in a gesture of respect. Eld grasped Hamlin¡¯s hand firmly, the handshake sealing the introduction.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    ¡°It is a pleasure to meet you, Arms Master,¡± Eld replied, offering the appropriate respect that Hamlin deserved. He looked around the courtyard at the walls and then the keep. ¡°I am impressed by this castle.¡± Eld looked to Alaric. ¡°It is old, yes, construction dating back to imperial times?¡±

    Just then, a stir at the main entrance to the keep caught Eld¡¯s attention as the door opened. The knight turned toward the movement, his eyes narrowing slightly. Accompanied by Alaric¡¯s mother, Rikka had emerged, her presence drawing the attention of all those nearest. Strikingly beautiful, her black hair tied back into a single tight braid, Rikka wore a deep blue dress. Alaric felt his heart quicken at the mere sight of her. Some of the weariness that clawed at him faded.

    Rikka moved with a grace that seemed almost as if she glided across the ground, the hem of her dress whispering against the stone of the courtyard. Alaric¡¯s mother was at her side, wearing a green dress that was one of her favorites. Elara¡¯s long gray hair had been brushed straight and cascaded down her shoulders. Both women approached with determined strides, their expressions filled with plain concern.

    Eld¡¯s eyes upon Rikka widened as she joined them, as if he somehow recognized her. He stiffened before bowing deeply. ¡°It is an honor to meet another lumina.¡±

    Feeling surprise, not to mention concern at the man¡¯s words, Alaric glanced sharply at Eld. How had this knight recognized Rikka for what she was? More importantly, Alaric had just learned there were more lumina out there. He¡¯d thought Rikka the last of her kind.

    Rikka frowned, her feelings clearly mirroring Alaric¡¯s intrigue and unease, not to mention startlement. Becoming intense, her gaze locked with Eld¡¯s. For a long moment, she studied the knight, scrutinizing him closely.

    ¡°And who are you?¡± Like the crack of a whip, the authoritative voice of Alaric¡¯s mother cut through the tension. She herself had cast a severe look upon the knight. Over the last two years, she and Rikka had grown close. Elara now viewed her as a mother might a daughter and her protective instinct had come out.

    ¡°I am Sir Eld of the Order of Saint Vinthus, recently sworn to Lord Alaric¡¯s service,¡± Eld responded.

    ¡°Saint Vinthus,¡± Rikka echoed, her voice a near whisper. ¡°That is a name I have not heard in a long while, many years, to be certain.¡± She paused as Eld¡¯s gaze shifted back to her. ¡°Interesting. I had not realized there were such knights of that venerable order left on this world.¡±

    ¡°Like yourself, Lady Lumina, there are still a few of us around.¡± The knight¡¯s demeanor was one of pure fascination, mixed perhaps, Alaric decided, with a healthy dose of reverence and awe. It was as if he stood before a figure from the legends of old rather than a flesh-and-blood person. Alaric could well understand that feeling, for sometimes he felt it himself.

    ¡°Saint Vinthus is indeed an old order,¡± Rikka agreed, her voice soft and velvety, ¡°one with a noble, if not tragically dark history.¡±

    Eld inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment. ¡°All that is true. I deny it not. We work to rectify past errors. Such is my mission.¡±

    ¡°I can well imagine.¡± Rikka sucked in a breath and then let it out slowly before her gaze flicked to Alaric¡¯s arms master. Hamlin was watching the exchange between the two curiously. He said nothing.

    ¡°You go to visit a friend and bring back a knight and more soldiers,¡± Elara remarked with a slight tease in her tone as she turned back to Alaric, her words slicing through the underlying tension. ¡°I declare, you are like a child who brings a wild pet home and wants to keep it.¡±

    ¡°Sir Eld, may I introduce my mother, the Lady Elara.¡±

    Eld¡¯s response was a respectful bow. ¡°My lady. It is an honor.¡±

    ¡°Sir Eld,¡± Elara returned the greeting with sudden warmth, ¡°welcome to Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest, our home.¡±

    ¡°I am honored to serve your house, my lady,¡± Eld responded.

    Rikka¡¯s gaze had turned to Alaric. Then it flicked once more to Hamlin before returning to him. Alaric understood the warning in that look, the hidden meaning. Though trusted, the arms master was not privy to all their secrets, most importantly, the ones surrounding Rikka.

    ¡°Hamlin,¡± Alaric directed as he struggled to stifle a yawn, feeling the weariness creep back upon him, ¡°kindly see Sir Eld to Castellan Artras. He will require suitable quarters and, like the rest of us, needs food, a bath, and more importantly, some rest.¡±

    ¡°At once, my lord,¡± Hamlin acknowledged and then held out a hand toward the keep¡¯s entrance. ¡°This way, if you will, sir knight.¡±

    With Hamlin leading, both men departed and disappeared inside, leaving Alaric with his mother and Rikka. Elara watched them go before turning back to Alaric. Her expression was tinged with concern, her gaze piercing and calculating as she looked on her son.

    ¡°The assassination attempt, how sure are you it was Sunara?¡± Elara queried, her voice steady and hard.

    ¡°The Black Hand are his personal assassins,¡± Alaric replied, his tone firm. ¡°I have had encounters with them before. It is hard to imagine them acting without his knowledge or direct orders.¡±

    ¡°They would not make such a move on their own,¡± Ezran said, speaking up after leading his horse over.

    ¡°So, it is not Laval, then?¡± Elara pressed.

    ¡°I seriously doubt his involvement in this,¡± Alaric stated. ¡°He would have to be conspiring with Sunara. Though Laval is a thoroughly despicable and untrustworthy person, I do not see them working together, especially Sunara. That man, though an enemy, still has honor¡ªat least, I believe he does.¡±

    ¡°He did just try to assassinate you,¡± Ezran pointed out. ¡°That is not the most honorable of actions.¡±

    Alaric felt himself frown as he glanced over at the former ash man. ¡°The holy land is a long way off.¡±

    ¡°But apparently not Sunara¡¯s reach,¡± Ezran said, clearly enjoying the moment. Alaric could tell the other was suppressing a grin.

    ¡°Going forward, when you venture forth from the castle, you must take more protection with you,¡± Elara advised.

    ¡°We must all be on guard,¡± Rikka interjected. ¡°There is no reason to think Sunara will not strike at us to get to your son. He will want to hurt Alaric any way he can.¡±

    ¡°She is quite correct,¡± Elara agreed. ¡°We will need to take additional steps to protect ourselves, such as increasing the guard upon us here in the castle.¡± She paused for a heartbeat, glancing at the ground, clearly thinking. After a moment, she looked back up. ¡°We could also return the favor, strike directly back at the man.¡±

    ¡°You mean send paid assassins for Sunara himself?¡± Alaric asked. That certainly was an option, one that would cost a significant sum. Though Sunara had earned it, he wasn¡¯t certain he was ready to cross that line. Perhaps, he considered, there might be another way to deal with this threat. Diplomacy might be in order. It was something to think upon.

    ¡°He is well guarded,¡± Ezran said. ¡°I know that, for I was once counted amongst his most trusted. It will be difficult to get at him. Though I might be willing to take the risk if you wish it, my lord.¡±

    Alaric glanced over at Ezran. The former ash man rarely spoke on those days, let alone his life before entering Alaric¡¯s service as one of his Shadow Guard. That said, Alaric well knew Ezran¡¯s past and how the man had served Sunara himself. Sending Ezran was something Alaric did not wish to do. Though he might be successful in the endeavor, it would likely end in the other man¡¯s death. Alaric owed Ezran too much to send him on a suicide mission.

    ¡°No matter how difficult, it is something we should consider,¡± Elara said.

    He gave a slow nod as he suppressed yet another yawn and failed. He had grown tired of the conversation. ¡°We can talk about it later.¡±

    ¡°There is your child to think of,¡± Elara pressed, looking toward Rikka.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze shifted to Rikka, his heart responding with an unbidden quickening as he considered not just the peril they faced, but the deeply personal stakes now intertwined with her, the fact that she was carrying his child.

    From outward appearances, Rikka looked human, but she was anything but. She also did not appear pregnant. Her race carried children far longer than humans. That she was expecting was a closely held and guarded secret, known only to him and a few others. For all intents and purposes, it was hidden from the wider world.

    ¡°Mother.¡± Alaric turned to face Elara. After the fight, Alaric had found a nearby stream and thoroughly washed the dried blood and gore off not only himself, but his armor. His entire party had done the same and then buried the dead. But he was now dusty and dirty once more, this time from the road. ¡°I am tired. I need a bath, some food, and rest. We can discuss this later when I am up for it and fresh.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± Elara said as she regarded him for a prolonged moment. Her gaze ran from his boots to his head. ¡°You do stink of the road, sweat, and marching,¡± she stated matter-of-factly. ¡°I will have a bath prepared, but you eat first. Though it is early in the morning, Missa will fix you something hearty, along with some of the good wine.¡±

    Her instructions left no room for debate, and before Alaric could offer a reply, Elara had retreated back into the keep, the hem of her dress whispering against the stone as she went. Her swift departure was as much an act of command as it was an assurance¡ªshe would see to the details, just as she saw to much of the running of the keep. When she was set upon something, his mother was akin to a force of nature. There was just no stopping her.

    ¡°Almost alone,¡± Rikka commented, looking meaningfully at Ezran.

    Understanding, Alaric turned. Thorne had just joined them. He, too, was holding the reins of his horse. Both men looked as exhausted as Alaric felt. ¡°Go do what you both need to do. For the next few hours, I will be fine. Clean up, eat, and get some rest. You can resume your duties later.¡±

    Ezran opened his mouth, but Rikka raised a finger, halting any protest before it could begin with a hard look. ¡°He will be safe with me, ash man. You both well know that. No harm will come to him during my watch.¡±

    Ezran hesitated a moment more and then gave a reluctant nod, leading his horse off toward the stables. Thorne followed.

    ¡°Alone,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°How close was it?¡± Rikka asked. ¡°Tell me the truth. How close did the ambush come to succeeding?¡±

    ¡°Closer than I would have preferred,¡± Alaric admitted. He had been dreading this conversation, for it would likely mean Rikka would not leave his side for a moment in the coming days. She viewed herself as much his protector as his Shadow Guard, for she was wholly convinced of the destiny awaiting him.

    She bit her lip, which had trembled slightly at Alaric¡¯s admission, and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Her embrace was a sanctuary, enveloping him in a comfort that was as much emotional as it was physical. The hint of lilacs from her dark hair was a familiar and soothing aroma, one that always seemed to ground him back to simpler, more personal matters.

    She pushed back and away from him, her nose wrinkling. When she turned her eyes up to him, he saw unshed tears. ¡°You do need a bath, and badly.¡± She glanced around them. There was no one in easy earshot. When she looked back upon him, there was something else in her gaze, a desperate desire, a hunger. When she spoke next, her voice was husky. ¡°We can¡­ talk after¡­¡± Her hand moved down to his groin, brushing against his manhood before being withdrawn.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Alaric agreed with a slight smile, his voice softening. ¡°I think I would like that.¡±

    ¡°A date, then,¡± Rikka declared with a gentle firmness, extending her hand toward him again. Alaric took her hand, the near burning warmth of her touch reminding him of her unique nature, her alienness, an aspect of her being that he had come to cherish as a comforting constant.

    ¡°Perhaps you will even help me bathe,¡± Alaric suggested, ¡°maybe even join me.¡±

    ¡°Perhaps,¡± she said coyly, her face downcast as she looked up at him.

    Alaric grinned at her.

    ¡°Come.¡± She drew him toward the keep. The shadows of duty and exhaustion that clung to him began to retreat, chased away by the warmth of her presence, along with the thought of what was to come¡­ after he bathed.

 Chapter 7

    In the great hall, the air hummed with festive energy of Saint Olbern¡¯s Day. The day had begun with the priests, the rituals of supplication, and the thanks to Eldanar for life and prosperity, and it was now concluding with a feast.

    At the head table, Alaric sat elevated above the revelry, his keen gaze sweeping over his guests. The hall itself was a grand spectacle, its massive wooden beams adorned with the vibrant pennants of his bannermen and the king. Heavy with the weight of succulent meats, fresh bread, and abundant harvest produce, not to mention the desserts set out with the main course, long tables filled the space.

    Around these tables, the bannermen and their families, clad in their finest tunics and dresses, animated the scene with laughter and robust conversation. Important dignitaries, traders, civilians, and allies were interspersed among them, all the voices merging into a lively chorus that resonated off the stone walls. Minstrels strummed lutes and pipers played, weaving music, while jesters danced through the aisles, their wild antics coaxing bursts of laughter.

    Bathed in the warm glow of dozens of torches, flickering candles, and lanterns, the great hall brimmed with the energy of his guests. The annual feast was not just a celebration of prosperity, but also a reaffirmation of friendship, alliances, and kinship.

    Alaric occupied the seat of his father, a position he had now held for more than two years as Dekar¡¯s earl, yet the chair felt not just uncomfortable, but also unnatural beneath him, almost as if it contested his claim. Memories of his father, a commanding and dominating presence at such feasts, floated through his mind, sharp and poignant.

    To his left sat Rikka, reserved, incredibly beautiful, exotic, her keen eyes missing nothing, a true ally in his court and beyond. To his right was his mother. Both were comforting anchors in the turbulent waters of leadership. Though he knew he should feel merriment, Alaric felt anything but. He had worries and headaches, things he could not easily fix¡ªTorrin, the coming war with Averndale, the ambush and attempt on his life by Sunara. Such thoughts nagged at him, weighing down his mind.

    Shoving the unhappy thoughts aside, Alaric swept his gaze over the throng of faces once more: lords and ladies, warriors and sages, important civilians from across his earldom, all drawn together at his invitation. A surge of satisfaction warmed him more than the mulled wine he was drinking ever could.

    Here in this ancestral hall lay the fruits of his relentless efforts and energies, a realm pacified and prospering under his rule. Yet, as the shadows danced along the stone walls, they whispered of challenges yet to come. Alaric well knew his path, like the flickering shadows, would be fraught with continual trials. The years taught him such was a fact when it came to leading.

    Alaric recalled his father as a figure carved from stern stuff, a leader whose judgments were as hard and unforgiving as the winter frosts. Whether his father would have approved of his decisions and accomplishments, the direction he was steering the earldom was a question that often lingered in the back of Alaric¡¯s mind, haunting the quieter moments. He supposed, perhaps hoped, that his father would have seen the wisdom in his actions, all that he had done.

    ¡°What is it?¡± Rikka¡¯s voice cut in, her gaze sharp and concerned. ¡°What troubles you?¡±

    Alaric noted the earnestness in her eyes. It had been a week since he returned from the ambush that nearly cost him everything, and since then, Torrin had clung to life, teetering on the brink of death. Despite the care of a skilled doctor and the prayers of two devoted priests, hope for Torrin¡¯s recovery was dimming. The thought of the knight fighting for his life just a floor above dimmed his spirits.

    ¡°Tell me,¡± Rikka insisted, her voice firm, pulling him back to the present.

    Instead of immediately replying, he let his gaze wander the hall once more, observing his mother deep in conversation with Ulden, the son of the Earl of Kanar, Alaric¡¯s neighbor to the north. He was the only other person seated at the head table, a true place of honor.

    Ulden was a striking figure, tall and broad-shouldered with an honest face. He spoke his mind, which Alaric appreciated. His blond hair and handsome features were matched by a prowess in the martial arts on the lists, when jousts were held, a fact that was well-known among the young nobles of the kingdom. He was a fighter and, like Alaric, Ulden had participated in the Crusade, though their paths had never crossed on those distant battlefields.

    Finally, Alaric turned back to Rikka. ¡°It¡¯s Torrin,¡± he admitted quietly. ¡°He had just entered my service¡­ and I do not feel good about what has happened. Before the feast, I visited him. His condition is unchanged.¡±

    ¡°Yes, I know it.¡± Rikka shook her head slightly. ¡°The poison has him on the edge of his life, balancing between this world and the next. Should he manage to recover, he will not be the same man he was before.¡±

    ¡°So the doctors tell me,¡± Alaric said unhappily as his eyes sought out Eld, who was sitting next to Grayson. The two men were talking earnestly amongst themselves. Grayson¡¯s wife, Milda, on the man¡¯s left, was speaking to Duncan¡¯s wife, Sarah.

    ¡°I have prayed for him,¡± Rikka said, drawing his attention once more.

    ¡°I have as well,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°There is not much more to be done, other than simply wait it out and hope our lord and master answers.¡±

    ¡°True,¡± Alaric said with a nod.

    ¡°There is a reason those two knights showed up when they did.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡± Alaric felt himself scowl. She had told him of their order and some of the history. The knights of Saint Vinthus had been the emperor¡¯s personal guard, a shield of steel against threats. In the last days of the Ordinate, they had failed in their duty. Alaric sucked in a breath and let it out. In a way, he supposed they viewed service to him as their redemption.

    ¡°What else troubles you?¡± Rikka asked.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Alaric said, no longer wishing to talk of the Ordinate.

    ¡°Do not attempt to sell me on that. I was not born yesterday.¡±

    Alaric released a heavy sigh, for he knew she would keep at him, badgering until he answered. He leaned closer to Rikka, his voice a soft murmur amongst the cacophony of the merriment, meant only for her ears. ¡°I was enjoying the moment and began thinking on my headaches, and then there was my father¡­¡±

    ¡°What of him?¡± Rikka asked.

    Alaric gestured broadly at the assembly before them. ¡°I was wondering what he would think of all this.¡±

    ¡°I imagine he would be proud of what his son has accomplished and in so short a time too.¡± Her voice was steady and reassuring as she eyed him. ¡°You have transformed Dekar. Your earldom is becoming powerful.¡±

    Alaric gave a slow nod, the corners of his mouth twitching in a semblance of a smile. ¡°I suppose.¡±

    ¡°There is no supposing about it,¡± Rikka asserted. ¡°Given time, you will be the power in Kevahn.¡±

    Alaric reached for his mug of mulled wine, taking a contemplative sip before setting it back down with a gentle clack against the wooden table. He was full, having enjoyed the hearty cuts of meat and the rich array of dishes brought forth by the cooks. Ezran had insisted he eat only what was prepared by trusted hands¡ªa precaution extended to Rikka and his mother as well.

    Directly behind him, Ezran and Thorne stood guard, their presence both protective and imposing. Kiera was there too, keeping watch over Rikka, her eyes scanning the crowd. All three were armed, their postures relaxed, yet unmistakably alert. They were a clear and silent warning to any who might pose a threat to do so at their own risk.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    ¡°Put your troubles aside,¡± Rikka said. ¡°Enjoy the moment, the evening, for all that can be done has been done.¡±

    ¡°That is easier said than done.¡±

    ¡°Then you must put on a show of it,¡± Rikka said firmly, lowering her voice further and leaning close to him, ¡°an act.¡±

    ¡°My lord,¡± a voice called over the gathering, ¡°I would like to propose a toast.¡± The call sliced through the din of conversation, drawing Alaric¡¯s attention to the center of the hall where Grayson, one of his most trusted and seasoned bannermen, now stood. He raised his mug high. Grayson looked around at those gathered and then directly at Alaric. ¡°To our earl!¡±

    ¡°To the earl!¡± the assembly echoed, lifting their mugs in unison and taking a hearty drink. This was followed by a mighty cheer that seemed to rock the walls.

    Just as the cheers began to subside, Duncan rose to his feet, his voice cutting over the noise with equal fervor. ¡°To Dekar!¡±

    ¡°To Dekar!¡± the crowd roared in response, their voices merging into a thunderous chorus, with hands thumping and slapping on tables.

    ¡°I think it is time you said something,¡± Elara said to him.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Ulden agreed.

    Amid the swell of voices, Alaric placed his palms firmly on the table and stood, the heavy chair scraping back. The thumping and cheering reached a fevered pitch, filling the hall with an almost physical energy. Alaric let the noise wash over him, soaking in the adulation and support, before raising both hands, commanding silence.

    When a hush finally fell over the crowd, Alaric picked up his mug, holding it aloft. All eyes in the hall turned toward him, every hand mirrored his, raising mugs high into the air.

    ¡°To Roderick, the king!¡± Alaric¡¯s voice boomed out, clear and commanding. ¡°Long may he reign!¡±

    ¡°To the king!¡± the assembly responded as they stood, their voices mingled with a gravity that underscored the solemnity of their allegiance. Alaric drank. Everyone followed his lead. ¡°To the king, long may he reign!¡±

    ¡°Long may he reign,¡± Alaric called again. With that, the hall erupted once more as everyone took another drink in honor of the king and then cheered.

    As the clamor gradually subsided, Alaric gestured with a gentle sweep of his hand for the gathering to be seated. The room filled with the sound of chairs and stools scraping against the stone floor as the assembly complied. Placing his own mug down, Alaric stood alone in the quiet, the focus of every gaze in the expansive hall.

    He gathered his thoughts. The weight of leadership lay heavy on his shoulders. In this moment of communal reverence and political significance, he understood the power of his words and the impact they could have. He needed to speak carefully, for words mattered.

    ¡°Friends, lords, ladies, and honored guests,¡± he started, his eyes scanning the room, making connections with many who met his gaze. Alaric gestured at the central pennant hanging from the beams in the middle of the hall, a red field over which lay the head of a lion. ¡°Tonight, we stand united under the banner of our king, a symbol of our loyalty and our shared purpose. Yet, as we honor our king, as we honor Kevahn, we also acknowledge the road ahead¡ªthe challenges we must face and the bonds we must strengthen amongst ourselves.¡±

    ¡°Hear, hear,¡± Duncan said and thumped his mug down upon his table.

    ¡°Two years ago, I returned home to a land in crisis, one without law and order. I vowed to make Dekar strong and prosperous¡­ once more respected. I have worked tirelessly toward that goal, but I could not have done it alone. At my side, you were with me every step of the way. Together, in a short time, we have accomplished much and, God willing, will in the months and years do much, much more. Yet, tonight, we relax in the company of friends; we celebrate our faith, our health, and all that we have done this past year. I wish everyone a happy and healthy Saint Olbern¡¯s Day.¡±

    There was pounding on the tables at that. A grumble of approval ran through the hall.

    ¡°We have plenty of drink, so drink up!¡± Alaric added as he picked his own mug back up and took a hearty swig. There was more cheering and thumping of the tables. Glancing over at his mother, Alaric sat down. ¡°How was that?¡±

    ¡°What of war, my lord?¡± came a shout before Elara could reply. Alaric looked over and spotted Keever, who had stood, having posed the question. ¡°Word is war is coming, that Averndale seeks to conquer Kevahn, that the border has been closed.¡±

    In a heartbeat, the atmosphere shifted as the convivial murmurs and sounds of the feast hushed to an attentive silence, once more all eyes turning toward Alaric. The weight of the room¡¯s expectations settled upon his shoulders. Understanding the rumors of war between Averndale and Kevahn would be on everyone¡¯s mind, he now understood he should have addressed this as well. Alaric had wanted to keep things lighthearted, saving weightier matters for the days ahead.

    Alaric came once more to his feet and looked over the assembly, his expression composed, grave. His eyes met Keever¡¯s briefly, acknowledging the gravity of the question before sweeping over the rest of those who gathered with him to celebrate. He was not angry at the man, for it was a valid question and Alaric encouraged his people to speak their minds. Clearly wondering what he would say, Ulden was looking curiously at him as well.

    ¡°I had hoped to keep such matters for another time, another day,¡± Alaric admitted, his tone carrying a trace of regret. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before continuing, ¡°But it appears we must confront our reality sooner rather than later. The rumors are true. Averndale is assembling a powerful army and soon it will march.¡±

    This caused a stir of hisses and murmurs that ran throughout the gathered crowd like lightning.

    ¡°I have recently confirmed this information. I¡¯ve also written the king on what I have learned. As it is too early to receive a reply, we have yet to receive his counsel, but we must move forward in full anticipation of war.¡± He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. ¡°The time for preparation is now, not later. The spring rains are almost done. The ground will soon harden with the approach of summer. When that happens, I expect armies to march.¡±

    If a pin had been dropped at the far end of the room, Alaric was certain he would have heard it.

    He hardened his tone. ¡°I expect my bannermen to start readying their men to march. While we have time, use it wisely, begin gathering supplies¡ªrations, dry goods, tents, wagons, carts, mules, and horses to move our supply train. Ensure each of your men are properly equipped for an extended campaign, one that might possibly last beyond the season and into the next.¡±

    ¡°And what of your standing companies, my lord?¡± Jaxen asked, speaking up. ¡°What are your orders to us?¡±

    ¡°My company commanders will receive specific orders within the next few days as to what I expect of them and what I want them to do.¡± Alaric paused, allowing that to sink in as he met Jaxen¡¯s eyes. He shifted his gaze to the mayors of his towns and headmen who led the villages. They were seated together at the same table off to his left. ¡°Each town and village will contribute food stores and a portion of their militia for the campaign. We must be unified in our effort, strong in our commitment if we are to defend not only our homes, but Kevahn as a whole. When the call comes, we will be ready.¡±

    The hall responded with a mixture of stoic acceptance and resolute nods. There was a sense of gravity, but also an underlying current, a willingness to rise to the challenge. He could sense all that.

    ¡°When the time comes to march,¡± Alaric continued, raising his voice and tapping his chest with a finger, ¡°I will lead our forces to war.¡±

    The hall erupted in cheering again. Alaric raised his hands for silence and, after a few moments, got it.

    ¡°Now,¡± Alaric declared, ¡°I wish to hear no more talk of what is to come. Tonight is a night we give thanks that we have once more been inscribed in the Book of Life, that for the moment, things are good. Tonight, we celebrate, and that is what I expect you to do!¡±

    The response was spirited. A hearty cheer burst from the assembly and echoed off the stone walls, rebounding around the hall. Satisfied with the shift in mood, Alaric settled back into his chair, feeling the weight of his responsibilities momentarily lighten.

    His mother leaned in close. ¡°That was well done, my son, well done.¡±

    Alaric acknowledged her praise with a slow nod, his eyes sweeping across the now lively and reinvigorated crowd. The mirth had returned, mugs clinked, and laughter pealed, yet beneath the jovial surface, he sensed subdued tension. The reality of impending war had already cast a long shadow.

    ¡°My father believes war is coming as well,¡± Ulden said as he sipped wine from his mug. ¡°Since we are closer to where the fighting will likely take place, we have been preparing for weeks now, mustering our men of fighting age and training them up.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Alaric gave a nod. Ulden¡¯s father, the Earl of Kanar, was an experienced leader. Though Kanar was smaller and less prosperous than Dekar, they were known for producing good fighters. ¡°In our last correspondence, your father told me as much.¡±

    ¡°We will not be caught idle,¡± Ulden said as a servant moved by the table. She held a platter of assorted meats. Turning his attention from Alaric, Ulden called her over. He plucked several off the platter and put them on his plate.

    Alaric ran his gaze back over the hall, his guests. He had not been idle either. Since he¡¯d come home and settled the issue with Laval, Alaric had worked hard to grow his own military might.

    Though he longed for the killing to be done, to put aside his sword, it seemed like that would not be an option, not while Averndale desired war. He gave himself a firm nod. ¡°If war comes, it comes. So be it.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Elara asked, leaning close again. ¡°What did you say, my son? I did not hear that.¡±

    ¡°I am a killer, Mother,¡± Alaric confessed, his voice low so only the two of them could hear. ¡°Despite all I have accomplished here, the one thing I am truly gifted at is leading men in battle and killing. So, it is that simple; I am a killer.¡±

    His words hung heavy between them, and Elara¡¯s response was a silence filled with a mother¡¯s concern and the weight of understanding. Her eyes held his, sorrow reflecting back at him.

    ¡°I am a killer, Mother,¡± Alaric said again.

    ¡°Aren¡¯t we all, my son?¡± Elara¡¯s voice was tinged with a profound sadness. ¡°That is the true legacy of our house, killing.¡±

 Chapter 8

    The hour had grown late, and sleep stubbornly eluded Alaric as he lay in his bed amidst the darkness. Rikka was by his side, her breathing steady, clearly asleep. He had been tossing and turning and staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like hours, his headaches and the looming war keeping him from a restful night.

    Letting go a soft breath of resignation, Alaric gave up on sleep. With great care and doing his best not to wake Rikka, he extricated himself from the bed sheets, first sitting up and then swinging his legs over the side. As he moved from the bed, the stone floor cold against his feet, her breathing remained steady, rhythmic. Alaric glanced back at her, wrapped in the sheets, sleeping peacefully on her side, her back to him.

    Their chamber, large and ornately furnished, once belonged to his parents. Upon his assumption of earl, his mother insisted he take these quarters as his own, as was his right, relocating herself to a lesser room within their ancestral home. After many months, it still did not feel like his own.

    Clad only in breeches, his upper body bared, Alaric moved silently across the room, carefully watching where he was walking. By the pale moonlight spilling in from the windows, his feet whispered against the cold stone floor as he navigated toward the back of the suite. Pushing through a barely ajar door, he entered a secluded, windowless chamber, so small, it could barely accommodate more than two souls at any one time.

    Located here, in this intimate alcove, was a small shrine to Eldanar, a sacred space dedicated to the earl¡¯s patron deity. At the room¡¯s heart, upon a modest altar, a single candle flickered¡ªits flame never waning, an eternal light, one fueled by enchantment.

    The sparse light cast by the magical candle faintly lit the contours of the small room, just barely pushing back the shadows. Made of stone, the altar, a modest structure embedded into the back wall, was draped with a pristine white cloth. Resting on the altar were a tarnished bronze compass that once belonged to his grandfather and a holy lantern. The two items were symbols of enduring faith and guidance in the divine.

    Carved into the stone over the altar was an inscription, a sacred invocation that read, ¡°Lord, above and beyond, by your holy light, I am guided.¡± The chamber¡¯s walls were adorned with intricate, geometric patterns, carefully painted to embody the enigmatic and transcendent nature of God. These designs, complex in their symmetry and meaning, seemed to pulse gently under the flickering candlelight, enhancing the room¡¯s sanctity, not to mention the mystery.

    Alaric was moved just being here, for as a child, he had prayed with his father in this very place. At the floor in front of the altar, a round metal kneeling plate was set into the stone¡ªa place for supplication and humility before the divine. Alaric had encountered similar kneelers during his travels in the holy lands, especially in old churches and temples.

    In the north, their rarity added to their sacredness, each one a precious conduit for the penitent seeking communion. The silver kneeling plate, its surface polished to a mirror finish, reflected the faint light of the candle.

    With a deep, steadying breath, Alaric lowered himself onto the plate, bowing his head in reverence as he prepared to surrender his spirit to the guidance of his god. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. The ring on his finger warmed.

    ¡°Lord, above and beyond, by your holy light, I am guided.¡± A familiar tingling sensation spread across his skin, a gentle yet profound touch he learned to recognize and welcome¡ªa sign of his god¡¯s presence¡ªand the magic of the chapel. He lingered in the sensation of his god, allowing it to envelop him fully, to seep into his very being, his marrow. Alaric found it soothing in the extreme. ¡°Lord, above and beyond, by your holy light, I am guided. Show me the wisdom of ages, show me the light.¡±

    The tingling sensation intensified. It was followed by a humming sound, then an audible pop. The tingling fell away, leaving Alaric feeling, for a moment, bereft and alone.

    He opened his eyes and blinked rapidly. The austere confines of the chapel had vanished. He found himself kneeling in the middle of a well-lit library. Alaric glanced around. No one else was present. The air was thick with the scent of aged parchment, ink, and binding glue. Feeling a sense of awe, Alaric grinned slightly. This place had become his personal escape, his sanctuary.

    He stood, gaze sweeping across the small library, his heart quickening with the thrill of ancient secrets and magical whispers. Dragon Bone¡¯s library consisted of five rooms, and this was the largest and central room.

    A fireplace to his left that was set into the wall flared to life with a welcoming burst of light and an accompanying whumph. Almost immediately, the fire drove the chill of the stone walls away, the flames dancing merrily without the need for wood or tinder.

    The logs resting within the fireplace never seemed to need replacing, for the flames, as far as Alaric could tell, did not consume them. The mantel over the hearth was stone and intricately carved, depicting a dragon facing a lone warrior. The dragon¡¯s head was drawn back to strike. The warrior stood bravely with sword and shield in hand. Above that, also carved into the stone, was Alaric¡¯s family sigil.

    Overhead and hanging from the ceiling, magical lanterns glowed softly, casting an amber light over rows of shelves and racks, laden with scrolls and books¡ªsome bound in weathered leather, others in strange materials he could scarcely identify.

    There were no windows to the outside world, yet the air was fresh and clean. There were no doors either, giving the library an air of seclusion that felt both comforting and confining, sometimes eerie.

    Alaric loved it, for by coming here, he could escape from nearly everyone. The only entrance was the magical transport plate upon which he had arrived, a thin disc of metal set into the stone floor. It was a match to the one in the chapel, the kneeler. More importantly, only one other could use it.

    Under the glow of the lantern light across towering bookshelves stood a stately oak desk. This desk, positioned at the very center of the room, commanded the space with its solid, imposing presence. It rested upon an intricately patterned rug, woven with the deep reds and golds that spoke of old wealth and wisdom.

    The surface of the desk bore the marks of countless hours spent in study; its top was a landscape of nicks and scuffs, ink stains, each mark telling a silent story of the past. Upon this venerable platform rested two ancient tomes and an unfurled scroll, the pages a rich yellow hue that only the passage of centuries could bestow. There were also two stacks of parchment, each filled with Alaric¡¯s notes, along with a quill and inkwell.

    Beside the desk, a pair of high-backed chairs stood sentinel. These chairs, crafted from the same dark oak as the desk, featured plush upholstery that contrasted sharply with the rigid wood, offering a haven of comfort in the midst of scholarly austerity. Directly in front of the desk, an upholstered armchair invited restful contemplation, its fabric worn smooth by the passage of many who had sat there before Alaric, poring over the knowledge of the ages.

    Looking around, Alaric felt a profound sense of awe. Not for the first time did he have the feeling it was as though the library had been waiting just for him, ready to unveil its deepest mysteries. The works around him seemed to await their chance to speak once more, to share their secrets with someone worthy of their knowledge. Here, in this sanctum of hidden truths, Alaric had become not merely a visitor, but a pilgrim.

    Guided by Rikka, he recalled his first visit. The discovery of this hidden library was her revelation; neither his mother, his father, nor even his grandfather had been aware of its existence. It was Rikka who recognized the true nature of the silver plate in the chapel¡ªa conduit for magical transportation, a gateway to this secluded and private archive. She had unlocked the secret of its use for him, and for that gift he was profoundly grateful.

    ¡°This place has not been used in centuries,¡± Rikka had remarked during their initial exploration, her voice echoing softly amidst the towering shelves.

    ¡°How can you tell?¡± Alaric had inquired, his curiosity piqued as he gazed at the endless rows of shelves, books, and scrolls.

    Rikka had paused, taking in the volumes that held the forgotten knowledge of ages. The magical light that illuminated the library shimmered in her eyes, lending them an otherworldly glow. ¡°The magic is old. It speaks to me,¡± she had said and then hesitated, glancing around once more. A sorrowful note entered her voice. ¡°The library is lonely.¡±

    Alaric sucked in a breath, shaking off the memories of those early days, and padded over to the chair before the desk. His fingers traced the contours of its sturdy, ancient backrest. With a gentle sigh, he sat and positioned himself before the open scroll, the contents laid bare under the ambient glow of magical light overhead.

    The scroll was titled Urban Sanitation Systems and Health. It was penned in the old tongue¡ªthe tongue of the Ordinate, a language of intricate syntax and dense vocabulary that connected Alaric directly to his ancestral lineage. His grandfather had been adamant he master this archaic form of communication¡ªwriting.

    At the time and as a boy, Alaric had not seen the need to learn a near dead language, one only spoken by the priests on the high holy days. However, his grandfather had other thoughts, foreseeing the utility of such knowledge, perhaps not just in ritual faith or tradition, but in practical governance, knowledge of the past. At the threat of a thrashing, Alaric had learned from an old and doddering priest not only how to speak the old tongue, but to read and write it. Looking back, for that gift, he was now eternally grateful.

    Leaning forward, Alaric admired the craftsmanship of the scroll, the neat and orderly script. The scroll was meticulously constructed, its parchments¡ªsheets made of refined animal hide¡ªstitched together with threads spun from the sinews of beasts long passed from this world.

    Each end of the scroll was secured to elaborately carved wooden rollers, both of which were made in the like of a ram¡¯s head. These rollers facilitated the handling and reading of the document, without needing to touch the parchment itself and risk damaging it, and allowed the reader to seamlessly transition between sections by simply rolling the text back and forth as needed. It wasn¡¯t as practical as a book, but it more than sufficed, at least for Alaric¡¯s needs.

    The scroll was open to where he¡¯d left off the night before. As his eyes moved over the ancient script, Alaric¡¯s mind delved into the complexities of early urban planning and how it applied to public health. This scroll, like the library itself, was a portal to the past, offering solutions that might be applied to the challenges of the present. In his mind, the knowledge contained here was worth more than all the gold in Dekar, maybe even Kevahn. His fingers brushed against the wood of the rollers, feeling the grooves worn by generations of scholars who had sought wisdom in this text.

    Most evenings, for several hours, Alaric came here to read and learn. He was deep into his study of the systems outlined by Thelonicus, a scribe of the middle Ordinate era. The scroll detailed an impressively sophisticated approach to public health, a far cry from the simpler methods employed in Alaric¡¯s current time, or really a lack of any.

    The more time he spent here studying, the more it became clear the Ordinate had been a beacon of enlightenment and advancement, with its citizens enjoying amenities such as expansive public baths, clean water, well-maintained latrines, public toilets, and an elaborate sewer system designed to efficiently manage waste, instead of simply dumping it directly on the street or in the nearest body of water, like what occurred in Dark Forge or Smuggler¡¯s Landing.

    Alaric had a flash of Hawkani¡¯s stinking and murky waters, the putrid bay, as Bramwell¡¯s ship put to sea, taking him home. He sucked in a breath and let it out. As his eyes momentarily wandered across the library, he was once more struck by the realization that he was surrounded by a measure of the cumulative wisdom of the ancients, each book and scroll an irreplaceable repository of ideas that once helped build and shape a mighty civilization, one that had conquered the known world.

    He returned his focus to the scroll, pondering the profound impact of the Ordinate¡¯s fall and how far humanity had slid. With the empire¡¯s decline, much of its knowledge and technological prowess had been lost. Civilization collapsed into disorder, and the sophisticated sanitation practices detailed so meticulously by Thelonicus had been largely abandoned and forgotten as the knowledge needed to maintain them had also been, over time, lost. That alone, Alaric thought, was a tragedy.

    This realization was not just academic; it bore significant implications for his own leadership. The decline in sanitation practices likely contributed to current health issues within his own lands, not to mention others, the contagious diseases and plagues that routinely sprang up and burned through whole populations. At least Thelonicus thought so, and he, though long dead, had convinced Alaric.

    Studying ancient texts like the one before him, Alaric saw an opportunity not only to reclaim lost knowledge, but revive some of these practices within his domain. The more he read on Thelonicus, the more he became convinced he could improve public health and, by extension, grow a more prosperous and stable society.

    Leaning forward, Alaric started reading and soon lost himself in the text. Occasionally, he would pause to dip the quill into the inkwell, and make a note or two on the parchments he had set aside of the scroll. As he worked and the hours passed, he made more notes, sometimes writing furiously until his hand hurt. His study was not merely an exercise in historical curiosity, but a quest to bring ancient wisdom to bear on contemporary challenges, to restore a fragment of the grandeur that an empire was once built upon. He¡¯d already started that process in Smuggler¡¯s Landing and throughout Dekar.

    Though he had not yet communicated it to the mayor, he already had plans to upgrade Dark Forge¡¯s infrastructure, and in a big way too. Among these plans were the construction of proper sewers and the building of an aqueduct¡ªinnovations that had not been seen in his lands, let alone most others, for centuries. Ultimately, his plans required the aqueduct be constructed first, and such an effort alone might take years of construction.

    Thelonicus¡¯s work wasn¡¯t the first Alaric had read on the subject, but it was the most thorough, outlining how such public places functioned in minute detail. This was his third read through. He had become determined to overhaul Dark Forge¡¯s approach to water management by moving beyond the limitations of wells and streams. His vision was to introduce a sustainable system that would bring fresh water into the city, efficiently disposing of waste, and even creating a public bath to improve hygiene, much like the great cities of the empire had once done. Thelonicus¡¯s work highlighted how such advancements in sanitation enabled urban centers of the empire to flourish, supporting larger populations and fostering greater economic activity.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    This hidden trove of knowledge had become more than just a retreat; in Alaric¡¯s eyes, it was a beacon of hope, a source of solutions for the myriad challenges his people faced. From road-building techniques to the rediscovery of the concrete formulas that were being actively employed at Smuggler¡¯s Landing, every discovery brought him closer to a renaissance of the old ways, adapted for the current age.

    The chair creaking in protest, Alaric leaned back and rubbed at his tired eyes. He¡¯d been reading for several hours, and already he had several pages of fresh notes. He glanced around once more, as he had no idea of the time with there being no windows, though he was beginning to get hungry. He supposed, outside, it was nearing dawn.

    As Alaric contemplated the sheer volume of untapped wisdom that surrounded him, he realized he had only just begun to uncover the secrets held within these walls, the true magic here¡ªknowledge.

    A humming behind him caused Alaric to look around. Rikka, wearing a white, almost translucent nightgown, shimmered into existence on the silver plate. The gentle hum of the transport plate faded as she stepped off, her appearance almost ethereal under the magical light of the library. Her black hair, tightly braided, swayed slightly across her back as she moved with graceful steps toward him, the hem of her nightgown whispering against the stone floor.

    Her hand came to rest warmly on his shoulder.

    ¡°You could not sleep,¡± she observed, her voice soft, yet carrying an undercurrent of concern. Alaric¡¯s gaze lingered longingly on the scroll before him, his hand instinctively touching the wooden handle, the head of the ram. He looked back up, meeting her eyes. He had lost himself within those very eyes more than once.

    ¡°Not after the feast,¡± he confessed, the events of the evening still echoing in his mind, laden with both celebration and the looming shadows of duty, of the coming war.

    ¡°How long have you been here?¡±

    ¡°What time is it?¡± Alaric countered.

    ¡°Shortly after daybreak. Missa is setting breakfast down in the hall. It should be ready soon.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod, then looked back at Thelonicus¡¯s work. ¡°There is so much to be done and yet¡±¡ªhe tapped the desk in irritation¡ª¡°I will soon march to war. By god, I wish I didn¡¯t have to go. There is just so much to be done, so much to learn.¡±

    ¡°The empire went to war. It was quite good at it. Some of these scrolls contain tactics, discussions, and treaties on war, how to handle a multitude of situations.¡± Rikka removed her hand and stepped away. The movement of her nightgown across the rug made her look like she glided over the floor. She gently touched a thick scroll hanging on a rack, protected by a leather cover, one of many waiting for attention. ¡°The empire studied war ¡®til they understood it intimately, killing¡ªbetter than anyone else.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Alaric acknowledged, his voice a mixture of fatigue and resolve. ¡°There is an entire room within this library devoted to the art of war, the pure study of it. I have read a few works on the subject, Timmeran, Shoc¡¯aku, Delanis. They were quite enlightening.¡±

    ¡°Timmeran became emperor,¡± Rikka said, her gaze going distant for a moment before focusing back upon Alaric. ¡°I remember him, you know¡ª¡±

    ¡°You knew him?¡± Alaric asked, surprised. He occasionally forgot just how long-lived her species were. There were times like this one where it rocked him.

    ¡°Not personally,¡± Rikka admitted. ¡°I saw him once, during his triumph, as he led his victorious army on parade through the capital. Ultimately, his martial prowess brought him to the very pinnacle of power. Though he was a better general than he was an effective emperor. At least I recall people saying so.¡±

    ¡°I did not know that he became emperor. I thought he was just a general writing about his campaigns, his time in the field.¡±

    Rikka gave a slow nod. ¡°He was assassinated by his own guard.¡±

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°I do not recall,¡± Rikka admitted. ¡°It was a very long time ago and memories tend to fade with the passage of time. I imagine he was unpopular.¡± She looked around again before fixing her gaze back upon him. ¡°Perhaps it is time to focus more of your attention on the military side of things. Become even better at war and leading men into battle.¡±

    ¡°The empire¡¯s armies were organized differently than those today; my companies,¡± he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of lament. Alaric let go a sigh. ¡°They were also far larger than what is generally put into the field these days, a few thousand on both sides, where the empire regularly sent fifty thousand to battle.¡±

    ¡°What you say is true. Humanity has fallen far in just a few short centuries. But¡ªdoes that make my words any less true?¡±

    Alaric considered what she had said. His expression was one of a man caught between the ideals of peace and the necessities of war, a struggle Alaric believed was soon to be upon them. Her counsel wasn¡¯t just about martial prowess; it was about leadership and efficiency, about minimizing loss and maximizing effectiveness when it came to a fight.

    ¡°You are already good at war. Become better at leading men into battle, making your enemy pay for crossing you,¡± Rikka reiterated, her voice steady. ¡°When it comes to a fight, end it quickly and return home to take up your work again, resume what you have begun here in Dekar.¡±

    Thinking about her words, Alaric nodded slowly. ¡°When war comes, I will not be in charge, not this time. I will be but one component of the king¡¯s army. The decision as to what is to be done will be up to others. I will only command my men, and locally at that.¡± His words reflected a sense of limitation, a reminder of his role within a larger hierarchy. ¡°The king will either command himself or choose someone to advise him, and that person will not be me.¡±

    ¡°Then work at becoming the man the king relies upon for strategy,¡± Rikka countered sharply. ¡°Learn all you can so that you are indispensable, someone not easily shoved aside or relegated to the background. Fight and lead your men so well, he has to listen to your counsel.¡±

    Alaric rubbed his jaw and considered what an uphill battle that might be. His experiences at Roderick¡¯s royal court had ingrained a cautious realism in him; he understood the complexities of influence and power. At the royal court, it had become plain he possessed very little, if any. The vivid memory of his last visit to the king, the previous fall, where his time and concerns were barely acknowledged, lingered sharply in his mind. It had pissed him off, for even the Cardinal King had given Alaric more attention.

    The king had had little time for him, a minor noble in a court packed with powerbrokers. The king¡¯s bureaucrats had even less time. Dekar, though burgeoning under his leadership, was still a minor player in the larger scheme of the kingdom¡¯s politics, the games that were played amongst the nobility. In truth, like Kanar, Dekar had always been an out-of-the-way place, remote and far from the capital.

    Rikka, sensing his doubt, crossed the room once more, coming back to him, her presence a silent pillar of support. Her gaze briefly touched upon the ancient scroll of sanitation before returning to Alaric. ¡°With all that you are doing, Dekar will soon become the most powerful and influential earldom within the kingdom, maybe even rivaling the powerbases of the dukes themselves. Already, you are able to muster nearly as many men as Laval can. The day will arrive when the king directly turns to you for advice and your influence, maybe even the loaning of funds to keep his kingdom running. Then, you will become the power behind the throne, someone to be reckoned with.¡±

    Her words were meant to inspire, to paint a vision of what could be if the seeds he¡¯d planted were allowed to flourish. Yet Alaric¡¯s doubts cast a long shadow. Dekar was still a small piece of the king¡¯s puzzle, with others having greater sway, at least for the time being. All the king and his advisors cared about was that Alaric paid his taxes on time. That, and furnished troops in the event of war.

    Yet Rikka¡¯s optimism was not without its own weight. Alaric considered her perspective: If Dekar could rise as a sentinel of innovation and stability, it might force the king¡¯s hand, compelling him to recognize Alaric¡¯s value not just as a vassal, but as a valued counselor. This would not be easy; it would require a delicate balancing act of diplomacy as Dekar grew in strength and power.

    At the same time, he would become a direct threat to the other nobles of the realm, a challenger, an upstart who might need to be put in his place. That alone spoke to the need for a strong military, something Alaric had worked hard at developing.

    ¡°With your ancestry, you should be more than an earl,¡± she asserted, her voice carrying both a declaration and a challenge. ¡°You know that to be true.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s attention snapped back to Rikka, her words slicing through the ambient quiet of the library with a sharpness that belied their profound implication. The ring on his finger pulsed with warmth and heat.

    ¡°You were born to rule, and rule you shall.¡± Her eyes, fairly blazing with intensity, were locked on his. ¡°You have a destiny that is greater than us both, and deep down, you know it.¡±

    ¡°So you keep telling me,¡± Alaric replied.

    ¡°Were you not of the proper bloodline, a Set¡¯Tangenica, I would not now be carrying your child. Such is the way of things.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s family rarely if ever mentioned their line, and only in private, for the last emperor was a Set¡¯Tangenica. It would be incredibly dangerous to do so, to call attention to their lineage. As the warmth of the ring intensified, bordering on discomfort, Alaric felt the ancient magic bound within it reacting to the moment, to the truths being spoken. This artifact, an heirloom, seemed to be affirming Rikka¡¯s assertions, signaling that his destiny was indeed intertwined with the history, with the destiny, and with the future of his bloodline.

    This convergence of duty, destiny, and personal legacy forced Alaric to reconsider his position and the broader implications of his actions¡ªnot only for himself and Rikka, but for their unborn child and the realm that might one day look to him as more than just an earl, and perhaps even those beyond. The weight of leadership and what destiny demanded of him loomed large. Alaric was not prepared for that.

    Then again, who was?

    ¡°Your ancestry is why you are able to sense Eldanar¡¯s magic, to feel your ring, to access this library, as is mine¡­ ours¡­¡± She paused, her voice trailing off as Alaric¡¯s gaze sought hers. The air in the ancient library seemed to grow thicker, charged with a sudden tension that spoke of worlds colliding and secrets unearthed.

    In this moment, Rikka shed her guise¡ªan enchantment that cloaked her true form, the statuesque beauty hidden from all but Alaric. The magical fa?ade dissipated like the morning mist under a newborn sun. She stood before Alaric not just as Rikka, but as a creature from the lore of ages past. Her eyes, now wider and almond-shaped, shimmered with a depth that hinted at ancient experience, a life long-lived, one that eclipsed a human¡¯s.

    Her face, more elongated and refined, was framed by high cheekbones and tapered to a delicate chin and nose. She was a goddess come to life, an absolute stunning beauty that sucked the breath from his lungs and made his heart ache painfully. Her ears, elegantly pointed, confirmed her heritage.

    She was an elf.

    Believed to be nothing more than a figment of bardic imagination or myth, Rikka was a being of legend. Alaric, confronted with her true visage, felt a mixture of awe and a peculiar sense of familiarity. The woman he had come to know, love, and cherish was indeed the same person as the one who stood before him, yet the revelation of her true nature added layers of complexity to his feelings and their relationship. She was a member of one of the elder races, whose histories were intertwined with the very magic and roots of the world, the gods themselves.

    It had taken him time, and not a small measure of soul-searching, to reconcile the image of the woman who had fought and stood by his side with the unearthly figure now standing before him. Yet, as he observed her under the magical light of the library, surrounded by ancient tomes and the scent of timeworn parchment, he realized that her essence¡ªher soul¡ªwas unchanged. She was still Rikka, the woman who had become dear to his heart, not to mention a fixture in his life.

    This newfound understanding of her identity only deepened the mystery and allure of the bond they shared, a connection that seemed predestined by the intertwining fates of their disparate lineages.

    ¡°And what will our child be?¡± Alaric¡¯s question lingered in the air, his eyes tracing the subtle contours of Rikka¡¯s belly, which was just beginning to swell. A mix of wonder and concern shadowed his features as he considered the implications of their child¡¯s mixed heritage and breeding. Rikka¡¯s fingers lightly caressed her swelling belly.

    ¡°She will be a half-cast,¡± Rikka confirmed, her voice imbued with a blend of pride and solemnity, ¡°as once your ancestors were and you nearly are.¡±

    ¡°Half-elven and half-human?¡± Alaric echoed, seeking clarity, perhaps hoping to understand not just the nature of their child, but also the future that awaited them.

    ¡°More or less.¡± The gravity of their shared future was reflected in Rikka¡¯s eyes. ¡°She will bridge our worlds, Alaric, elven and humankind. Like those before her, she will carry both the gift of human resolve, strength of will, and elven magic and lore. She will be a blend of two legacies¡ªmuch as I am.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain the child will be a girl?¡± The question, though previously asked, felt necessary as he sought to anchor himself to a tangible detail amidst the swirling unknown of what was to come.

    ¡°HE has recently shown me it will be a girl,¡± Rikka replied with a confidence that only deepened the mystery. ¡°Like her mother, she will become a lumina, a wielder of holy magic with a destiny all her own. Such is the desire of Eldanar, HIS will.¡±

    ¡°And what about an heir? You have made clear, a lumina is set aside from such things, a servant of all that is holy. Will you give me an heir as well, someone to succeed me?¡±

    Rikka bit her lip and did not immediately reply as she glanced away.

    ¡°Well?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Such is likely not my destiny,¡± she admitted, her voice tinged with a heavy sadness that betrayed the personal cost of their circumstances. ¡°That will be another¡¯s responsibility, another¡¯s duty.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s heart tightened at her words. ¡°And if I do not want another? What if all I desire is you, Rikka?¡±

    ¡°You will have no choice in the matter,¡± Rikka responded, her tone resolute, echoing the decrees of fate and duty over personal desire. ¡°You will marry a human, one who will rule at your side. She shall be the one to produce an heir, not me. It should not be me. That is not the path I walk. So Eldanar has decreed.¡±

    ¡°And what of you?¡± Alaric¡¯s voice carried a weight of concern, unwilling to accept a future where she might be relegated to the shadows of his life or worse. ¡°What will become of you?¡±

    Rikka¡¯s response was a simple shrug, a gesture that belied the depth of emotion it masked. ¡°It does not matter. I, like many others, have a part to play in what is to come. Long ago, I accepted my fate.¡±

    He reached out, taking her hand firmly in his. ¡°It matters to me,¡± he affirmed, his voice low and earnest.

    Her eyes, pools of ancient sorrow, watered as she stared down at him. A single tear broke free and traced a path down her cheek. ¡°I know. But¡ªbut¡ªwhat is more important is the next generation, the next lumina. There are only a handful of us left¡­ fewer than there should be.¡±

    ¡°And what of the other elves?¡±

    ¡°What other elves?¡± Rikka asked.

    ¡°Your people, where are they? The other luminas? What are they doing? Eld seemed pretty sure he¡¯d met others of your kind.¡±

    Rikka hesitated, appearing uncertain. ¡°The other luminas¡­ that¡­ I do not know. Eldanar and another guides their steps, their paths through this life. As for my people as a whole¡ªthey are mostly gone¡­¡±

    ¡°Gone? Where?¡±

    ¡°To other shores. Long ago, they traveled to a distant land, a place where humans cannot go, a place my people can live in peace, prosper, and thrive. Only a few of us remained behind¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait¡­ another?¡± Alaric¡¯s mind was spinning as it caught up to what she¡¯d said a moment before. ¡°Do you mean another god? There are luminas that answer to other gods?¡±

    ¡°Ashanar specifically,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°Ashanar.¡± Alaric sat up straight. ¡°The god of the enemy?¡±

    ¡°The enemy during the Crusade, yes. But that is over now, done with.¡±

    ¡°Sunara sent assassins to kill me the other day. They nearly succeeded. What if your people are helping him with that?¡±

    Rikka looked troubled by the suggestion. ¡°I do not know. My people worship both gods. However, I have dedicated myself to Eldanar, as he spoke to me first. It seemed right, correct.¡± She paused as she sucked in a breath. ¡°Both gods were honored by the Ordinate, the empire. Religious belief was not only tolerated, but accepted.¡±

    While Alaric had known that, his mind still reeled at what she was telling him. He glanced down at the scroll, Thelonicus¡¯s life¡¯s work, then around the library, considering the store of knowledge at his fingertips. Were there other libraries like this one? Eld and Torrin had found the great library, a place hidden for an age when the gods had punished humanity for its temerity and destroyed the empire. He looked up at her as another thought struck him, a troubling one.

    ¡°What if there is another heir?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°Is it possible?¡± Alaric pressed.

    ¡°I suppose it is, as you say, possible.¡±

    ¡°What if there is another lumina, one who follows Ashanar, one who is helping a second heir to the throne?¡±

    ¡°I doubt there is more than one heir, one direct descendant of the last emperor. As far as I know, you are it.¡± She shook her head. ¡°No, there can be no other.¡±

    ¡°You are certain about that? Me being the only heir?¡±

    ¡°Though Eldanar guides my path¡­¡± She paused a moment, glancing at her feet before looking back up at him. ¡°I concede it is possible, for the ways of the gods can be mysterious and I do not know Ashanar. I cannot speak to that god and his plans, nor of any luminas worshiping him.¡±

    Alaric absorbed her words, the silence stretching between them as he contemplated the looming complexities of his future. His thoughts wandered over the imminent conflict between Averndale and Kevahn, a war that threatened to redraw the boundaries of their world and change it in ways that were as yet unclear. He pondered the plans he had made for Dekar, for Rikka, their unborn daughter, and the legacy that awaited them.

    His voice, when he spoke again, carried a heavy note of reluctance. ¡°I did not ask for any of this.¡±

    ¡°That does not matter.¡± Her voice took on a tone of gentle firmness, one filled with surety. ¡°You are destined to claim your heritage. All you need to do is pick up the gauntlet and seize it.¡±

 Chapter 9

    Under the warmth of the midday sun, Alaric stood atop the ancient stone ramparts of his castle. His eyes swept over the training field just beyond the moat, where fifty new recruits were being vigorously trained and drilled under the watchful gazes of a sergeant and two corporals.

    The recruits, a mix of eager youths, most hardened farmhands, formed ragged lines across the field, their movements clumsy and somewhat awkward as they struggled to respond to the crisp commands barked by their instructors. The air was filled with the sounds of clashing wooden practice swords and shields, along with the rhythmic thud of boots stomping in unison. These were the men who would bolster the ranks of his forces, the raw material from which he would mold protectors of his earldom and, by extension, the kingdom.

    Beside him stood Grayson, occasionally pointing out a recruit whose stance was particularly promising or another who needed to tighten his grip on his weapon. Alaric knew Grayson would be speaking with the instructors later, for he was supervising the recruitment and training process for Alaric. It was why they met here, to discuss it.

    From behind, across the bustling castle grounds, the clatter of daily life drifted up to the walls: the blacksmith¡¯s hammer ringing loudly, the stable boys¡¯ laughter, a man shouting to another. The other walls were thick with scaffolding and workers. There was hammering and scraping as the repair work continued as it had for months. There was so much to be done renovating the castle, Alaric wondered if the work would ever be completed.

    ¡°These lads show promise,¡± Grayson remarked. ¡°They are youthful and full of vigor, convinced of their own immortality¡ªjust how we want them. They should make good soldiers.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Alaric responded, his voice carrying a note of approval. Grayson had done a remarkable job growing Alaric¡¯s army. He focused on a pair of recruits sparring, their practice swords clacking loudly against one another as they struggled mightily to best the other.

    ¡°Most are second and third sons of farmers who have recently received land grants. Others walked here, looking to join up, for pay and regular food. There are another seventy-five alone who have arrived within the last week wanting to enlist. We are waiting for them to be examined by Dark Forge¡¯s doctor.¡±

    ¡°That many?¡± Alaric¡¯s eyebrows rose in surprise as he looked over at Grayson. ¡°With rumors of war on the horizon, I¡¯d expect there to be fewer recruits.¡±

    ¡°Word has gotten out,¡± Grayson explained. ¡°There is money to be made in Dekar, land to be had in exchange for service. That is a powerful incentive. In some of the other realms of the kingdom, food and work are scarce. I hear there is even famine abroad. That is driving people too.¡±

    ¡°Famine?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°Where?¡±

    ¡°In Averndale. It seems Thorold is starving his own people to feed the army he has assembled.¡±

    Alaric had not heard that one. If true, it was a very troubling sign. It meant the war would be on them sooner rather than later. Alaric let go an unhappy breath. Not for the first time, he considered that he needed a spymaster, someone with a network of eyes and ears across not only the kingdom, but abroad as well. It would be good to know what was going on beyond the confines of Dekar¡¯s border.

    ¡°Still, those are just rumors,¡± Grayson admitted. ¡°That we feed our soldiers well helps steer prospective recruits our way.¡±

    ¡°I suppose it also helps we pay better than the neighboring lords,¡± Alaric mused.

    ¡°There is that too, my lord, the land and a pension upon retirement,¡± Grayson agreed. He then waved a hand toward the training grounds. ¡°About forty washed out of this group for one reason or another over the last two weeks. Some we sent on to Smuggler¡¯s Landing as laborers. Others¡­ were simply dismissed. Sergeant Miks thinks this bunch will complete their training and make solid additions to our forces.¡±

    ¡°This group will be sent as replacements to our existing companies, correct?¡± Alaric asked, looking for confirmation.

    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right. They will fill out the ranks in preparation of the coming campaign.¡±

    ¡°And when will that be? When will this bunch wrap up their training?¡±

    ¡°Likely within the next two weeks,¡± Grayson said. ¡°Miks can end it early if needed. Their training can be completed hands-on in the companies.¡±

    Pleased, Alaric nodded and then turned to watch intently as Miks¡¯s harsh tones echoed off the stone walls, berating a flustered recruit who had evidently tripped and fallen, dropping his practice shield and sword in the process. The young man scrambled back to his feet and came to attention before the irate sergeant.

    ¡°By the bloody gods,¡± Miks roared. ¡°Darvus, I swear you are a complete idiot, one only a mother could love. Do that in the press of a battle and you are a dead man, good for nothing but worm food. Bloody idiot! Keep your feet planted and that nonsense won¡¯t happen.¡±

    ¡°Seven companies of heavy infantry, and one of bow, two hundred men to a company. I have raised a small army,¡± Alaric remarked as he tapped the stone battlement he had leaned forward upon.

    ¡°Not counting our militia, nearly sixteen hundred men, all regulars,¡± Grayson confirmed. ¡°They are well trained and led by experienced men. Yes, my lord, you have raised a small army, and a good one at that.¡±

    ¡°I have a feeling it is not going to be enough.¡±

    Grayson considered this. ¡°I know war is coming, but our military power is already stronger than the other earldoms. If you take into account the militia, we have another four thousand men under arms¡ªfifty-six hundred men total. Then there are the bannermen, say another five hundred men-at-arms.¡±

    ¡°Sixty-one hundred fighters,¡± Alaric breathed. ¡°We could have used them in the holy land.¡±

    ¡°We could have,¡± Grayson acknowledged. ¡°But we have them now, and only the dukedoms have larger standing armies. If what we have isn¡¯t enough, how many more companies do you want? My lord, how many more can Dekar afford to maintain?¡±

    ¡°With war on the horizon, eight companies of regulars might not be sufficient.¡± Alaric¡¯s gaze roved the training field below. He was thinking on the unknowns of campaigning.

    ¡°Should we have need, we can call upon the town and village militias as a last resort,¡± Grayson offered, hopeful. ¡°That is a significant force. I am sure we could muster more levies if needed.¡±

    ¡°The militias, though effective for their current assignment and strong in size, protecting the peace and patrolling the countryside, are poorly trained and equipped amateurs,¡± Alaric dismissed quickly. ¡°In a stand-up fight against experienced regulars, their quality will be questionable at best.¡± His expression darkened. ¡°I worry the problem we face is that we¡¯re out of time. The heavy spring rains are done, and with every passing day, the ground is hardening. If Averndale is going to march against Kavahn, it will be any time now.¡±

    ¡°Then what are you thinking? It takes time to train new companies, two months at a minimum if you want them to stand firm in a line of battle, more if you expect to push with them, to attempt to break the enemy¡¯s line.¡±

    ¡°Boys, take a break,¡± Miks called out below. ¡°Get some water. The day¡¯s only gonna get hotter, and we have a lot to do before the midday meal. Drink up ¡®til you gotta pee something fierce.¡±

    Grayson scowled as he turned his attention back to the training field below. The recruits broke formation and moved to the water buckets that had been placed at the edge of the field.

    To Alaric, they looked weary and tired, but their spirits were clearly high, which was a good sign. There was talking and laughing amongst themselves as they moved to the buckets and drank from the communal, taking turns with the ladles.

    ¡°Good soldiers are not made overnight, my lord,¡± Grayson added.

    ¡°I know it. I want to raise three more companies at the minimum, five ideally, with one being composed exclusively of bowmen. You will supervise that effort, make it happen for me.¡±

    ¡°Me?¡± Grayson asked, betraying a mix of surprise and a hint of concern. ¡°What you are asking¡ªthat means I will remain behind when you march to war.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°As it always has been, my place is at your side.¡±

    ¡°It was, but not this time.¡± Alaric¡¯s tone was firm, yet not without warmth.

    ¡°Why?¡± Grayson asked, clearly bewildered.

    ¡°While I am gone and taking the bulk of our forces off to war, I need someone with strength to take charge here in Dekar. That someone must not be afraid to make hard decisions, to act on their own initiative. That is you, my old friend.¡±

    Grayson scowled, returning his focus to the recruits below and considering them for several heartbeats.

    ¡°I would not ask this of you if I did not believe you capable and the need great,¡± Alaric continued. ¡°You have the respect of the people of Dekar and the tactical mind I need here. Dekar must remain strong, its people protected, and its garrison ready for whatever is to come. For all I know, while away, Laval may strike or try to drum up trouble at home. I can¡¯t have that. I need peace of mind that our home is looked after while I am away.¡±

    Grayson nodded slowly, the weight of his new responsibility clearly beginning to settle on his shoulders. Though he had not yet accepted the offer, it was obvious he understood the importance of what Alaric was asking. The stability and survival of Dekar could very well depend on his ability to lead in Alaric¡¯s absence.

    ¡°I am not sidelining you. This is important, critical. Will you remain behind and keep an eye on things for me?¡±

    ¡°I should be going to war with you,¡± Grayson countered, displaying firm conviction, mixed with a trace of regret and perhaps even guilt that he would be remaining behind. ¡°You know that.¡±

    ¡°In an ideal world, yes,¡± Alaric responded, his tone understanding, yet resolute. ¡°But you saw what became of Dekar in the absence of strength. You recall those early days¡­¡±

    Grayson nodded but did not speak.

    ¡°I need you here, to watch over things¡ªand my mother. In the event the war goes badly, I also need additional men trained and ready, something to fall back on. I don¡¯t know anyone better I can rely upon to do that, to make it happen for me. I am asking this of you¡ªnot commanding. Can I count on you?¡±

    Grayson hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered the gravity of his new assignment. Finally, he gave a slow, determined nod. ¡°You can, my lord. I will do as you ask.¡±

    Alaric clapped the older man on the arm. Grayson had not only been a mentor, but a pillar in his life, a near father figure when it had been needed most. Alaric well understood the sacrifices Grayson had made on his behalf.

    ¡°I will do all that is asked of me and more,¡± Grayson declared, his voice thick with emotion and an unspoken promise to uphold the safety and honor of Dekar.

    ¡°I know you will, Grayson, and I¡¯ll feel better knowing you have your eye on things here. It will allow me to do what needs to be done.¡± Alaric turned and began walking along the wall as the wind gusted lightly, bringing a brief relief from the sun. The day was growing hotter with every passing moment.

    ¡°When do you expect the king to send his summons?¡± Grayson inquired, falling in beside him.

    ¡°I had already expected it,¡± Alaric admitted, gaze lingering on the distant hills beyond Dark Forge, where roads converged and led off toward the kingdom¡¯s heart. ¡°It has been four weeks since I sent Roderick word of what I¡¯d learned from Bramwell. I¡¯ve heard nothing in reply, not even a peep. Should he have any sense, his army will be in the process of gathering, preparing for what is to come.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    ¡°You have heard nothing back?¡± Grayson¡¯s tone was laced with worry and not a little amount of surprise. ¡°Truly?¡±

    ¡°Not a bloody word.¡±

    ¡°Have you considered sending another messenger?¡± Grayson¡¯s suggestion was cautious.

    ¡°I¡¯ve already taken that step. I dispatched Jasper with a squad of his rangers.¡±

    ¡°An entire squad?¡± Grayson frowned.

    ¡°I want to make sure they get through. I told Jasper to stay off the roads. With luck, they should be back any day now.¡± Alaric turned to look at Grayson. ¡°I have enemies in court, chief amongst them Laval. Arranging for something to happen to the king¡¯s messenger or my men would be an easy way for him to cause trouble and earn me the disfavor of the king. I cannot afford that, not now.¡±

    ¡°You are thinking the king sent you orders¡ªthey just never arrived, his messenger having been intercepted and waylaid?¡±

    ¡°I do. Communications with the king and his administrators have been regular and without issue until now.¡±

    ¡°That would be treason.¡±

    ¡°It is but a possibility,¡± Alaric admitted. ¡°Though he has not troubled us, at least overtly, Laval¡¯s ambition knows no bounds. I would not put it past him to interfere.¡±

    ¡°Then again, the king might just have his head in the sand.¡±

    ¡°He might,¡± Alaric admitted, ¡°but I am thinking not. My gut tells me otherwise.¡±

    ¡°That is why you¡¯ve ordered the marching of six of your companies to the keep. You expect the call to come any day, especially if Jasper confirms it, yes?¡±

    ¡°That is the exact reason.¡± Alaric¡¯s gaze shifted to the horizon, where dark clouds hinted at a brewing storm, perhaps a shower, which would cool things off some. ¡°I have also commanded the supply train be assembled, that goods be moved immediately to Dark Forge for staging. Within a week, all should be ready. My soldiers will be concentrated here with sufficient supplies for an extended campaign. Shortly after, if called, we can begin the long march north, toward Kanar and beyond.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Grayson was quiet for a long moment, the weight of the situation settling in his mind. Finally, he spoke again, ¡°In your absence, do you wish me to move into the keep? To watch things from here? It would be easier to govern, my lord.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric responded. ¡°Feel free to bring your family and anyone else you deem necessary to help you. While I am gone, you will be in charge.¡±

    ¡°And what of your mother?¡± Grayson¡¯s question carried a hint of concern. ¡°She will think she is in charge.¡±

    Alaric gave a shrug. ¡°Be diplomatic if you can. Ultimately, your decision on all matters is final.¡± Alaric stopped walking and faced Grayson. ¡°I expect her to leave you mostly alone when it comes to the day-to-day issues and headaches. I will also speak to her.¡±

    ¡°I understand and I can be diplomatic, my lord. I will keep her informed and solicit advice. Good enough?¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    Alaric began walking again, with Grayson falling in step beside him. They passed a pair of sentries, who snapped to attention and then relaxed after they passed. Alaric noted their focused gazes, alert and watchful, both looking diligently outward.

    ¡°Do you have any questions?¡± Alaric asked, giving Grayson the opportunity to voice his concerns or seek clarification on the plans he¡¯d laid out.

    ¡°I have plenty of questions,¡± Grayson admitted, ¡°but I will not trouble you with my thoughts, not yet at any rate. I will get them together and then sit down with you.¡±

    ¡°That works,¡± Alaric said, pleased. He¡¯d expected this conversation to be harder. It had gone surprisingly easy.

    ¡°You are marching into trouble.¡±

    ¡°I am inclined to agree with you on that point,¡± Alaric said. ¡°The kingdom is filled with nobility that would sell their own mothers to achieve an advantage.¡±

    ¡°And you will find yourself in a camp full of such snakes.¡±

    ¡°It will not be all that different than the Cardinal King¡¯s court, now, will it? Those bastards would sell their own children, given the chance.¡±

    Grayson gave a chuckle at that. He sobered after a moment and came to a stop. ¡°Some did. Still, this may be different.¡±

    ¡°Different, how?¡± Alaric asked, coming to a halt himself. He sensed there was more that the man wanted to say but that he was hesitant to do so, which was very unlike Grayson. ¡°Always speak your mind with me. You have more than earned that right.¡±

    ¡°They will be jealous of all you have accomplished and are doing here in Dekar.¡± Grayson paused a moment as he sucked in a breath and glanced at his feet. When he looked back up, there was a hard look to his gaze. ¡°And there is your heritage to consider.¡±

    Despite the warmth of the day, Alaric found himself going cold. He studied the older man for a long moment. ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Your line is an old one, my lord,¡± Grayson said. ¡°A very old one, dating back to the last days of the Ordinate. Everyone knows that, but I know a little more¡­¡±

    Alaric gave a nod as he studied Grayson carefully, searching for any hint of what might lie behind the bannerman¡¯s straightforward declaration. Grayson met his gaze stoically, his own eyes reflecting a depth of loyalty and hardness that had been forged over many years of service.

    ¡°Your father entrusted me with some knowledge before we left. He believed I should understand the weight of what I was protecting, at least to a degree. I am certain he kept some things from me, the important bits.¡±

    ¡°Go on¡­¡±

    ¡°Some other lords of the land claim to be descended from royalty, but your family has ruled Dekar for time immemorial. And now, a lumina has come to serve you, though we both know it is more involved than that. Don¡¯t we?¡±

    ¡°Yes, indeed, it is more involved,¡± Alaric agreed. ¡°Rikka and I are involved. She has my heart.¡±

    ¡°I know. But it is more than that. Even I can put the pieces together,¡± Grayson said as he moved to the other side of the wall and glanced down into the courtyard. Alaric went with him. Grayson pointed. Alaric followed the gesture and saw Eld with Torrin.

    The latter had regained consciousness the day before last. Though he wasn¡¯t out of the woods, the doctor was cautiously optimistic that he might survive his wound and recover¡ªthough recover was a generous term. He was being helped along by Eld, who had a hand around the other¡¯s waist. Torrin was limping badly and clearly very weak.

    ¡°Two knights of Saint Vinthus have taken service under your banner,¡± Grayson said, his tone carrying a weight of significance. ¡°I had never heard of their order, so I did some digging, and it seems theirs is an old one. They are focused on the restoration. I suspect you know that.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric admitted, unhappy with the turn of the conversation.

    ¡°If I can put the pieces together, so too can others, my lord, for there is no other reason for them to take service with you, to swear themselves to your banner. They have only one loyalty.¡± Grayson paused again and looked over at him. ¡°Then there is your Shadow Guard. We both know why they swore to you.¡±

    ¡°Have you spoken about this to anyone else? Family, your wife?¡± Alaric¡¯s voice was low, almost a whisper, as if afraid of being overheard, even here up on the wall. He glanced around. No one was within easy earshot, not even the sentries who were yards away and focused on looking outward beyond the castle.

    Grayson shook his head, his expression serious. ¡°No, my lord. I understand the delicacy of the situation. This information, if it gets out, could be used to rally support or to stir dissent, depending on who wields it. I was careful with my inquiries.¡±

    ¡°Has anyone spoken about this matter to you?¡± Alaric probed.

    Again, Grayson shook his head. ¡°No, my lord, they have not.¡±

    Alaric let go a long, relieved breath.

    ¡°But word has gotten out about Rikka and Kiera,¡± Grayson added. ¡°I hear there is talk about them. You have a lumina and Luminary under your roof, in your service.¡±

    Alaric felt himself scowl.

    ¡°May I ask a question?¡± Grayson seemed once more hesitant. ¡°If you wish not to answer, I will accept that, as you are my sworn lord. But, with all we have been through, I would not ever betray your confidence. I believe you know and understand that.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric said, suspecting what was coming. ¡°You have earned this question. I will do my best to answer.¡±

    Still, Grayson hesitated. Then, he spoke. ¡°How pure is your line¡ªyour lineage?¡±

    Though he expected it, Alaric did not want to answer. Yet if he was to trust anyone outside of close family, it would be Grayson. Heck, in a way, the man really was family. He had earned that right. At the risk of his own life, he had proven that time and again, even once taking a wound for Alaric.

    ¡°Pure.¡±

    ¡°How pure?¡± Grayson pressed.

    ¡°I can directly trace my line back to Ixarius,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°The last emperor?¡± Grayson breathed.

    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡±

    ¡°The great betrayer? The one who crossed the gods themselves and caused the Great Sundering?¡±

    Alaric gave a slow nod. ¡°Yes, that is him, though I wish he wasn¡¯t my direct ancestor. Grayson, I am the heir to the throne.¡±

    ¡°Dear god above and below,¡± Grayson breathed and stumbled back a step. He placed a hand upon the nearest battlement to steady himself. He¡¯d paled considerably. ¡°Are you certain this is true?¡±

    ¡°I am, and so too is Rikka. It is why she sought me out. God directed her to find me.¡± It was Alaric¡¯s turn to hesitate. ¡°I may be an instrument of destiny.¡±

    ¡°The prophecy¡­¡± Grayson breathed. ¡°I expected you to be minor nobility, but not royalty.¡±

    ¡°Yes.¡±

    ¡°Good god¡­¡±

    ¡°I do not want this,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I do not seek the restoration.¡±

    Grayson sucked in a breath, recovering a measure of himself. He straightened, becoming grave. ¡°You may not have a choice.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡±

    ¡°Word is bound to spread,¡± Grayson remarked gravely. ¡°When it does, you will become a direct threat to the king, to the other nobles, to your enemies.¡±

    Alaric, feeling a surge of terrible frustration, rubbed his jaw. ¡°The king will come after me. Is that what you are saying? If so, I already know that.¡±

    ¡°I think it more likely the dukes and some of the other nobles will take action first. They will move to halt your rise in power, for a new order would threaten their power bases, all they possess.¡± Grayson shifted his stance and glanced around them, clearly searching for anyone who might overhear. When he looked back, his gaze was intense. ¡°Everything I have heard about Roderick suggests he is weak, feckless. No, he will not act first, but last, and when forced to by circumstance.¡±

    At that, Alaric gave a nod, his mind racing as he absorbed the counsel of one of his most trusted advisors. His gaze wandered back out to the training field, where the sounds of rigorous training once more drifted up to them. Indistinct from this distance, Sergeant Miks¡¯s voice echoed across the open space as he directed the recruits.

    ¡°You must begin preparing for that now,¡± Grayson added firmly, drawing Alaric¡¯s attention back. ¡°There is no time to waste. Being heir does not make one an emperor.¡±

    Alaric placed both hands upon the sun-warmed stone of the battlement. He gazed out past the training ground at the expansive fields in the distance, where the gusting wind whispered of a coming storm. ¡°I should raise a true army, hold my banner high? That is what you are counseling, a real army, one that might even contest the king¡¯s?¡±

    ¡°Might, not right, makes a king or even an emperor,¡± Grayson said. ¡°I would be prepared to raise a larger army. Make Dekar a true power, one to be reckoned with, one even the dukes would hesitate to march against, no matter your heritage. That means you will need additional companies of infantry, bowmen, and cavalry. At least double what you have now and are planning. Also, I would expand and step up the training of the militia, give them better arms and equipment. Should word get out¡­ you will be prepared with real strength. Picking up that banner or not will then be your choice.¡±

    ¡°You are talking about putting more than ten thousand men under arms,¡± Alaric said, his voice laced with apprehension as he considered the financial implications. Could he afford to do that? Just arming and feeding such a force would be a colossal undertaking, a monumental effort.

    ¡°At least that much, my lord,¡± Grayson affirmed. ¡°You may, and likely will, need more if it comes to it.¡±

    Though he found the idea distasteful, Alaric recognized the truth in Grayson¡¯s words. The scale of mobilization Alaric¡¯s former captain and bannerman was proposing would be a colossal financial endeavor, one that would threaten to deplete the last of his reserves, what he had accumulated from his campaigns during the Crusade. Yet the underlying reality was clear¡ªhe was not merely making strategic choices for power, but was safeguarding the future of those he held dear: Rikka, his unborn daughter, his family, and the very essence of Dekar itself.

    Alaric felt like he was riding a runaway cart that was racing downhill toward disaster. He rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble on his palm. Though he had shaved the day before, he needed another. He was being forced down a path he did not wish to tread. Still, Alaric had never been one to do things by half measures.

    With each thought and beat of his heart, the weight of responsibility grew heavier, the understanding of what must be done. Alaric drew in a deep breath, bracing himself against the monumental decision he had to make. He stood up straight as he steeled himself, his resolve hardening. He was beginning to see long-term there may be no way out, other than to raise that dreaded banner, one that had flown during the last days of the Ordinate.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Alaric finally said. He could not believe he was uttering these words, ¡°Start the process of expanding the army.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Grayson said without hesitation. ¡°I will begin work toward increasing the number of recruits, aiming to raise at least five to eight more companies in the near term¡ªsay, three infantry units, additionally a bow company, and one of horse to start. Our cavalry arm is rather weak. We will need to rectify that, and soon, for as you know, cavalry can make a real difference on the battlefield. After those formations have been raised and trained, there should be three new infantry companies of lesser quality. That will give us a base from which to work, to grow our military power further and contest any move against you and Dekar.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod. Then a thought occurred to him. The last few nights, he¡¯d taken Rikka¡¯s advice and been reading in the library on how the Ordinate went to war, the tools and strategies they¡¯d used. ¡°I have some old tomes that I¡¯ve been reading. They date back to the days of the empire. In them, they detail mobile artillery.¡±

    ¡°Artillery?¡± Grayson frowned. ¡°Like catapults?¡±

    ¡°Some, yes,¡± Alaric said, ¡°but these were lighter machines, easily moved and transported, that could throw bolts a long distance.¡±

    ¡°What of them?¡±

    ¡°There are descriptions of how to construct them. If possible, I would like a few of the machines built before I march. I would like to try them out in the field and see if they give us an advantage.¡±

    ¡°Send me the plans,¡± Grayson said. ¡°I will do what I can.¡±

    Alaric fell silent, gazing out at the horizon for a long moment, considering everything he¡¯d just ordered. He turned back. ¡°You can build me a true army?¡±

    ¡°I can.¡±

    ¡°Can you do it quietly?¡± Alaric asked. He did not wish to alarm the king, let alone his neighbors and fellow lords. There might still be a way to keep from having to raise that dreaded banner, to put things off. Only time would tell if that was possible. If he was strong and his army powerful enough, he might not have to. Still, he would need to prove his loyalty to the king first, to demonstrate it beyond doubt, and Alaric hoped to do that in battle.

    ¡°I can,¡± Grayson confirmed, his voice low and steady. ¡°The word I will spread is that we are preparing to do our part for the war effort. Everyone knows Dekar is now rich and growing wealthier by the day. It will not be much of a stretch to sell that.¡±

    Pleased, Alaric gave a firm nod. Such an explanation would provide some cover, offering a veneer of normalcy, while simultaneously preparing for the worst. It also positioned him to have a reserve force should things go badly with the war against Averndale. Alaric conceded that such a force might very well be needed. King Thorold was reputed to be a fighter and master strategist. Roderick was not any of those things.

    ¡°Raising this army will take time,¡± Grayson cautioned, his gaze meeting Alaric¡¯s with a somber intensity. ¡°The entire summer at the very least and likely deep into the fall.¡±

    Feeling a surge of helplessness mingling with a growing determination, Alaric pounded his fist lightly upon the stone of the wall. He did not wish to go down this road, but it seemed there was no other option, that ultimately, his hand would be forced.

    Rikka, Eld, Torrin, and now Grayson believed him to be the man destined to reforge the Ordinate. Alaric did not wish to be the one who ignited a holy war, but it seemed like that was coming whether he desired it or not. He turned to Grayson, his expression hard, his mind made up.

    ¡°Do it. Raise me an army.¡±

 Chapter 10

    ¡°You have been keeping me quite busy, my lord,¡± Lentarus remarked with a wry smile as Alaric dismounted from his horse, the animal¡¯s flanks slick with sweat from the long ride and the heat of the day. ¡°Just how I like it.¡±

    Grinning, Alaric dropped down into the knee-high grass of the meadow, sending a few startled grasshoppers into the air, jumping hastily away. Behind him, his escort was also dismounting, their armor clinking and chinking.

    Lentarus¡¯s camp was next to a good-sized river, its surface shimmering under the sun. A welcome breeze blew across the water, and the light danced on the gentle ripples. The day was bordering upon being very hot, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming wildflowers and fresh grass. Overhead, a few clouds lazily drifted by in the otherwise clear blue sky.

    Overly warm in his armor, stiff and weary from the long ride, Alaric took a moment to note how the meadow was scattered over with a handful of sheep, their bleating a soft background chorus to the tranquil and peaceful scene.

    Four communal tents had been pitched off to his right, along with a small guard for the engineering contingent. One tent was larger than the rest, its sides rolled up to allow in the fresh and cooling air. There were two long wooden camp tables, with several stools in view, along with a large trunk. Just outside this tent, a campfire had been set. An iron pot hung over it. An unhitched wagon a few dozen yards off was loaded with supplies, and the tarp covering the bed had been pulled back. A team of horses was picketed just behind the wagon, as were several mules.

    Alaric made his way over to join Lentarus, his chief engineer, who stood waiting just outside the main tent where he had been working moments before with three assistants. The tent was clearly his headquarters. He held a leather-bound notebook. Without needing to be told, the assistants nearby stepped aside to give the two men space and made themselves busy.

    Lentarus, despite his shorter stature, just a smidge over five feet, commanded attention with a robust frame, powerful arms, and a large, brown beard that was so wild and unkempt it seemed almost a living being. His brown eyes were hard and piercing. As if he were trying to see through something, he had a perpetual squinting look.

    Upon meeting Lentarus in the capital, and recognizing the engineer¡¯s keen mind and indefatigable spirit, Alaric had brought him into his service the previous year, making the man an offer he could not refuse, the ability to work on projects no one else was. Lentarus had jumped at the chance. It also helped that the monetary offer was substantial. Alaric had not regretted his decision and since then made the man his chief of engineers.

    Just beyond the tent, for several hundred yards, the grass was speckled with white flags fluttering from wooden stakes planted in the ground. Alaric figured these were some type of measurement system.

    Two more of Lentarus¡¯s assistants were engaged several yards away; one held a large piece of parchment, while the other methodically planted additional stakes.

    ¡°You mean you are not out here for a picnic? Am I keeping you busy, really?¡± Alaric was amused, his tone light, barely suppressing a smirk. ¡°I had not noticed.¡±

    ¡°Just a tad, my lord,¡± Lentarus responded with a chuckle. ¡°Between all the road building, supporting the efforts at the port, and now¡­¡± His hand waved toward the river, gleaming under the sun like a vast pool of liquid fire. ¡°¡­this project. If I was a pig in a pen with plenty of shit to wallow in, I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be happier.¡±

    That caused Alaric to bark out a laugh. He genuinely enjoyed Lentarus¡¯s company. Though he was here for work, to learn and inspect what was planned, the escape from his keep in a way was a break from his headaches, his worries about the coming war. It still worried Alaric that he¡¯d heard nothing from the king.

    Alaric intended to spend the night here, camping. Come morning, he would start back for the keep. If he knew Lentarus, the man had a supply of fine wine on hand. After a day-and-a-half ride just to get here, the thought of wine was more than welcome. The river also looked inviting. A swim was not out of order.

    ¡°That is good to hear.¡± Alaric turned his attention back to business, his gaze sweeping across the meadow and then beyond at the rugged terrain in marking the border of the earldom of Sekal, one of Alaric¡¯s direct neighbors. He¡¯d met Earl Kinton on two occasions. The man had been cold and unfriendly. He had not left a good impression on Alaric.

    Alaric was in the southwestern part of Dekar. The boundary of his lands was perhaps no more than five miles distant. The region was wild and largely undeveloped, a canvas of natural beauty mostly untouched by the hands of builders or the plow. Alaric knew that the tranquility of these rolling meadows and hills would not remain unchanged for long, especially with what he had planned.

    He turned his attention back to the engineer. ¡°Now that you have had a chance to look things over, what do you think of the feasibility of the project? I want it straight. What do you really think?¡±

    ¡°What do I think?¡± Lentarus repeated thoughtfully, turning to fully face the river. He ran his fingers through his beard as his eyes roved over the expansive flow. He started walking up to the bank, just feet away. Alaric followed the man. For several moments, they both stood looking out over the tranquil surface of the river. ¡°What do I think?¡±

    The last was more to himself than anything else. Alaric was accustomed to this behavior. He glanced at Lentarus. The engineer was clearly gathering his thoughts. From one side to the other, the river was one hundred yards across. Less than a quarter mile past the far bank, steep green hills rose up, and beyond them were the distant peaks that marked the extent of his earldom.

    Lentarus squinted hard against the sunlight reflecting off the water. Finally, he let go a breath. ¡°I¡¯ve never done something like what you are proposing.¡±

    ¡°I know that,¡± Alaric said, ¡°and I appreciate what I am asking you to do.¡±

    ¡°Good, because it is going to be challenging in the extreme, a real bitch of a job.¡±

    ¡°I figured it would be. Can you do it? Can you pull it off for me?¡±

    ¡°Coming out of those mountains, the water seems fresh enough and the flow is good. The elevation here is sufficient to do what you want, but the process of building this aqueduct, the size of what you are asking¡ªwell, it will take considerable time. That is, if sufficient labor is available, and even then, it will likely be a year or more of hard work for us to realize the fruits of your vision. Dark Forge is forty miles distant. No one has done this sort of thing before.¡± Lentarus paused and shook a finger, wagging it at the river. ¡°Well, no one in the last few hundred years.¡±

    The project was indeed daunting, Alaric understood that. It was a monumental engineering challenge, particularly given the remote location and the lack of nearby resources.

    ¡°Forty miles of rugged terrain,¡± Lentarus continued, ¡°no established roads along most of our path, which means we have to build them, not to mention establish a supply chain. We¡¯re going to have to get surveyors and prospectors to find locations to quarry the rock needed. It is either that or haul it from the coast. If we¡¯re forced to do so, it will add significant time and expense to this venture, not to mention the cost of the stonemasons.¡±

    Ezran came up, assuming a position to Alaric¡¯s right. Lentarus glanced over at the former ash man as Thorne took a spot a few paces to the left. Their gazes moved outward as they scanned the grassy fields around them, searching for potential threats.

    Lentarus turned to face westward, where the late afternoon sun was beginning to sink in the sky. ¡°Over in Geras, I¡¯ve seen the ruins¡­ from the empire, that is. I¡¯ve studied them¡ªnot ever did I imagine I might be in charge of such an effort.¡±

    ¡°Can you do it?¡± Alaric pressed.

    Lentarus¡¯s brow furrowed as he contemplated the task ahead. ¡°I will have to map out and mark the route straight from this point here to Dark Forge, but I should be able to pull it off.¡±Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

    ¡°Should? I don¡¯t like the sound of ¡®should.¡¯ I prefer certainty.¡±

    ¡°There are a lot of unknowns. The plans you provided, though detailed, did not include all the information I require for a project of this magnitude. A scale model of what you want done must be constructed first, my lord, to test things out, to confirm assumptions, prove the theory.¡±

    ¡°And how long will that take?¡±

    ¡°A few days, maybe a week, no more than two,¡± Lentarus replied confidently, tapping his notebook with an idle finger. ¡°As I see it, the challenge will be getting the grade correct. What I really mean is exact. Having the aqueduct drop a foot every forty-eight hundred feet will be the true challenge of this project. Too steep, say we make a miscalculation, and the water will run too fast, possibly overflowing the end basins at the town and the freshwater fountains you wish built for the populace in Dark Forge. Too slow with the flow and we risk pressure issues when it comes to those same fountains.¡± Lentarus¡¯ expression turned serious. ¡°At least, I believe that is what will occur, but I am unsure. That¡¯s why I need to test everything out before we break ground, create some truths, some things we can rely upon for the finished version. Once complete¡ªthe testing phase, that is¡ªand I have figures I can rely on, we can get to work.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Alaric declared, clapping his hands together, a note of satisfaction in his voice as he contemplated the possibilities before him. The echoes of ancient grandeur he witnessed in Divinara¡ªthe remnants of sprawling aqueducts, each running for dozens of miles, and the ruins of the vast cities they had sustained¡ªserved as both an inspiration and a cautionary tale. These ruins stood as a silent reminder to both the ambition of their creators and the ravages of time and neglect. Despite the potential hurdles, Alaric¡¯s faith in Lentarus was strong, unwavering. If anyone could do what he desired, it would be him.

    ¡°Are you certain this river is sufficient for our needs?¡± Alaric inquired, his eyes tracing the tranquil expanse of water as it flowed lazily by them. The river didn¡¯t seem very deep, but Alaric knew looks could be deceiving when it came to water. With the wind having died down, the surface was almost smooth, mirroring the afternoon sky.

    ¡°It should be for what you want done, my lord,¡± Lentarus responded, following Alaric¡¯s gaze across the river¡¯s surface. ¡°The elevation is correct. Now, if you desire more water, to expand the number of public fountains, well then¡ªwe will likely need to find a new water source, another river or something like that, where we can divert water into additional storage reservoirs. Then again, we might be able to build a second aqueduct downstream, as the river may be large enough. I am not certain how that will work, as we will need to construct a dam here first¡ªhow it will impact things downriver with a reversed flow. Either way, on the delivery end, Dark Forge will require several storage reservoirs. As you know, those will create the pressure needed to send the water into the town through lead pipes and power your fountains.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s focus on ensuring the success of this first aqueduct,¡± Alaric decided. ¡°Begin here. Conduct your testing with the scale model. Take as much time as you need before building. I want to limit any costly mistakes and errors when actual construction begins, understand me?¡±

    ¡°Of course, my lord, and I do. I already have my assistants working on the model back in Dark Forge. I will try to hammer out as much as I can to limit future complications.¡±

    Alaric nodded, a sense of satisfaction swelling within. Lentarus was not merely an engineer; he was a whirlwind of proactive energy and resourcefulness. More importantly, he was self-motivated. This dynamism was precisely why Alaric entrusted him with such a critical project. He respected Lentarus not only for his expertise and accomplishments, but also for his ability to transform vision into reality, a rare trait that made the man an incredibly valuable treasure.

    ¡°My lord,¡± called a voice, snapping Alaric from his thoughts. He turned to see Thorne gesturing urgently in the direction they had traveled in crossing the meadow. Alaric¡¯s heart sank¡ªa foreboding chill sweeping through him, the kind that only comes when trouble rides fast on the wind.

    A rider was galloping across the field at breakneck speed toward them, kicking up clods of grass and dirt in his wake. Instantly, Alaric regretted his choice to travel so far from the keep for this meeting. As the figure drew closer, he recognized Jasper. Alaric braced himself for bad news, the sort that could derail even the best-laid plans.

    Jasper slid from his horse before it had fully stopped. The horse, sides heaving and lathered in sweat, panted heavily, almost gasping for air as Jasper straightened, his face etched with the intensity of his ride and the importance of his message. Alaric stepped forward, his expression hardening, ready to receive whatever tidings Jasper brought, his mind racing through the possibilities and their implications.

    ¡°Report,¡± Alaric ordered.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Jasper panted, like his horse, out of breath, his voice strained with urgency. His clothes were caked with dust from the road, and his features bore the lines of exhaustion from relentless and hard travel. ¡°It is war. Averndale has crossed the border.¡±

    ¡°When?¡± Alaric¡¯s voice was sharp. ¡°And where?¡±

    ¡°Three weeks ago,¡± Jasper reported, his brow furrowed with the gravity of the news. ¡°They¡¯ve sacked Haren¡¯s Gap, a large border town, my lord, and put the people there to the sword. They¡¯ve also taken the bridge at Stanis and are pushing farther inland into the heart of the kingdom.¡±

    ¡°And what of our king?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°The king has called his army to form and concentrate at Meers Point. My understanding is much of it has already arrived and is preparing to contest Averndale¡¯s advance.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s brow knitted in frustration as he thought, picturing how far away Meers Point was, a small city to the north. It would be a hard march to get there.

    ¡°Why did we not receive word sooner?¡±

    ¡°A messenger was sent as soon as Averndale¡¯s army marched and crossed the border, more than three weeks ago,¡± Jasper explained, meeting Alaric¡¯s intense gaze. ¡°I spoke with the king¡¯s administrators myself. They confirmed a messenger was dispatched, detailing the king¡¯s commands. Word around court is you received the missive but ignored it. My lord, you are ordered to march as soon as practical with all the force you can muster and join the king¡¯s army. I was told that any further delay would be viewed as potentially treasonous.¡±

    The news hit Alaric like a physical blow. It confirmed his worst fears, and now, critically, through no fault of his own, he was late in responding to the king¡¯s summons. His forces, nearly ready to march, faced a daunting trek to Meers Point¡ªa journey of over a hundred fifty miles. It would take them at least five to six days if he pushed it, maybe more, to cover that distance, for the roads north of Dekar were not the best. In fact, they were poor to deficient. Alaric would also be hindered by his supply train, wagons filled with the means to sustain his men for an extended period.

    What had happened to the messenger? Had he been intercepted? He had a feeling it had been Laval, but there was no proof. At least, not yet.

    With a heavy heart, he understood he would need to compose a message to the king explaining the situation and offering his apologies, along with excuses for the delay in marching. Alaric hated making excuses. Whether or not he was believed was a wholly different matter. The responsibility weighed heavily on him, knowing the strategic setbacks this could mean for the overall war effort. Worse, he did not have a change in mounts between here and the keep, a journey of forty miles. It would take time to return.

    ¡°Thorne, ride to the castle, through the night and the next day if need be,¡± Alaric ordered. ¡°Inform Grayson that we march come the morning after tomorrow. Everything is to be readied for departure. Understand?¡±

    Before Thorne could move, Jasper interjected, holding up a forestalling hand. ¡°My lord, I saw Grayson before I came here and passed on the news. He directed me to tell you he would have the men begin readying themselves. He also said he¡¯d start organizing and loading the supply train. That alone will take at least two days¡¯ work. It took me a full day of hard riding just to make it here.¡±

    A wave of relief washed over Alaric upon hearing Jasper¡¯s words. Grayson had already set the wheels in motion. This news slightly eased the weight of command and urgency that had come to rest on Alaric¡¯s shoulders. He could ride back home at a more measured, but hastened, pace and be there in time to march with his men.

    He turned to Lentarus, who had been silently following the exchange, his face marked with concern. Alaric had planned on spending the day with the man, being walked through what would be done here at the river, detailing how the water would be diverted and used.

    ¡°I need to go,¡± Alaric stated and started for his horse.

    ¡°I understand, my lord,¡± Lentarus responded, comprehending the gravity of the situation. His expression was serious. ¡°Would you like this project halted, delayed until you return from the war?¡±

    Alaric paused in his stride to his horse, a thoughtful frown crossing his features as he contemplated the engineer¡¯s question. One of his escort, a cavalry trooper, was holding the reins patiently a few feet away. Alaric took a moment more to consider the implications of halting the project and the delay it would cause in his plans for Dark Forge. He shook his head decisively. ¡°No. Continue with your planning, testing, and the project as a whole. I very much want it to move forward. Report your findings to Grayson. He will keep me abreast of developments while I am off campaigning. Labor may become an issue, but do what you can to advance things.¡±

    ¡°As you command, so shall it be done, my lord,¡± Lentarus replied, his voice carrying a note of relief.

    ¡°Now, I must be going,¡± Alaric declared, continuing onto his horse and taking up the reins. He pulled himself up into the saddle with the ease of a seasoned rider. His escort followed suit, each man mounting and readying himself.

    ¡°Jasper,¡± Alaric said, looking over. ¡°Take a break here, bathe, and eat. Follow when your horse is rested.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jasper replied and bowed his head.

    Alaric wheeled his horse around and nudged her into a trot, heading back the way they had come. As he rode away, his thoughts shifted from the aqueduct project to the strategies and tactics of war that now demanded his full attention. He slapped his thigh in a moment of intense frustration. His arrival at the rallying point for the king¡¯s army would be later than he hoped, far later, and the king would not be pleased with the delay. Worse, there was a good chance he¡¯d arrive after Roderick¡¯s army met Thorold¡¯s in battle.

    ¡°Damnation,¡± Alaric breathed to himself. ¡°Damnation.¡±

    War waited for no man.

 Chapter 11

    At the end of the drawbridge, Alaric came to a halt. Dawn was fast approaching, lighting the sky in vibrant hues, but the sun had yet to crest the horizon. A clinging morning mist blanketed the ground and curled over the moat¡¯s stagnant and still waters. Dozens of hissing and sputtering torches provided additional light. The air was cool, bordering on crisp, and carried the fresh, damp scent of the early morning.

    Beside him stood Grayson, as well as Torrin, who had hobbled out of the keep with a staff despite his lingering weakness. The knight¡¯s steps were uncertain, shaky. The shadow of frailty was evident in his slow movements, the strained tension, and sheen of sweat on his face. In Alaric¡¯s eyes, his full recovery was doubtful. Yet Torrin¡¯s resilience and spirit was admirable.

    Before them, the road that led to Dark Forge and beyond stretched out, flanked by dew-laden grass and the waking calls of birds. Here, having already broken camp, Alaric¡¯s rapidly assembling army prepared themselves to march. Six companies, his best, totaling nearly twelve hundred regulars and an additional four hundred militia, were forming into a column of march, the clatter and murmur of their preparations breaking the morning¡¯s quiet. Another five hundred men-at-arms from his bannermen were also present.

    Including the cavalry contingent under the command of Lieutenant Ganister, he was marching with nearly twenty-one hundred fifty men. It was a sizable force, a small army, especially considering that most of the rest of the earldoms of Kevahn would barely be able to muster a single company each, if that.

    Out of view, just past the town and down the road, was a vehicle park with the supply train, more than a hundred wagons and carts laden with vital supplies: tents, spare equipment, weapons and food stores, animal feed. Added to the train were over two hundred mules, which would bear even more provisions for his small army.

    Included were two of the new artillery pieces he¡¯d ordered constructed, bolt throwers that Grayson managed to have built. Though he¡¯d not seen them operate, Grayson had told him each was quite promising with a range of over four hundred yards, being pinpoint-accurate at near two hundred yards. The crews who had been assigned were still learning how to effectively operate both machines, but Grayson had high hopes for them and intended on making more, along with some experimentation.

    Alaric surveyed the scene, gaze sweeping over the nearest men. He estimated the length of the column that would soon begin grinding forward, from beginning to end, would likely stretch for over ten miles¡ªa formidable serpent of flesh and steel representing his resolve, his power.

    Off to the left of the drawbridge, separated from the foot soldiers, was his cavalry escort. This group was made up of twenty guards, all seasoned riders. Among them stood Ezran and Thorne, both dismounted and poised with the quiet and patient tension of experienced warriors. Nearby, Rikka and Kiera were also present. Kiera was busy securing a travel bag to her horse. Alaric¡¯s eyes briefly met Rikka¡¯s, and he fought the urge to scowl.

    Despite attempts to dissuade her, due to her condition, she had been adamant about joining the march, going to war with him. Her determination was as unwavering as it was frustrating. No argument or plea made an impact, and now here she stood, hair in a single braid and clad in her riding leathers, her presence speaking to her stubborn and unbending nature. Alaric respected her courage, yet the protective stir of worry within him was difficult to suppress.

    He drew a deep breath of the brisk morning air, feeling it invigorate his senses as he exhaled slowly through his nose. His hands moved with practiced ease to retrieve his riding gloves from where they had been securely tucked into his armor harness. He began to pull them on, one after the other, the leather conforming snugly to his hands.

    Around him, the air was punctuated with the commands of officers and sergeants orchestrating the troops into a disciplined marching column. The cacophony of shouts, the clinking and chinking of armor, and the shuffling of boots stirred memories within him. For a fleeting moment, Alaric¡¯s thoughts drifted back to his early days during the Crusade under the banner of the Cardinal King. Those were ones of fervor and chaos, of a youthful spirit embroiled in the raw clamor and chaos of war, where everyday rules fell by the wayside, as did common decency and honor.

    But that was firmly behind him.

    Now, as he faced the march to war once more, a different kind of resolve filled him. The road ahead was shrouded in uncertainty. He knew little of what waited beyond the horizon, but of one thing he was certain: Danger was an inevitable companion. Whether that came from the enemy or his own king and fellow nobles, Alaric did not know. But he¡¯d face it, no matter what quarter it came from.

    ¡°I wish I was coming with you,¡± Grayson said, his voice tinged with a trace of melancholy, the sentiment almost spilling forth from his sturdy frame.

    ¡°Aye,¡± Alaric said, a moment of silent understanding passing between them. ¡°I wish you were as well, but I need you here more.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lord,¡± Grayson replied, his nod resolute as he clasped his hands behind his back, embodying the loyalty and duty that had always marked his service. ¡°I will look after your house, people, and lands, especially your mother.¡±

    ¡°I will help as well, my lord,¡± chimed in Torrin, his voice weaker but filled with determination. The knight stood with the aid of the rough-hewn staff, leaning heavily upon it, his posture betraying the toll of his recent trials. His neck where he¡¯d taken the arrow was heavily bandaged.

    Alaric turned his attention to Torrin, noting the sincerity in his worn features. ¡°I am sure Grayson will welcome your counsel. But focus on getting healthy first.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Torrin replied, inclining his head slightly.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze drifted and caught sight of his mother standing under the darkened arch of the gatehouse, next to a hissing torch. Her figure was a contrast against the stone, which in the early morning gloom appeared almost pitch-black. He walked back to her, his steps slow, almost reluctant.

    She moved forward, approaching the last few feet with open arms, enveloping him in a warm embrace that smelled faintly of lavender and home. Surprisingly, when she pulled away, torchlight reflected in the tears glistening in her eyes¡ªa rare display of vulnerability from the matriarch of their house.

    She quickly dabbed at the tears with a delicate handkerchief, her other hand lingering on his arm, her touch conveying a world of unspoken fears and hopes for his safety. The moment, tender and poignant, underscored the weight of the impending separation as the reality of war loomed over them both.

    ¡°Come back to me,¡± she said softly, her voice thick with emotion, eyes searching his for assurance. ¡°I can¡¯t bear to be alone¡­ not again.¡±You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

    ¡°I will return,¡± Alaric affirmed, his tone steady, imbued with a confident resolve. His gaze momentarily shifted to where Grayson stood at the end of the drawbridge, conversing with Torrin. The distance made their words inaudible, but the seriousness of their exchange was evident even from afar. ¡°I trust Grayson.¡±

    ¡°I do as well,¡± Elara responded, her voice holding a note of reservation. ¡°But he is not family.¡±

    ¡°He is to me,¡± Alaric countered gently, his eyes returning to meet his mother¡¯s. ¡°I left orders for him to include you in the managing of our lands and holdings. He is to seek your blessing with major decisions. Go easy on him. Try not to cause him too many headaches.¡±

    ¡°I can do that,¡± Elara replied, a flicker of determination lighting up her features. She understood the weight of the responsibilities being placed upon her shoulders, not just as a mother, but as a custodian of their ancestral lands.

    ¡°Good,¡± Alaric said, satisfied. ¡°I do not have an idea on how long this campaign will take. I expect regular updates from you both.¡± His voice carried the unspoken worries of a son and a lord entrusting his home to the capable hands of those he counted on the most in his absence.

    ¡°Go now, my son,¡± Elara urged, her voice adopting a firmer timbre. ¡°Worry not about Dekar. We will manage her in your absence. Focus on the job before you and aim for a speedy return.¡±

    ¡°Very well, Mother.¡± Alaric¡¯s response was gentle, the warmth of his affection evident as he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. He gave her one more hug. ¡°I love you.¡±

    ¡°I love you as well, my son.¡± Her words, laden with emotion, followed him as he stepped back, their bond a strong tether amid the brewing storm of war.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze then shifted to Hamlin, who stood a few paces behind Elara. The old arms master, a constant figure in their lives, met Alaric¡¯s look with an unwavering gaze.

    ¡°Take care of her for me,¡± Alaric instructed.

    ¡°On my life,¡± Hamlin vowed, his response a solemn oath that resonated with loyalty and dedication. ¡°I will not allow what happened before to occur again. I swear to that, my lord.¡±

    Alaric acknowledged this promise with a curt nod, a gesture filled with gratitude. He then turned, his cloak swirling slightly as he made his way back to Grayson and Torrin, who turned at his approach.

    ¡°Do you have any last questions?¡± Alaric inquired.

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Grayson replied, his demeanor serious and focused. Beside him, Torrin gave a slight shake of his head, signaling he, too, had no queries. He and Grayson had spent several hours together the previous evening going over everything that either of them could think of that might pop up. Though he was still conflicted about leaving, Alaric felt reasonably good that Dekar was in capable hands.

    ¡°Then, gentlemen, I leave Dekar in your care.¡± Alaric extended his hand toward Grayson, who took it and shook warmly. He then offered and took Torrin¡¯s hand as well, the other man¡¯s grip alarmingly weak to the point of feebleness.

    ¡°Go with God,¡± Torrin imparted, his voice carrying a solemn wish for divine protection.

    Alaric nodded, acknowledging the old knight¡¯s blessing, and began to make his way toward his escort and his waiting mount.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Lieutenant Ganister greeted as he approached. The cavalry officer stood tall, his demeanor crisp as he saluted Alaric. He gestured to the left, where a horse was being held by a trooper. ¡°We¡¯ve saddled your horse. She awaits you.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, Lieutenant,¡± Alaric replied, stepping over to take the reins from the trooper. Maggie, his mount for this campaign, was not Fire, but she was a fine horse in her own right. Grayson had presented her to him as a gift when he¡¯d returned to the keep, mere hours ago. All signs indicated she would serve him well on the journey ahead, for she was powerfully built, a horse bred for war. Still, he felt Fire¡¯s loss keenly. He would miss that horse.

    A few feet away, Rikka stood holding the reins of her own horse, her gaze fixed on Alaric. Her expression was a mask of control, betraying nothing of her thoughts. Next to her, a cavalry trooper had a large furled banner in hand. The banner was wrapped in canvas and tied tightly with rope. Alaric felt himself scowl as he looked upon it, for he instantly knew what it was, what it represented. In fact, he¡¯d left orders for it to remain behind. His gaze shifted to Rikka and understood she had countermanded that order.

    ¡°Mount up,¡± Ganister ordered his men, and the air became filled with the heavy jingle of armor, the clinking of metal, and the sounds of horses snorting, whinnying, and stamping their feet.

    Glancing unhappily once more at the banner, Alaric turned to Maggie and firmly put it from his mind as he climbed up into his saddle and settled himself comfortably. Rikka and Kiera mirrored his actions, mounting their horses with practiced ease.

    Lieutenant Ganister¡¯s voice cut through the ambient noise of the assembling troops, ¡°Are you ready to proceed, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Aye, Lieutenant, I am.¡± Alaric gently nudged his horse forward into a slow walk, Maggie¡¯s steps sure and steady as he started to advance along the forming column of men.

    Rikka nudged her own horse to close the gap, pulling alongside Alaric. He glanced at her. While part of him wished she¡¯d remained behind for the safety of both her and their unborn child, another part was genuinely relieved by Rikka¡¯s presence. Her companionship had become something he relied upon, a near constant. To embark on such a journey without her by his side was something he found disheartening to even consider. The men had even accepted Rikka. As a lumina, they viewed her with a sense of awe and a direct mark of God¡¯s favor.

    Behind them, Kiera, Ezran, and Thorne took up position, effectively bringing up the rear.

    ¡°Fall in behind the earl, column of two,¡± Ganister commanded crisply. His order was promptly executed. Alaric¡¯s escort fell into a disciplined trot behind him, working to catch up. Ganister slowed his mount into a walk, matching Alaric¡¯s pace. His troopers did the same. Alaric glanced back and saw the trooper with the furled banner riding just behind Ganister.

    ¡°Your doing,¡± Alaric said, as more a statement than a question to Rikka.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Rikka said simply. ¡°I made sure it came along.¡±

    Alaric faced forward as they began passing by the men, most of whom were still forming into a column of four for the march. A spontaneous cheer erupted from the men they were passing. Alaric responded by raising a gloved hand, and the response was an even louder cheer, the sound rolling through the ranks like a wave as they continued forward, moving toward the vanguard of the column, which had likely stepped off and already begun the march. His soldiers were in high spirits, their morale buoyed by what they saw as an adventure about to begin. Only, Alaric well understood war was no adventure. It was a nightmare filled with killing, suffering, and blood.

    Whoever killed better usually won.

    As he continued his progress, Alaric passed by Eld, who was standing with his contingent of men-at-arms. One of Eld¡¯s men held the reins of the knight¡¯s horse. Eld noticed Alaric approaching and, with a swift motion, raised his armored hand in a hearty greeting.

    ¡°Good morning, my lord,¡± Eld called out over the din of the assembling troops. ¡°A fine day to march off to war, I think.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Alaric agreed. At his words, the nearest men erupted into cheers once more, their enthusiasm undimmed by the long march and hard day ahead.

    Then they were passing Keever and Duncan, along with their men-at-arms. Already mounted, Jourgan was a few feet ahead. For this campaign, Duncan would be Alaric¡¯s second in command.

    ¡°Good morning to you, my lord,¡± Duncan greeted.

    ¡°Gentlemen,¡± Alaric greeted as he passed.

    As the cheers continued to ring out, Alaric¡¯s thoughts drifted to past campaigns. He could not recall a time, apart from the initial departure for the Crusade, when his men had displayed such buoyant spirits. They had left home then with hearts full of zeal, but the harsh and unforgiving realities of the holy land had quickly dampened their ardor, including Alaric¡¯s, souring the mood as the grim nature of the job ahead took hold.

    Today, however, the air was different. It was filled with a sense of purpose and an undercurrent of unity. They were marching to defend and save their kingdom, to protect Dekar and, by extension, their families. The men seemed to carry not only their arms and armor, but also a collective hope that their cause was just and their leadership strong, trusted.

    ¡°You were born for this.¡± Rikka¡¯s words cut through the clamor of cheers, carrying a weight that made Alaric momentarily pause in his thoughts. He turned to her, Rikka¡¯s expression intense, eyes alight. ¡°You are now riding down the path of destiny. God has told me so.¡±

    Alaric felt sour. The idea of destiny had always been a double-edged sword for him. Though he believed in his god, he did not believe in destiny or prophecy. He never had. Alaric preferred to think he set his own path through life. Rikka¡¯s confidence in the prophecy added layers to his already complex feelings about the coming campaign.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± she said, noting his contemplative look. ¡°The time, as was prophesized, is fast approaching.¡±

 Chapter 12

    It was the second day of the march, and they were almost on the earldom of Kanar¡¯s border. Leading his horse by the reins, Alaric walked at the head of the column. He glanced up, squinting against the blinding light of the sun. It was overly hot. Sweat trickled down his face, tracing lines through the dust that clung stubbornly to his skin.

    His helmet, tied securely to the saddle, glinted in the sunlight as Maggie, her head down, trod dutifully after him. Alaric judged it to be just past midday. The heat was oppressive and relentless, and worse, it was quite humid and sticky. But it was not the hottest he¡¯d known. At times in the holy land, the sun and sand seemed to bake a man in his armor.

    At his side, also leading his horse, walked Jaxen. Sweat streamed down the officer¡¯s flushed face, but his posture was determined, and he was fit, young, and capable. It was his company¡¯s turn to lead the march, the First Dekar Heavy Infantry. Alaric had decided to march with them and their captain. He took turns with every unit and formation. That way, he got to know the men and they him. The soldiers of Jaxen¡¯s company, clad in their chainmail armor, moved in loose ranks behind them both, their boots crunching rhythmically against the dry, cracked roadbed, already in poor shape before they set foot along it. It was a sound to which Alaric was well accustomed. There was much talking, joking, and the occasional bark of laughter. The men were in good spirits.

    He much preferred leading the march, where the choking dust was the least suffocating. He had always disliked being in the rear or somewhere within the main body. In dry weather, even on the best of roads, an army kicked up a tremendous amount of dust. For miles away, the cloud generated by a march could be seen.

    The dust got in the eyes, mouth, lungs, ears¡ªeverywhere. It caused a man to cough and sneeze until the throat and nose were painfully sore. For days after, one would be hacking it up or snorting the dust out, attempting to rid oneself of it. Alaric could almost still taste the grit from the Cardinal King¡¯s last campaign and feel the blistering summer heat. The memory alone made him grimace. It was for that reason he rotated the order of march each day, to share the misery. The intention was to give each company a chance to lead.

    Alaric glanced up at the sky. Though it was quite humid, thankfully, it did not appear like rain was on the wind. In wet weather, mud was the problem. Armies quickly churned most roads, especially like the one they were moving along, to a thick morass, a mess that sometimes became several feet deep. It stuck to everything, making boots heavier than they should be, a real struggle just to move forward, one step at a time. Wagons, carts, and even horses and mules became mired in the sucking mud, stuck fast, sometimes requiring teams of men to help free them.

    Using his forearm, Alaric wiped sweat from his brow. The surrounding landscape through which they were marching was typical of late spring, with vibrant and wild green fields stretching out to either side of the road, dotted with wildflowers that swayed gently in the breeze. It was the heat and humidity that seemed uncommon, especially at this time of year, for it had come early. The occasional stand of trees they passed through provided some shade, their leaves rustling softly when the wind gusted. Birds flitted about and chirped intermittently, their songs a distant counterpoint to the steady crunch of boots and the heavy jingle of armor.

    Alaric did not much mind marching. It was exercise. He needed to stay fit, in shape, and this was one way to do that. Besides, Maggie needed a break. Her head was bowed, the heat having taken a toll on her.

    Alaric guided her well around a large pothole big and deep enough to fit a wagon. His road crews had not gotten here yet, to this part of Dekar. He made a mental note to write to Grayson to speed that up, especially if additional supplies and reinforcements were needed at some point. A better maintained road would help speed their arrival to his army.

    ¡°It is quite hot out,¡± Jaxen said, wiping sweat from his brow with a small towel. ¡°I¡¯ve always disliked the heat. Have I told you that, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Let me guess, you prefer the cold,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Winter?¡±

    ¡°I do. I enjoy the snow.¡±

    Alaric looked over. ¡°Have you marched in it? Have you marched to war in snow?¡±

    Alaric already knew the answer he would receive, for Jaxen had yet to go to war. He¡¯d been in small fights, but nothing substantial.

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Jaxen said. ¡°I would not want to try either.¡±

    Alaric gave a light chuckle. ¡°There¡¯s a reason why campaigning stops when winter arrives.¡±

    ¡°I know it, my lord,¡± Jaxen said.

    ¡°In this heat, we¡¯re exerting ourselves and wearing armor. That makes it worse, the march more difficult than it should. In the holy land, in the middle of the summer months, it gets to the point where you feel you¡¯re about to melt or be cooked alive. The sun overhead becomes unbearable. There are times of year where the armies only move at night, by the light of the moon, for it is unsafe to do so during the day. You would lose too many men, too many horses and mules.¡±

    Jaxen appeared skeptical. Then his expression changed to one of curiosity and longing. ¡°I would have liked to have gone on Crusade, to see the holy lands. My father said I was too young to go.¡±

    ¡°You don¡¯t want that,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Divinara is not what you think, and neither was the Crusade. I certainly wasn¡¯t expecting what I found.¡±

    ¡°How so?¡± Jaxen asked.

    ¡°It is not the promised land that people dream of, not the perfect place brimming with milk and honey, overflowing with the mana of God. After my blinders fell away, I thought the place cursed.¡±

    ¡°Cursed?¡± Jaxen seemed surprised by that.

    ¡°It is terribly dry, hot, and very unsanitary. The people who reside there are a disagreeable lot and not to be trusted. Food is scarce. Sometimes water is fought over. The strong survive and the weak succumb.¡±

    Jaxen led his horse around a small but deep pothole that ran on his side of the road as he glanced back over at Alaric. He did not say anything, but Alaric could read the doubt in his eyes.

    ¡°It is a dangerous land,¡± Alaric continued, his voice becoming grave. ¡°You don¡¯t know who to trust. One day, without warning, a friend could turn enemy and try to stick a knife in your back. It happened to me on more than one occasion.¡±

    Jaxen¡¯s eyes widened at that.

    ¡°The general population is untrustworthy,¡± Alaric added, ¡°and will steal without a moment¡¯s thought and with little compunction. There are rules, societal norms, of course, but those are easily broken and often ignored when convenient, especially when it comes to food and water.¡±

    Jaxen frowned, maneuvering himself and his horse carefully around yet another pothole, which riddled this portion of the road. Old wagon tracks and cart grooves cut right through the pothole.

    ¡°I find that difficult to imagine,¡± Jaxen admitted, expression a mixture of skepticism and curiosity. The captain¡¯s face was flushed and covered in dirt and sweat. Like everyone else, he was miserable and dirty.

    Alaric let go a breath, scanning the horizon, as if seeing the distant, troubled land of Divinara. He¡¯d had this problem before, telling those who¡¯d not been there what it was actually like, how things worked in the holy lands. He¡¯d encountered disbelief and outright skepticism. They held preconceived notions. Alaric found it frustrating. Then again, he reminded himself, before he left, he¡¯d had those same ideas.

    ¡°It¡¯s hard to describe unless you¡¯ve been there. The heat and dust get into everything, even when you are not marching. You are always cleaning your gear and yourself, bathing when able. There¡¯s a constant sense of tension hovering about you, of waiting for the next betrayal, the next threat to materialize¡­ what the enemy is doing. It¡¯s a land where trust is a luxury you can rarely afford.¡±

    Farther out from the road, the wild fields were bordered by a scattering of trees. Insects buzzed lazily about, adding to the chorus of the countryside, while the crunch of boots and the clinking and chinking of armor continued to provide a steady, rhythmic background to their conversation. Alaric waved at a persistent fly hovering by his right ear, doing little good, for the buzzing continued.

    ¡°It is true,¡± Ezran said from behind. Like Alaric, he and Thorne were leading their horses. They were staying close, shadowing him. Jaxen glanced back at the former ash man, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

    ¡°Be thankful you were brought up in these lands,¡± Thorne added, his voice carrying a note of caution, not to mention warning. ¡°In Divinara, you always had to keep one eye open at night and, when out and about, look over your shoulder for trouble. There were cutpurses and worse all around, waiting for a moment of weakness to pounce. It was especially bad for unwary foreigners, for those who came with eyes wide, expecting faith and miracles and kindness around every corner.¡±Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°I see,¡± Jaxen said, though his voice lacked the conviction of belief.

    ¡°No, you don¡¯t,¡± Thorne said, shaking his head. ¡°You can¡¯t truly understand unless you¡¯ve been there and lived it.¡±

    ¡°Like you have,¡± Jaxen said.

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Thorne replied. ¡°I have lived it, as has Ezran and your lord.¡±

    Tiring of the conversation, Alaric found himself focusing more on the terrain. They fell silent as the road worked its way up and crested a moderate-sized hill. Jaxen had clearly been given something to think about, for he did not speak. Reaching the top of the hill, Alaric saw thick forest ahead. That told him they were less than a mile from Kanar¡¯s border.

    Eyeing the forest, he savored a moment of vast relief. Upon entering it, they would be in the shade and mostly out of the sun. With Jaxen at his side, he began starting down the reverse side of the hill, leading the column, which snaked behind them.

    They had passed through a small village five miles back, its inhabitants wary but respectful, bowing to their lord as the column marched through. Alaric had noted the lack of enthusiastic welcome. It meant the villagers still felt somewhat unsafe, not enough to run and hide, but just to be cautious. Maybe, Alaric considered, though Kanar was friendly, it was time to establish a permanent fort, place a garrison near the village and station a company there. That would instill a sense of security amongst the villagers and those who lived nearby. In addition to that, it would also bring in funds to the village, as his soldiers would spend their pay there, buying food and drink. That would help the village grow and prosper.

    Alaric had noted there was plenty of water in these parts. They had already crossed more than a dozen rivers and streams. Perhaps it was also time to develop this area, to sell and lease land grants, especially near the few villages out this way. There was fertile-looking land to either side of the road, and he noted the potential for growth. His strategy had been to focus on other parts of Dekar first, developing the infrastructure there, where the population was already strong and able to support more rapid expansion. However, this region, with its abundant water sources and good soil, seemed ripe for cultivation and settlement.

    Improving the road and adding a few hundred farmers would help begin to push back the wilderness, to tame the region. Like elsewhere, the rich grasslands and forests could be transformed into productive farmland. Alaric imagined neat rows of crops replacing the wild grasses and small hamlets rising where there was now only open or forested land, wilderness.

    It was something to think on, to consider. As the column moved steadily toward Kanar¡¯s border and the forest, Alaric made a mental note to write Grayson at his next opportunity. The potential was undeniable, and with careful planning, this mostly uninhabited stretch could become a thriving part of his domain.

    Motion ahead drew Alaric¡¯s attention. A rider was trotting toward them, one of his mounted horse soldiers. The man was not in a rush. That told Alaric whatever news he brought wasn¡¯t urgent. He relaxed a little. They closed the distance rapidly. The soldier on the horse pulled his mount up and saluted before wheeling her around and falling in alongside Alaric, who had not stopped.

    ¡°Report,¡± Alaric ordered, his tone commanding. He had spoken to the man once before but could not recall his name. He was one of Ganister¡¯s troopers.

    ¡°My lord,¡± the trooper said, his voice steady. ¡°The border with Kanar is just ahead. Jasper reports the way is safe. His rangers found no one lying in wait. Lord Ulden is just over the bridge and border. He offers his cord¡­ cordirial¡­ cordial compliments and is looking forward to greeting you.¡±

    Alaric nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed what he¡¯d just been told. He had sent word ahead that he was coming with his army at the king¡¯s summons. Consequently, he expected some sort of welcoming committee from Kanar. The news was reassuring, indicating their arrival was anticipated and that the border crossing would be smooth and without trouble. Alaric had expected no issues, for Ulden¡¯s father, the Earl of Kanar, was a friend.

    ¡°Anything else to report?¡± Alaric inquired, his eyes fixing on the trooper.

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± the trooper replied. ¡°That is all. My corporal sent me back. He and the advance party have continued farther up the road and are now well past Lord Ulden and his party.¡±

    ¡°Thank you. You may return to your corporal,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Carry on, soldier.¡±

    The trooper saluted again, then nudged his horse back into a trot. Horse and rider rapidly pulled away from Alaric and the column. Ahead, the forest closed in on the road, the tall trees forming a natural barrier as the road disappeared in shadow around a bend. Within a short time, the scout had entered the forest and passed from view.

    After a few hundred heartbeats, Jaxen broke the silence. ¡°Well, that is encouraging.¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Alaric agreed.

    The dense forest ahead signaled a transition, the looming trees casting long shadows over the road. As they steadily drew closer and then entered, the air became much cooler, the oppressive heat of the day fading with every step, a direct result of the canopy overhead. The road, though still dusty, uneven, and poorly maintained, felt different as they neared the border, as if heralding a significant change to come.

    ¡°There.¡± Jaxen pointed.

    Alaric looked and saw a bridge ahead, no more than two hundred yards away. It was a wooden span, narrow but just wide enough for a wagon, and arched slightly at the center. Just beyond it, on the other side of the small river, waited a party of ten horsemen.

    Alaric stopped and walked around the side of his horse. Taking the reins firmly in hand, he pulled himself up into the saddle, the leather creaking under his weight. Thorne and Ezran did the same, their movements fluid and practiced.

    ¡°Jaxen, keep the men marching,¡± Alaric ordered, his voice firm as he readied himself. ¡°We don¡¯t stop, even for the welcoming party, understand? I won¡¯t have the entire column backing up, starting and stopping.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jaxen said. ¡°I will keep the column marching.¡±

    ¡°Very good.¡± Alaric nudged his heels into the flanks of Maggie, propelling the animal into a light canter. Thorne and Ezran matched his pace, their horses moving in unison behind him. The thud of hooves seemed to echo against the trees as they approached the bridge. Then they were riding over it, the structure creaking and groaning slightly under the weight of the horses. The river over which the bridge arched was small, dark, and fast-moving.

    Ulden raised a hand in greeting as Alaric made his way over to the other side of the river. His group of cavalrymen waited off to the side of the road. They sat astride their mounts, their eyes fixed on the approaching trio. Alaric brought Maggie to a halt before Ulden.

    ¡°Lord Ulden,¡± Alaric greeted, ¡°permission to bring Dekar¡¯s finest into Kanar.¡±

    ¡°As long as you promise not to raze, rape, and pillage Kanar, you have both my father¡¯s and my permission to cross the border.¡±

    Alaric barked out a laugh. ¡°We will behave ourselves. Have no doubt, my officers will see to that.¡±

    Grinning, Ulden moved his horse forward and up to Alaric¡¯s side. He reached out a hand, which Alaric took. Ulden¡¯s hand was firm and hard. ¡°Welcome to Kanar, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Thank you.¡±

    ¡°Oh¡­ a few weeks back, your man, Grayson, sent word about the assassins, the attempt upon your life by the Black Hand,¡± Ulden said.

    ¡°What of them?¡± Alaric asked, going cold despite the heat of the day.

    ¡°I had my men on the lookout for those with tattoos on their palms or wearing gloves. Last week, we caught two of them trying to pass themselves off as traders. They were moving through our lands, heading toward yours.¡±

    ¡°What did you do with them?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°They refused to be taken,¡± Ulden said with a shrug.

    ¡°They died well,¡± Ezran said. ¡°Is that what you are saying, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Ulden said, glancing at the ash man, ¡°and took three of my men with them. Their blades were poisoned¡­ nasty bastards.¡±

    Glancing back at Ezran, Alaric gave an unhappy nod. Sunara had sent more assassins. Alaric must remain on guard, watchful, for another attempt on his life was likely.

    ¡°I am sorry for the loss of your men,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°The assassins got what they deserved, nothing more, nothing less,¡± Ulden said. ¡°I don¡¯t like assassins.¡±

    ¡°Neither do I,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Will you do me the honor of joining me tonight for a feast in your honor?¡± Ulden said, his voice becoming warm. ¡°Would you give me and my mother a chance to offer Kanar¡¯s hospitality in my father¡¯s absence?¡±

    ¡°That would be most welcome,¡± Alaric replied. This he understood was unavoidable and was only to be expected, a social courtesy. It would require having to catch up with his army come the morning, for Alaric would not stop the march until the sun set. He was late to the war and would push his men as hard as he could to make up lost time.

    In Alaric¡¯s absence, Duncan would see the army settled in for the night. Krin Hall, the Earl of Kanar¡¯s keep, was only a handful of miles distant.

    ¡°Since you are greeting me, I take it your father marched, then?¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Ulden said as the head of Jaxen¡¯s company reached the bridge and began to march over it, the wood thundering with the massed sound of so many feet. ¡°Almost a week and a half ago. Honestly, I was wondering what was keeping you.¡±

    ¡°Word from the king never came,¡± Alaric said, a hint of frustration in his voice. ¡°For some reason, the original messenger did not make it to me.¡±

    ¡°That is unfortunate,¡± Ulden said as he eyed the approaching men, the vanguard of Alaric¡¯s army. Jaxen saluted and the men gave a cheer as they stepped from the bridge onto Kanar¡¯s land and continued marching past, grinding their way down the road and into Kanar. ¡°How many are you sending off to war?¡±

    ¡°Six full companies,¡± Alaric answered, ¡°along with militia, my bannermen, and their men-at-arms, about fifteen hundred men all told.¡±

    Ulden did a double take and gave a low whistle. ¡°That many? Truly?¡±

    ¡°How many did your father take?¡±

    ¡°Just two light companies, maybe three hundred men all told.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod. Kanar, smaller than Dekar, was less populated and not as wealthy. But Ulden¡¯s father, Braekor, was known for being a fighter.

    ¡°Your father¡¯s men are respected for their spirit and fight. What Kanar lacks in numbers, you make up for in grit and determination.¡±

    Ulden grinned, a hint of pride in his eyes. ¡°Aye, we do.¡± The young man¡¯s gaze shifted to Alaric¡¯s soldiers marching past. ¡°But it¡¯s still good to have strong allies, especially in times like these.¡±

    ¡°Any news on the war?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°None of any consequence.¡± Ulden shook his head. ¡°Though I would expect some soon, word of a skirmish or two, maybe even a battle.¡± He glanced at the sky. ¡°Damned hot out, even here in the shade. I have some chilled wine waiting back at the keep. Shall we ride, then? We can talk more along the way and exchange news.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod, then looked over at the column that continued to march by. ¡°I assume Rikka and a personal guard are welcome?¡±

    ¡°Of course, my lord,¡± Ulden said. ¡°My mother can¡¯t wait to see Rikka again. Like you, she adores her.¡±

    Alaric turned in the saddle. ¡°Thorne, round up an honor guard, two squads from Jaxen¡¯s company, and send someone back down the column to notify Rikka that we are waiting on her. As soon as she and Kiera join us, we will set off for Lord Braekor¡¯s keep.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord.¡± Thorne wheeled his horse away to carry out his orders, galloping off to catch up with Jaxen.

    With the column marching by, Alaric watched his soldiers. He felt an intense stab of frustration as he thought on the news Ulden passed along. The Black Hand were like rats. Where you saw one, there were more hiding just out of view.

 Chapter 13

    Having ridden through the castle gate and into the small courtyard, Alaric pulled Maggie up to a halt and dismounted. Ulden and his escort were doing the same. The clatter of hooves and shouts echoed off the walls. Half a dozen stable hands, young boys, ran forward with eager energy to take the horses¡¯ reins and lead them away.

    It had been a few months since Alaric had last been to Krin Hall, the small castle named after Braekor¡¯s grandfather, the first Earl of Kanar. When Alaric had been a child, Braekor had taken this land by force from a sworn enemy, killing his opponent in personal combat and claiming the title of earl.

    The familiar sight of Krin Hall¡¯s block-like central keep, the sturdy tower and thick walls overgrown with ivy, greeted him like an old friend. Unlike in the capital, Alaric could relax some here, almost make himself at home.

    Though smaller and less imposing than Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest, Krin Hall held its own quaint charm. Set deep within the forests of Kanar, it stood beside Miller¡¯s Corner, a modest town nestled along a winding road and a small river called Fast Run. During his last visit, Alaric had learned the river was filled with trout. He and Ulden had spent an entire day simply fishing, relaxing on the riverbank, and talking the hours away while they cast lines. They had returned with a healthy catch. Alaric let go a breath. There would be no time for such things this visit.

    Rikka and Kiera had dismounted. Thorne and Ezran followed suit, scanning for threats, their keen eyes working to take in every detail and face amidst the chaos about them. Alaric¡¯s escort of foot soldiers had come to a halt. The men were gazing around curiously, their mouths nearly hanging open. A corporal led the detail, his posture reflecting both his duty and awe. Alaric figured there was a good chance it was the first time these men had ever left Dekar¡¯s borders or, for that matter, had ever been in a castle, other than his own.

    The courtyard buzzed with activity. Chickens clucked and pecked at the ground while a pair of dogs, hunting hounds, darted around, sniffing at the newcomers and barking excitedly. Alaric took a deep breath, savoring the familiar scents and sounds. It felt good to be back at Krin Hall, even if it was just for a short visit, a mere handful of hours before he had to set off again and march to war.

    ¡°Make sure my horse is well taken care of, brushed down, and fed,¡± Alaric instructed the stable hand who had come to take his horse, a lad no older than twelve with a shock of bright red hair. The boy nodded eagerly and took the reins of Alaric¡¯s mount, leading Maggie away with a firm but gentle hand toward the stables along the north wall.

    Alaric turned around to find Thorne, who was adjusting his sword belt. Thorne¡¯s horse was also being led away for the stables. His gaze was running around the courtyard once more, eyeing those nearest.

    ¡°Thorne,¡± Alaric said, getting the other¡¯s attention.

    ¡°My lord.¡± Thorne turned his attention to Alaric.

    ¡°See that Jaxen¡¯s men get properly billeted and fed for the night.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Thorne said with a nod of assurance. ¡°What about a guard detail for you tonight?¡± He looked over as Ezran joined them. ¡°Ezran and I will take turns standing duty, but with the Black Hand here in Kanar¡­ I think it would be wise for more men to be posted outside your quarters.¡±

    Alaric gave an understanding nod. The threat of the Black Hand had been a dark shadow since the attack. There had been no way to know if more of the assassins had been sent. It was now clear more were out there. That they were in Kanar meant he could not allow his guard fully down, sadly, not even here. ¡°How many would you recommend?¡±

    ¡°Four outside your quarters at all times,¡± Ezran interjected before Thorne could respond, his sharp eyes scanning the courtyard once more.

    Thorne gave a nod of agreement. ¡°With one of us on hand at all times, that will work, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Then make it happen,¡± Alaric said.

    Thorne turned away, moving with purpose toward the guard detail and the corporal to pass along the orders.

    Ezran lingered, his hand patting the hilt of his sword. ¡°The Black Hand won¡¯t catch us off guard, my lord,¡± he said quietly, his voice steady. ¡°Not again.¡±

    ¡°My dear Alaric, it¡¯s been so long¡ªtoo long.¡±

    Alaric turned to find Sissa, Braekor¡¯s wife, approaching with her characteristic warmth. She was a short woman, standing just under five feet, plump with an honest face that radiated kindness. Her graying brown hair was tied into short braids. Her arms were wide open, inviting, and expecting a hug.

    Alaric swept her up into his arms, lifting her off the ground, and received a wet kiss on the cheek. She giggled like a little girl as he set her down.

    ¡°You stink,¡± Sissa said, scrunching up her nose.

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric admitted with a chuckle. ¡°It¡¯s been an overly hot day and we¡¯ve come a long way.¡±

    ¡°Still, it is good to see you, my dear boy,¡± Sissa said, her eyes twinkling with delight. ¡°How is your mother? How is my good friend Elara doing?¡±

    ¡°She is well,¡± Alaric replied, a fond smile touching his lips. ¡°I left her home to watch over Grayson, who is running things in my absence.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve always liked that man,¡± Sissa said, nodding appreciatively. ¡°He has a good heart. He is loyal to a fault, not to mention nice to look at. Though don¡¯t tell Braekor I said that¡­¡±

    ¡°My lips are sealed.¡± Alaric caught sight of Ulden breaking away from his men and working his way across the courtyard to join them. ¡°Though I may have to tell Grayson you said so.¡±

    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare.¡± Blushing furiously, Sissa shot him a scandalized look.

    ¡°Mother,¡± Ulden said, gesturing at Alaric as he joined them, ¡°look what the cat dragged home.¡±

    Sissa giggled at her son¡¯s remark, the sound as light and joyous as a bell. Alaric felt himself already relaxing a tad. He was amongst friends. When he traveled beyond the confines of Dekar, he could not always claim that.

    ¡°While my army continues the march and camps a few miles up the road, your son agreed to put us up for the night, my lady,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I trust we are not imposing overly much.¡±

    ¡°Not at all, my boy, not at all,¡± Sissa replied. ¡°It is always an honor to have you in my home. It is just a shame Braekor is not here to welcome you himself.¡±

    Alaric felt his heart warm at her words, for they were said with genuine sincerity. Since he¡¯d returned home to Kevahn, Braekor¡¯s family had been nothing but kind to his. After they¡¯d learned of the affair with Laval, Braekor had even offered to stand with him if the duke retaliated or tried anything further.

    ¡°I am sure I will be seeing Braekor soon enough,¡± Alaric said.

    A dark cloud passed over Sissa¡¯s face. It lasted a heartbeat, but Alaric read the naked worry residing within her gaze. ¡°Ulden sent word on ahead that you would be joining us,¡± Sissa continued, glancing away toward the keep¡¯s entrance. ¡°I¡¯ve had the cooks hard at work all day and the guest rooms cleaned. Your stay here should be quite pleasant.¡±

    ¡°That is very kind of you,¡± Rikka said, stepping forward with a grateful smile. ¡°And it always is pleasant.¡±

    Sissa gasped, her eyes lighting up with delight. She rushed forward, brushing past Alaric, and engulfed the lumina in a bear hug, shaking her back and forth. ¡°I can¡¯t believe he brought you! I just can¡¯t believe it.¡± Pulling back some, she looked over at Alaric with an unhappy and accusing expression. ¡°Why are you taking her to war? I would like you to explain that one to me.¡±

    ¡°As if he had a choice in the matter.¡± Rikka laughed, a sound that Alaric loved hearing, and hugged the old woman back. After several moments, they broke apart, still holding each other¡¯s hands. ¡°I go where he goes. Such are the commands of our god.¡± She paused, looking into the other woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°How are you, Sissa?¡±

    ¡°Getting older with each passing day, my dear lumina.¡± Sissa lowered her tone conspiratorially. ¡°We must talk about magic. I¡¯ve been practicing what you taught me. I have been working hard at it, each and every day.¡±

    Alaric found himself surprised. He had no idea that magic could be taught, let alone that Rikka had given Sissa some schooling on the matter. He¡¯d always thought magic was something one was born with, or given by Eldanar, a rare and potentially powerful gift.

    ¡°Have you been studying?¡± Rikka asked, eyes narrowing skeptically, as if looking for deceit.

    ¡°Oh yes. Through the meditation exercises, I feel Eldanar a little more every day,¡± Sissa confided, her eyes shining with excitement and a hint of pride. ¡°There are days I can really feel his touch quite strongly. Oh¡ªoh, and I can¡¯t wait to show you¡­ I¡¯ve even managed to light a candle with magic.¡±

    ¡°She has,¡± Ulden said, looking from Rikka to Alaric. ¡°When she did it, I was enjoying a good ale with my father and spilled it all over myself.¡±

    ¡°What was your father¡¯s reaction?¡± Alaric asked.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

    ¡°He fell out of his chair.¡±

    Alaric chuckled at that one.

    ¡°That is a very good sign,¡± Rikka said. ¡°Eldanar is the path forward, the light in the darkness. That you have accomplished so much already shows God is pleased. You may be ready for the next stage of your journey.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Sissa said eagerly. ¡°I am more than ready to learn more.¡±

    ¡°That will require intensive dedication and practice, several hours each day,¡± Rikka said. ¡°If you are truly ready and I judge you so after feeling you wield the mana, I will teach you the rites and way of the next level.¡±

    ¡°I just love you,¡± Sissa said and hugged Rikka once more. ¡°I am so excited to show you all I can do.¡±

    ¡°And I am excited to see it,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°We shall have to talk. Yes, talk we shall. Tonight, at the feast, you sit by me, my dear. We¡¯ll talk, yes? Then, later, after everyone has gone, you will teach me more?¡±

    ¡°We shall talk,¡± Rikka replied warmly. ¡°I want to hear all about your studies and if you are ready for the next stage of your journey, then, as I have said, I will begin teaching you more.¡±

    Sissa nodded vigorously, then turned to look closely at Alaric. ¡°When are you going to make this woman honest?¡±

    ¡°She¡¯s been blessed by Eldanar himself,¡± Alaric countered. ¡°It doesn¡¯t get any purer than that.¡±

    Sissa scowled at him. ¡°Don¡¯t be funny with me, boy. You know what I mean, marry her and start a family¡­¡±

    Alaric looked over at Rikka and their eyes met. In them, he read love and a deep hurt, one that, no matter what he did, seemed to be growing by the day. He felt like he could lose himself to her gaze. ¡°She already is family, just not in the way that is expected.¡±

    ¡°It is not up to him,¡± Rikka said before Sissa could say more. ¡°It is Eldanar¡¯s desire that keeps him from wedding me. Otherwise, he would have brought me to the altar and made me his¡ªwife.¡±

    ¡°I would have done so in a heartbeat,¡± Alaric admitted, his gaze still on Rikka.

    Sissa looked between them both, then waved a dismissive hand. ¡°I will pray for you two, then, and fervently at that. Perhaps, since he is approving of me, Eldanar will listen to this old woman and give you both an opportunity to be happy.¡± She glanced behind her, and her face clouded. ¡°I had best check on the kitchen and the staff, make sure everything is ready. There is no telling what they might do wrong in my absence.¡±

    Without another word, Sissa hurried through the dispersing crowd toward the keep¡¯s main entrance. Alaric glanced around and noticed only a handful of sentries manning the walls, along with two standing down by the gatehouse. Idly, he wondered how many men-at-arms had remained behind to defend the family¡¯s interests while Braekor was gone. It could not be very many. The castle was likely now defended by no more than a couple dozen men.

    ¡°My mother is terribly excited by the prospect of company,¡± Ulden said with a grin, glancing back the way she had gone. ¡°It¡¯s been weeks since we have entertained, and with my father being away, well¡­ she is lonely, and this gives her an opportunity to put her worries aside, at least for a time. I hope you will forgive her enthusiasm.¡±

    ¡°There is nothing to forgive,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I am certain my own mother is lonely too.¡± He paused as a thought occurred to him. ¡°Perhaps you and I can arrange regular visits for them both? After all, Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest is only a day¡¯s carriage ride away. I think they would both enjoy that.¡±

    ¡°That¡±¡ªUlden shook a finger at Alaric while nodding¡ª¡°is really not a bad idea. My mother has been terribly worried about my father. He is getting older, and war is a young man¡¯s game. At least she says so. I should have gone in his stead, only he bade me remain and look after our interests here.¡± Ulden once more looked in the direction his mother had gone. ¡°Some travel would take her mind off things, ease her worrying some.¡±

    ¡°Then it is settled,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I shall write my mother tonight and tell her Sissa will be coming for a visit.¡±

    ¡°Nothing is ever truly settled with my mother,¡± Ulden cautioned. ¡°I will suggest a visit to her. She will have to make her own mind up on the matter.¡±

    ¡°And I will tell your mother at dinner that my mother could use some cheering up,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°I will encourage some as well,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°That,¡± Ulden said sagely with a nod, ¡°should work nicely. She has always enjoyed Elara¡¯s company and should feel compelled to go, especially if your mother is lonely too. It is as good an excuse as any. Between the three of us, I dare say we can make this happen.¡±

    ¡°Ulden, do you have a place for us to freshen up?¡± Rikka asked. ¡°We have been traveling much of the day and I am covered in dust from the road, not to mention sticky from the sweat. I would really like to bathe, wash my hair, and make myself presentable before dinner.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Ulden said, ¡°this way. I will show you to your room.¡±

    He began leading them away. Alaric hesitated and glanced back. The two mules the infantry had brought with them had been carrying his and Rikka¡¯s packs. Ezran and Kiera now had them in hand. Satisfied, Alaric nodded gratefully and gestured for Rikka to go first. She had turned to see why he¡¯d stopped. She followed after Ulden, who led them both to the keep¡¯s entrance. The heavily reinforced door was open, revealing a darkened corridor that ran ten yards before ending at another door. Several other closed doors led off the corridor to different parts of the keep.

    Lantern light lit the way ahead, casting a warm, flickering glow that danced against the walls. The temperature dropped immediately once they were inside, the plastered stone of the keep acting as an insulator against the day¡¯s heat, not to mention the humidity.

    With its thick walls and wooden doors, the corridor had an ancient, sturdy, and timeless feel. The scent of aged wood and faint traces of herbs used for cleaning filled the air, driving away any mustiness or general stink.

    Ulden stopped at the door at the far end, opened it, and then stepped through. Rikka and Alaric followed and found themselves in a small great room, very much like his own at Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest. The smell of food was strong. Several servants were busy putting down place settings and pouring goblets of wine and ale.

    The hall was cozy, with a large fireplace crackling warmly at one end. Tapestries depicting scenes of hunting and feasting adorned the walls, adding a touch of color and history. The tables were already laden with platters of roasted meats, bowls of seasoned vegetables, and trays of ripe fruit. The scent of herbs and spices, especially garlic, mingled with the aroma of the freshly baked bread. Alaric¡¯s stomach rumbled at the thought and smell of fresh food.

    ¡°This way.¡± Ulden led them to the back of the hall, to a set of stone stairs. ¡°It is a shame that war is afoot. My mother would enjoy a longer stay.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Alaric said as he climbed the steps to the next floor. ¡°I would enjoy that as well. Perhaps after this issue with Averndale is put to bed, we can arrange that.¡±

    ¡°When the war is over,¡± Rikka said, her voice filled with hope, ¡°there will be more time for such things, extended visits.¡±

    ¡°Quite right,¡± Ulden said as he started up the next flight of stairs. Behind them came Ezran and Kiera. The sound of their hobnailed boots echoed against the stone walls. ¡°Here we are.¡±

    A second-floor hallway spread out before them, lined with four doors on either side. Lanterns hanging from wrought-iron sconces cast a warm, flickering light that pushed back against the shadows. There were no other exits besides the stairs they had just climbed. This was the guest wing of the keep.

    Ulden led them to the nearest door on the left and pushed it open, revealing a spacious room with a large bed, a wooden chest for personal possessions, and a small writing desk, complete with inkwell and parchment. The room was modestly furnished but comfortable, with thick tapestries on the walls to ward off the chill from the stone at night. A small fireplace was set into the far wall, with wood stacked and ready to be lit if needed.

    Alaric stepped inside and studied the room. It was small, but well-appointed. It had two windows, shutters open, allowing in the light of the day. There was a side room for one to conduct a personal toilet. A lit oil lamp inside revealed a washbasin, along with several jugs of water.

    ¡°I trust this is acceptable?¡± Ulden asked.

    ¡°It is perfect,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°Good. The room across the hall has been set aside for your Shadow Guard. I know how you like them close at hand, and with the Black Hand about, I don¡¯t blame you that. In fact, if you wish to quarter your entire escort here, this wing is yours.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate all you have done,¡± Alaric said. ¡°These quarters beat a tent and a cot.¡±

    ¡°Good, then I shall leave you both to change and clean up. I will do the same and see you downstairs in, say, an hour and a half?¡±

    ¡°That works,¡± Alaric said, and with that, Ulden left them, heading for the stairs.

    ¡°Where do you want the packs?¡± Ezran asked.

    ¡°There, please,¡± Rikka said, pointing to the bed.

    Alaric eyed the bed. It looked comfortable enough and certainly beat the cot he¡¯d slept on the night before. Kiera and Ezran set the packs down at the foot of the bed. Ezran glanced around the room once, went to one of the windows and looked out, staring straight down. Seemingly satisfied that it was safe and no one could reasonably scale their way up, he gave Kiera a curt nod.

    ¡°I will take Lord Ulden up on his offer,¡± Ezran said, ¡°and move all of our men up here. Better have them close at hand than down in the barracks.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s fine. Just make sure they stay out of trouble,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Ezran said.

    ¡°Should you have any problems, one of us will be right outside at all times,¡± Kiera said.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Rikka said. ¡°Make sure you both take time to clean up as well¡ªbefore the feast, that is.¡±

    ¡°We will, my lady lumina,¡± Kiera said. They both filed out of the room, closing the door behind them.

    Alaric moved to the bed and pressed down on the bed cover, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath his fingers. It was likely stuffed with goose feathers. Rikka walked over to the washbasin in the side room, pouring water from the jug into the basin. She splashed the cool water on her face and began washing away the dust with a towel that had been set next to the basin on a small table.

    ¡°This place really is a sanctuary,¡± she said, looking at Alaric as she continued to work away the dust. ¡°I have enjoyed our visits here. I like Krin Hall very much.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re alone,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Yes, alone.¡± Rikka went to her pack and untied the flap. She rummaged inside before pulling out a wool dress that had been dyed a rich blue. She looked up at him. ¡°You need to make yourself presentable. Get undressed and get to work.¡±

    ¡°Is that an order?¡±

    ¡°It is.¡±

    Alaric began to untie the straps of his armor. It would be good to get the heavy thing off. He glanced at the bed again and then at Rikka.

    ¡°We only have little over an hour,¡± Rikka reminded him, catching his look and clearly picking up on his thoughts.

    ¡°That¡¯s enough time for some fun,¡± Alaric said with a playful grin.

    ¡°For you maybe.¡± She let out a laugh and shook her head. ¡°Seriously, we need to clean up and make ourselves ready. My hair alone will take some time.¡±

    ¡°Can¡¯t you magic it?¡± Alaric asked.

    She turned a hard look on him. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way. And if I tried, Eldanar would likely frown on the use of his gift in such a manner. Now, clean up. You are wasting time.¡±

    A little disappointed but understanding, Alaric finished untying the straps holding his breastplate in place. He lifted his chest armor over his head and carefully set it on the stone with a heavy clunk. Michael had not made the trip with them. He would need to spend some time cleaning it later. He could leave it for the keep¡¯s servants, but he did not know them. They might damage it.

    The padded leather jacket he wore under the plate was almost soaked through with sweat. Alaric knew he¡¯d smell terribly once he removed it and the shirt underneath that. He glanced toward the washbasin, knowing he had his work cut out.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Rikka said, noticing his look. She wrinkled her nose. ¡°You already smell, and we¡¯ll both need to use that basin.¡±

    Alaric found himself frowning at her.

    She pointed at the washroom and stamped her foot impatiently. ¡°Now. Get to work.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my love,¡± Alaric said, moving to obey.

    In the washroom, Alaric peeled off the damp padded jacket and the shirt beneath, feeling the cool air against his naked skin. It was a sweet relief. He poured more water into the basin, the coolness refreshing as he splashed it onto his face and torso. He dipped a hand towel into the water and began to work the grime of the day away.

    As he worked, he glanced back into the room. Rikka had stripped bare. She was standing there, in her true form. Once more, Alaric marveled at the astounding beauty of her elven form, the statuesque look about her. She was a goddess of love incarnate. Just the sight of her sometimes stole his breath, and this was one of those times. He felt a deep stirring of desire. She looked up and caught his look. A small knowing smile spread across her face. ¡°Later.¡±

    ¡°Is that a promise?¡±

    ¡°It is most definitely a promise.¡±

 Chapter 14

    Alaric climbed into the bed, feeling the weariness of the day¡¯s events settle heavily upon him as he lay his head down upon the pillow. Rikka was already there, waiting. The late hour was evident in the stillness of the castle, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl and the soft rustling of the wind outside the windows.

    After dinner, Alaric had spent the evening with Ulden, drinking and talking the night away. But now, he felt the toll of fatigue from the day¡¯s march, and the drink weighing upon him. While he¡¯d spent time with Ulden, Rikka had gone somewhere private and whiled away the hours with Sissa talking magic.

    A lamp on the table beside the bed cast a soft, flickering glow across the room, along with the small fire crackling in the hearth, the light barely reaching the corners. Shadows danced on the stone walls and ceiling, creating an intimate and almost enchanted atmosphere.

    Alaric found immense satisfaction in the comfort of the bed. Resting her head upon her pillow and tucked under the sheets against the chill of night, Rikka looked over at him, her eyes deep wells of emotion, reflecting the soft light of the lantern and fire. She did not speak, but her gaze conveyed a world of unspoken thoughts and feelings. The silence between them was filled with a deep understanding and connection, one they had forged over the last two years.

    Alaric took her hand, finding solace in her touch. The warmth of her skin against his own was a reminder of the life they were building together, even amidst the uncertainties and challenges that lay ahead. At the same time, he read something in her gaze.

    Was it worry?

    ¡°What?¡± Alaric asked, his voice breaking the gentle stillness of the room.

    ¡°Nothing,¡± Rikka replied, her voice soft.

    ¡°We have been together for two years now. Even though you are of another race, I am coming to understand you, at least I think I am. You are worried¡ªabout something.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± she admitted, her gaze not wavering. She bit the bottom of her lip but said no more.

    Alaric¡¯s tone was gentle but insistent. ¡°Then tell me. Get it off your chest.¡±

    ¡°I am not sure I should.¡±

    ¡°I want to hear it.¡±

    ¡°It is concerning prophecy.¡± Her words carried a weight that made the air between them seem heavier.

    Like a cold wind creeping into a warm room, an unease stirred within Alaric. The good cheer of the evening began to rapidly evaporate. He did not much like the thought of prophecy, the possibility his actions and decisions were not his own, that things were predetermined. Back in his library, there was even a copy of the prophecy she spoke on. Though she had encouraged him to do so on more than one occasion, Alaric refused to read it, to even touch the scroll.

    ¡°I chart my own way forward.¡±

    ¡°I know. You have told me that before.¡±

    ¡°What about it, then?¡± he asked, trying to keep his voice steady. ¡°What about the prophecy has you worried and concerned?¡±

    ¡°The Ordinate will return,¡± Rikka said, her voice barely above a whisper, yet each word seemed to echo in the quiet room. ¡°On that, I am certain.¡±

    The unease within Alaric grew, coiling like a serpent in his chest. ¡°I am not the one for that,¡± he said, his tone firm yet tinged with doubt.

    ¡°That may be true,¡± Rikka admitted, her eyes flickering with a complex mix of emotions. ¡°I refused to see before, but now¡­ I am worried about how the Ordinate will return.¡±

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Alaric asked, a wave of confusion washing over him.

    ¡°I have been thinking on it some, since we talked. I have reread the prophecy, studied it closer, trying to divine meaning between the lines. Just as there are more luminas, there may be, as you suggested, more than one heir capable of restoring the empire. To say the prophecy is a confusing mess is an understatement. I have studied it more than most, drawn what I could. It is as if a madman wrote it. I concede there are passages that could be interpreted to mean there are other heirs, true successors like yourself.¡±

    ¡°That might not be such a bad thing.¡±

    ¡°I disagree,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°Why?¡±

    ¡°There can only be one.¡±

    ¡°Only one?¡±

    ¡°At least,¡± Rikka breathed, ¡°in the end, there can be only one left standing.¡±

    Alaric sucked in a breath at that, held it, and then let it out through his nose. ¡°So, if there is another, I must kill him, or he me? Is that it? Is that what you are telling me?¡±

    ¡°Guided by Eldanar, I work on one side of the prophecy,¡± Rikka continued, her voice steady but reflective. ¡°The more I consider, there may be others who are working toward it as well, their vision of what the Second Ordinate should look like.¡±

    Alaric did not much like the sound of that.

    ¡°The assassination attempt,¡± Rikka said. ¡°The motivation may not be simple revenge, Sunara attempting to pay you back. There may be factions we are unaware of, each with their own ¡®chosen one,¡¯ their anointed champion, each believing they hold the true key and understanding to the prophecy, to unlocking the Second Restoration and their version of it.¡±

    ¡°The Black Hand,¡± Alaric breathed. The realization settled heavy and unmovable. The quiet room, with its dim lantern light, the crackling fire, and the soft sounds of the night outside the window, seemed to press in on him, that heavy weight resting on his chest.

    ¡°Should another claim and take the throne,¡± Rikka said, ¡°you would still be a threat to all they represent, all they hope to ultimately achieve. Worse, you may overturn all that they have done to reach the top of the hill. That is how they will see it and there is no arguing with potential. That is why they must hunt you down, kill you, or you them first.¡±

    The room seemed to grow colder despite the warmth of the lantern¡¯s light and the low-burning fire. Alaric¡¯s mind raced, considering the dangers they might now face.

    ¡°So, even if I have no desire for the throne, I am still a target, a threat, someone to be eliminated,¡± he said, more to himself than to her.

    ¡°I think so, yes.¡± Rikka placed a hand on his arm, her touch a grounding force. ¡°We must be cautious, Alaric, for if I am correct, there will be more attempts on your life.¡±

    Feeling terrible dissatisfaction, Alaric let go a hot breath. ¡°This has become a damned if I do or damned if I don¡¯t sort of thing.¡±

    She gave a nod.

    ¡°I did not ask for this.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t want it.¡±

    ¡°That is why you are the one,¡± Rikka said. ¡°That is why you are the one to fulfill the prophecy, to restore the empire.¡±

    ¡°Because I don¡¯t want it?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± she breathed.

    Alaric shook his head slightly and considered her. ¡°You are not certain about this, there being another heir, are you?¡±

    ¡°No, I can¡¯t be certain.¡± She closed her eyes for a long moment. When she opened them, he read uncertainty. ¡°I just don¡¯t know. But it is possible.¡±

    Alaric felt himself scowl as he thought on her words. ¡°Then we deal with what we are faced with, not what we don¡¯t know. This is all speculation. Right now, what we do know is there is only one heir, me. That is all we are certain about. Whatever comes, we will face it head-on. We cross one bridge at a time, understand?¡±

    With her head still on the pillow and her incredibly deep eyes locked upon him, she gave a nod.

    ¡°Before us, we have a war. That is what is important at the moment. We get past that and worry about everything else after.¡±

    Rikka¡¯s eyes softened, a small smile touching her lips. ¡°All right.¡±

    ¡°You mean everything to me,¡± Alaric said and reached out under the blankets and sheets to touch her belly, which had barely begun to swell. ¡°The child as well.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Rikka said, her almond-shaped eyes quite deep as she stared back at him.

    ¡°To protect you both, I may be forced to raise the Set¡¯Tangenica standard,¡± Alaric said, his tone hardening. ¡°Though I very much don¡¯t want to, I will do it, if need be.¡±

    ¡°I know that as well,¡± Rikka breathed again, ¡°and in my heart, I believe you will raise it.¡±

    ¡°There are those who will fight against a restoration,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°There will always be those who resist change, especially one as significant as the return of the Ordinate¡ªkings and queens, those who have everything to lose. Even leaders of certain holy orders who worship our god, or profess to, will rail against what is destined to be.¡±

    Alaric understood the truth in her words. Despite not believing in destiny, he felt like he was being driven toward raising that cursed banner. It seemed there was no way to stop it.

    ¡°I am screwed.¡± Alaric shook his head, thinking about the firestorm he would unleash were he to raise that banner. ¡°Either way, I am screwed.¡±

    ¡°There is a positive side of things,¡± Rikka said, her voice taking on a lighter, teasing tone.

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Alaric asked, for he could not think of one.

    ¡°You have me.¡± Rikka lowered her chin slightly, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ¡°And if you wish, you can screw me right now. There is no need to worry about other bridges to cross first.¡±

    Alaric gave a grunt, a half-laugh escaping his lips. He was still feeling the effects of the drink he¡¯d shared with Ulden. Thoughts of the Ordinate began to fade into the background. Under the blanket, he scooted up next to her, drawn by the warmth of her presence and the promise in her eyes. He cupped her face gently with a hand, bringing his forward. Their lips met, and Alaric suddenly found himself lost in her soft touch, the taste of her kiss washing away the worries of the prophecy.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

    She kissed him back with a fierce and hungry passion, her hand moving downward with deliberate intent and into his pants. She found his manhood and gave him a stroke, and Alaric felt a powerful surge of desire flood through him, erasing all other thoughts. The world outside their small room¡ªthe headaches of the restoration, the worries of war¡ªall ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them in their shared intimacy. Feeling a powerful stab of passion, Alaric kissed her harder, his tongue probing and his breath quickening as his hands roamed over her naked body, feeling the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips.

    A shout came from outside.

    He pulled back from Rikka and looked up, his senses sharpening despite the drink. There was a replying shout, then another from outside the window. The urgency in the voices was unmistakable. The windows were partially open, allowing the sound to drift in from outside. Alaric found himself scowling. He sat up in bed.

    ¡°What?¡± Rikka asked, her voice tinged with concern. ¡°What is wrong?¡±

    ¡°Something is happening. I thought I heard someone calling for the gate to be opened,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°It is well past midnight.¡±

    ¡°I know.¡± Alaric blew out an unhappy breath and rolled off the bed, landing lightly on his feet. He padded over to the window and threw the shutters open. The cool night air rushed in, bringing with it the sounds of commotion from the courtyard below.

    Alaric looked out and down into the courtyard. Several figures were rushing toward the gate, their movements hurried and purposeful. One held a lantern, its light bobbing as the man jogged, casting shifting shadows across the stone paving. It was clear that the guard had been called out and the gate was being prepared to be opened.

    ¡°Something¡¯s definitely happening,¡± Alaric muttered, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make out more details. The moon was hidden by thick cloud cover, limiting the available light.

    Alaric turned away and made his way to the door. He opened it and found Ezran, back against the wall, sitting directly across the way on a stool. Positioned strategically around the corridor were four of Alaric¡¯s guards. They looked bored but straightened, clearly surprised as the door opened and Alaric stepped out into the corridor. Immediately alert, Ezran came to his feet.

    ¡°The gate is being opened,¡± Alaric informed Ezran. ¡°Find out what is going on.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Ezran said, moving for the stairs.

    Alaric closed the door, allowing the latch to fall into place with a heavy click. He turned back to look at Rikka. She was sitting up in bed, the blanket clutched tightly around her. He rubbed his jaw, feeling a sense of foreboding. Something was afoot, and in his gut, he knew it wasn¡¯t good. Alaric crossed the room and grabbed his tunic, pulling it over his head. His boots were next. He moved over to the bed, where he sat to put them on.

    On her knees in the bed, Rikka moved over and placed her arm on his shoulder. ¡°Are you certain something is wrong?¡±

    Alaric looked over his shoulder at her as he slipped his feet into his boots. Outside, he could hear more shouts and the gate beginning to grind open, the old hinges screeching in protest. ¡°There is seldom any good news so late.¡±

    As he started lacing up his boots, Rikka stepped out of bed and pulled on a dress that had been neatly laid across a side table, covering her nakedness. There was a shimmering around her, and in moments, she looked thoroughly human. Once his boots were tied, Alaric stood again. There was a hard rapping knock on the door.

    ¡°Enter,¡± Alaric called out.

    The door opened, revealing Ezran standing in the doorway. ¡°A messenger has arrived. He¡¯s come directly from Duncan, along with an escort of ten mounted men. They are opening the gate and will lower the drawbridge in moments to allow the messenger in.¡±

    ¡°Definitely not good news, then,¡± Alaric said, his brow furrowing. ¡°I will meet him down in the great hall.¡±

    Ezran left, his boots thudding on the stone as he departed. In the corner lay Oathbreaker. Alaric considered arming himself, then disregarded the idea. He looked over at Rikka. She was dressed and ready.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±

    She nodded and moved toward the door with him. Even though she wore her magical disguise, Alaric found himself marveling at her beauty. In an odd way, he was in love with two women, one human and one elven. His thoughts slid back to Sissa, and he impulsively grabbed Rikka¡¯s arm, arresting her movement.

    Raising an eyebrow, Rikka shifted her gaze to him in question.

    ¡°I would gladly make you my wife,¡± Alaric said, his voice filled with sincerity and longing. ¡°In fact, I very much want to.¡±

    ¡°I know it,¡± Rikka replied softly, her expression tender yet resolute. He saw the hurt again, the pain. It ran deep, and he understood, with time, it would only grow deeper. ¡°But that is not meant to be. It is not the path I¡ªwe walk, nor Eldanar¡¯s desire.¡±

    Alaric felt a pang in his chest that was almost physical, but he nodded, understanding the complexities of their situation. He released her arm. She started for the door, and he followed.

    Out in the hallway, Alaric could hear voices echoing throughout the keep. They made their way to the stairs and descended quickly, Alaric¡¯s guard following. They soon found themselves in the great hall, where the atmosphere was tense with anticipation.

    Dressed only in a tunic and barefoot, Ulden was there, his expression serious. Beside him stood his mother, wearing a nightgown with her hair slightly disheveled. The worry in Sissa¡¯s eyes was palpable. A couple of servants stood off to the side, along with a guard.

    Before anyone could speak, the door opened, and in strode Ezran, leading another man who was dusty and looked weary from the road. Alaric recognized him as one of Duncan¡¯s men-at-arms. The man moved up to Alaric and saluted smartly.

    ¡°Gentius, right?¡± Alaric asked, recalling his name. ¡°I sent you on ahead to the king to report we were marching.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord, you did,¡± Gentius responded, sounding terribly exhausted. ¡°I reached the king and hurried back, wasting no time.¡±

    ¡°What news have you brought?¡± Alaric braced himself for the worst.

    ¡°There¡¯s been a battle, my lord,¡± Gentius responded, his voice heavy with fatigue. ¡°The king¡¯s army has lost and fled the field. They are falling back on Cret¡¯s Crossing on the River Sken with the intention to rally at that point.¡±

    There was a gasp from Sissa, her hand flying to her mouth. Alaric¡¯s mind raced, trying to place Cret¡¯s Crossing.

    ¡°The king orders you to march to the crossing forthwith,¡± Gentius continued, ¡°for there is sure to be another fight soon enough. The king was reinforced after the battle by the Duke of Sansett, who brought more than five thousand men.¡±

    ¡°At least we are not the only ones late to the party,¡± Ezran muttered under his breath.

    Alaric could not help but agree. Turning his attention back to the immediate problem, he asked, ¡°How far is it to Cret¡¯s Crossing?¡±

    ¡°By foot¡ªat least a week¡¯s travel, my lord.¡± From his belt, Gentius pulled a scroll, tightly bound with a blue ribbon. He handed it over to Alaric, who quickly untied it and spread it out on the nearest table. It was a map. Alaric leaned over the map as Ulden stepped closer to get a better look.

    It was a crudely drawn camp copy, but Alaric easily recognized the earldoms that bordered Averndale. Next to Kanar was the Earl of Urburn¡¯s lands. On the map, Cret¡¯s Crossing was circled and labeled the Sken. The east-west road to the capital crossed the river at this point. He had traveled this road a couple of times before and vaguely recalled the crossing. There was no bridge and there had not been one for several years. The old one washed away when the river had flooded.

    Alaric traced the road that had been scrawled upon the map, wondering on the terrain and potential challenges of a hard march. The map was seriously lacking in details, and he found that frustrating.

    ¡°Where was the battle?¡± Alaric looked up at Gentius, seeking more precise information.

    ¡°More than fifty miles from Cret¡¯s Crossing,¡± Gentius replied, stepping up to the table. He touched a spot on the map, indicating a point just over the border inside Kevahn. ¡°About right here, my lord.¡±

    That information gave Alaric a better sense of scale. He traced a direct line from the battle site to the new rally point at the crossing. That line came dangerously close to the road his army would be marching on. When the enemy advanced¡ªand they would¡ªif they discovered his army, they could potentially turn upon him with a superior force.

    Ulden leaned forward and broke the contemplative silence. ¡°If you are concerned about coming too close to the enemy¡¯s line of march¡±¡ªhis finger touched a point farther south¡ª¡°there are back roads through Urburn, remote and poorly made. These are mostly forest paths. You could take to them, march around, and with some good fortune, keep away from the enemy.¡±

    ¡°We may have to do that,¡± Alaric admitted as he rubbed his jaw. His frustration grew, for that would increase the time it took to reach his king. He looked over at Ulden. ¡°Do you have detailed maps of these routes?¡±

    ¡°We do,¡± Ulden confirmed. ¡°Before the border was adjusted by the king, those were our lands, our roads.¡±

    ¡°I will need to study them thoroughly,¡± Alaric decided, his gaze lingering on the map before turning to Gentius. ¡°How bad was the battle? Do you know the specifics?¡±

    Gentius shifted uncomfortably, the weight of the news evident in his demeanor. ¡°I did not get the full story, my lord, for the army was on the move, marching, but from what I gathered, it wasn¡¯t good. The king¡¯s army was surprised by the enemy and lost about two thousand men before being forced to withdraw from the field. He may have lost more. I just don¡¯t know.¡± He paused, clearly collecting his thoughts. ¡°What I heard was that Duke Laval led in the king¡¯s stead.¡±

    ¡°Roderick was not on the field?¡± Ulden asked with no little amount of surprise.

    ¡°He was not, my lord. Apparently, some of the men panicked, the levies¡ªchaos ensued, and the battle line began to collapse under the pressure from the enemy. Soon after, the army broke.¡±

    Alaric absorbed the grim details with a furrowed brow. He rubbed at his jaw again. That the king wasn¡¯t on the field of battle was concerning. Where had he been? That Roderick was pulling his army back fifty miles was also concerning. That meant he did not feel he could contest Thorold¡¯s army in the short-term. He was moving to a defensible position, one the enemy would need to assault and overcome.

    ¡°There are nearly seven thousand men heading for Cret¡¯s Crossing,¡± Gentius continued. ¡°I was told it is a strategic ford, shallow enough to wade across. The king feels he can fortify and hold the position against the enemy, force them ultimately back.¡±

    ¡°Did you see this crossing?¡± Alaric asked curiously. He could not remember the region around it, the lay of the land. That could become important.

    Gentius shook his head. ¡°No, my lord. I caught up to the king¡¯s army as they were falling back toward the ford.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s nod was measured, his mind racing with the implications of the information shared. He harbored no enthusiasm for serving under Duke Laval¡¯s command, yet he clung to a sliver of hope that the recent defeat might prompt the king to appoint a new military commander, someone more capable of leading. Alaric¡¯s primary concern, however, remained, making his way to the rally point and joining up with the army.

    As Alaric mulled over these strategic concerns, Sissa stepped forward. Her voice carried a tremor of fear and naked worry. ¡°Do you know of Lord Braekor?¡± she asked Gentius. ¡°Have you heard word of my husband? Did he survive the battle?¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lady,¡± Gentius responded with a reassuring firmness, his voice cutting through the tension in the room. ¡°He lives and is uninjured. He was riding with the king at the time when I saw him.¡±

    Sissa exhaled deeply, her relief almost a physical thing. She seemed to deflate, her shoulders dropping as the burden of uncertainty lifted. Her eyes softened, even as they filled with tears, gratitude mingling with her lingering concern as she looked at Gentius, silently thanking him for this sliver of peace of mind.

    ¡°When did this battle take place?¡± Alaric asked, his voice steady, eyes fixed on Gentius as he sought to piece together the timeline of events.

    ¡°Three days ago, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Has the enemy begun moving yet?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°Has Thorold begun his pursuit?¡±

    ¡°To my knowledge, no, my lord,¡± Gentius answered, his expression somber yet resolute. ¡°But, by now, they could have¡­¡±

    Alaric nodded, his reaction tinged with neither surprise nor relief. From his experience, he knew that after a battle, even the victor frequently needed time to regroup. The demands of consolidating gains, tending to the wounded, taking stock of loot, dealing with prisoners, and allowing the troops time to recuperate were critical before any pursuit could be mounted. Not all enemy commanders were aggressive enough to immediately capitalize on their victories, to chase and hound the enemy relentlessly. This was a lesson Alaric learned well during his days in the Crusade¡ªpatience and inaction often shaped the outcomes of war as much as boldness, not to mention incompetence.

    ¡°Also, my lord,¡± Gentius added with a grave tone, ¡°the enemy has razed and looted much of Urburn¡¯s lands. They have mounted raiders out and about. A group of them almost got me on my way back to you. I just barely managed to elude them.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s expression darkened at the news. The proximity of the border made the situation all the more perilous. Kanar bordered Urburn. That meant raiders could be inside Kanar as well. The march north was about to get much riskier. Alaric thought a moment more. Turning to Ezran, he commanded, ¡°Ready the horses and men. We will be leaving as soon as we are ready.¡±

    Sissa interjected, her concern evident in her voice, ¡°Surely it would be better to get some rest and leave in the morning, when it is light.¡±

    ¡°With the enemy so near, I need to get back to my men, to be there in the event I am needed,¡± Alaric responded firmly. He glanced at Ezran, who had hesitated. ¡°The horses and men¡ªget them ready, now.¡±

    Ezran nodded, turning on his heel and swiftly exiting the great hall to carry out his orders.

    Alaric then turned back to Gentius, his gaze intense. ¡°Is there anything else?¡± he asked, ready to absorb any further intelligence that might influence his immediate actions.

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Gentius confirmed. ¡°I was instructed by the king¡ªpersonally¡ªto tell you to come with all possible haste.¡±

    ¡°Mekena,¡± Sissa said, turning to one of the servants. She gestured at Gentius. ¡°Take this man to the kitchen. See that he is fed then given a place to rest.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lady,¡± Mekena said and led the man away.

    ¡°I will begin packing our things,¡± Rikka said and turned for the stairs, rapidly moving up them.

    Alaric looked over at Ulden. It was time to get down to business. ¡°I have a strong feeling my army will need to use those back roads. In fact, I mean to use them. If possible, I will do all I can to slip around the enemy without them knowing.¡±

    ¡°That won¡¯t be easy,¡± Ulden said, ¡°especially if there are raiders out and about in Urburn. They will be Thorold¡¯s eyes and ears.¡±

    ¡°I know it,¡± Alaric said and glanced down at the map again. He looked back up at Ulden. ¡°I would see those maps now and take any you don¡¯t mind parting with.¡±

 Chapter 15

    Alaric stifled a powerful yawn. He was drop-dead tired. Around him, his army was hard at work constructing the nightly fortified camp. The rhythmic sound of shovels mingled with the steady thuds of axes biting into wood as the forest was being cut back. The sun had already begun to set, working its way toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the budding camp.

    Having traveled through the night to reach the army and then marched the entire following day, they had reached and crossed the border of Kanar and Urburn. Knowing the enemy was active nearby, Alaric was leaving nothing to chance. He could not afford to. Each evening, they would construct a fortified encampment, one with significant defenses designed to discourage a surprise assault, a wall, complete with a barricade and fighting platform, all surrounded by an outer trench filled with sharpened wooden stakes.

    As he gazed around at the rapidly developing camp, his attention was involuntarily pulled toward Duncan, who was engaged in what appeared to be a serious discussion with Jaxen about a hundred yards away. From his position, Alaric could not catch their words, but the distance did little to mask the intensity of the exchange.

    Alaric¡¯s brow furrowed into a scowl as he observed Duncan¡¯s animated gestures, his hand pointing emphatically toward a group of men nearby and then touching the side of his temple as if to communicate to his son ¡°to think.¡±

    Alaric supposed these were Jaxen¡¯s troops that Duncan was indicating, digging into the ground, doing their part to help build the camp¡¯s defensive trench and berm. The soldiers, coated in dust from the road, dirt, and sweat from their toil, were clearly doing their best to ignore the exchange as they worked.

    Alaric¡¯s scowl deepened. It was clear from Jaxen¡¯s rigid posture and the tight set of his shoulders he was not pleased with whatever Duncan was communicating. The scene hinted at a clash of strategies, a valid critique not well received, or more likely, Alaric thought, a displeased father who had unreasonable expectations of his son. Alaric had personal experience with that.

    The conversation seemed to reach its climax as Jourgan and Keever arrived, joining Duncan and Jaxen. Their arrival did little to defuse the situation. After a brief, intense exchange between father and son, Jaxen responded with a sharp, heated retort and abruptly strode away from the group toward his men and the work they were doing, leaving Duncan shaking his head.

    Alaric watched as Jaxen stalked off, his mind racing with the potential implications of the dispute. Was it a simple disagreement? Or was it symptomatic of a deeper issue within the ranks, one he¡¯d have to get personally involved in? The cohesion of his commanders was crucial to success. He could not allow division.

    ¡°Tea?¡±

    Alaric turned and found Rikka offering him a steaming mug. With a nod of appreciation, he accepted it. The aroma of the black tea wafted up, and with his first sip, he felt a wave of rejuvenation wash over him. It was not only tasty, but surprisingly refreshing, and especially welcome, as the setting sun brought with it an unseasonal chill that had begun to sweep through the camp, likely bringing in the cooler air from the surrounding forest.

    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, taking another sip and savoring it for a long moment. ¡°You make some of the best tea I have ever had. I swear, it¡¯s almost as if you are using your magic.¡±

    ¡°How do you know I¡¯m not?¡± Rikka smirked at him and returned to the campfire they shared, where a pot hung over the low-burning and dancing flames. Picking up a ladle, she gave the contents a stir. Smoke from the fire curled and swirled up into the evening sky, merging with the twilight. Their tent had been erected just to the side of the fire and it was beckoning powerfully to Alaric, calling to him for some sleep.

    ¡°Either way, I love it.¡± Alaric waved the mug a little, sloshing around the contents a bit but being careful not to spill any.

    Rikka cast a brief glance his way, acknowledging his thanks with a simple nod. They were both worn and beat after the hard ride.

    ¡°My lord, am I interrupting?¡±

    Alaric turned to find Duncan standing at the edge of his campsite, delineated more by mutual respect than any physical barrier, though Ezran and Kiera blocked the man¡¯s path forward. Flanking him were Keever and Jourgan. Their presence, usually a prelude to matters of strategy or importance, prompted Alaric to straighten slightly. Their expressions were serious, grave even.

    ¡°No, you are not interrupting,¡± Alaric responded as he took another sip of the tea. ¡°Come forward.¡±

    Ezran and Kiera stood aside, and they moved closer and up to the campfire. All three men were dusty from the day¡¯s march. They also looked weary but not as spent as Alaric felt.

    ¡°My lady.¡± Duncan bowed respectfully to Rikka. Jourgan and Keever did the same.

    ¡°How can I help you gentlemen?¡± Alaric asked, looking to move things along.

    ¡°We have been reviewing the new maps, my lord, the ones provided by Lord Ulden,¡± Duncan began. ¡°We believe it prudent to deploy additional scouts into the field.¡±

    ¡°That is what we are all recommending,¡± Keever said, glancing at the other two men.

    ¡°We already have at least fifty scouts out in the field,¡± Alaric remarked, his hand holding the mug sweeping toward the forest. ¡°They¡¯re watching the perimeter several hundred yards out. Isn¡¯t that screen substantial enough for our current needs?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s not the perimeter we¡¯re concerned about, my lord,¡± Jourgan interjected. ¡°We¡¯re suggesting that it might be wise to send additional men out beyond our current screen, to actively hunt for the enemy.¡±

    ¡°If we can find them before they find us,¡± Keever added, ¡°it could help us avoid detection.¡±

    ¡°How far out are you suggesting?¡± Alaric asked, voice tinged with both curiosity and caution as he considered their suggestion.

    ¡°Five to ten miles,¡± Keever replied, his eyes meeting Alaric¡¯s with a steady gaze, ¡°maybe a little farther if they find evidence of the enemy nearby.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Alaric murmured, stroking his chin thoughtfully and feeling the stubble on his palm as he weighed the merits of the proposal. He took another sip of tea. It was a calculated risk, though one that could potentially yield rewards. ¡°You¡¯re also looking for opportunities to strike at the enemy. Is that it?¡±

    ¡°Exactly, my lord,¡± Keever confirmed. ¡°Small groups of them, at least. We¡¯re aware the enemy has bands roaming throughout Urburn. We¡¯ve all seen what they¡¯ve done. If they present themselves, consider these targets of opportunity.¡±

    On the march from Kanar into Urburn, they had passed several farms that had been razed, the people who¡¯d lived there murdered in cold blood. The image of the last farm was still fresh in Alaric¡¯s mind. The enemy had killed the family that lived there, even the children. Before they had been allowed to die, they¡¯d tortured them. That much had been clear, for the bodies had been mutilated.

    Alaric had not much enjoyed what he¡¯d seen. It spoke of an unnecessary cruelty. The enemy had also taken everything they could that was not nailed down¡ªanimals, food¡ªthen burned the house and barn to the ground, leaving only the ashes and dead behind.

    ¡°In addition to that,¡± Duncan interjected, his tone indicating the strategic importance of their next point, ¡°our long-range scouts could possibly encounter the enemy¡¯s main body or stumble upon a significant force, giving us early warning or possibly a tactical advantage should you wish to act upon the intelligence.¡±

    ¡°I would expect Thorold¡¯s army to be much farther north, possibly moving along the King¡¯s Way. It is the direct route to Cret¡¯s Crossing.¡± Alaric¡¯s mind raced through various scenarios. ¡°How many men are we talking about? On horseback or afoot? I want to remind you our mounted contingent is quite small.¡±

    Keever responded, ¡°No more than fifty, my lord, and a mix of both, mostly those afoot, though. The mounted contingent can act as messengers, getting word to us more rapidly should these scouts discover something worthy of reporting.¡± He paused for emphasis. ¡°We also have several gifted¡ªah, think of them as rogues, former poachers amongst our men-at-arms that each of us took pity upon and brought into our service for one reason or another. They possess the skills to move across the forest and land without drawing attention.¡±This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

    ¡°Are you also talking about using any of Jasper¡¯s boys?¡± Alaric valued the expertise of Jasper¡¯s rangers, who were currently tasked with monitoring the immediate vicinity around the camp and along the army¡¯s line of march while it was in motion.

    Their skills were so crucial, he was reluctant to redeploy any of them for the extended scouting mission his bannermen were proposing. Yet to send out fifty men on this venture seemed a manageable risk, especially if his bannermen were in agreement, and they certainly appeared to be; otherwise, they would not have approached him with this matter.

    ¡°No,¡± Keever said. ¡°Just as they are currently, the rangers will remain watching the camp.¡±

    ¡°All right,¡± Alaric decided, his voice firm, ¡°do it. Make it happen.¡±

    He noticed the slight easing of tension amongst the three men, a relaxing of their postures. It was clear they anticipated a possible refusal or even an argument. In truth, Alaric was too tired to argue the point. It was easier to give in. Besides, the proposal made sense to him, and that was enough to sway his mind on the matter.

    ¡°Thank you, my lord,¡± Keever responded with a respectful nod. ¡°The scouts will go out within the hour.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± Alaric acknowledged. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°Just an update on the camp. We should have the wall and outer trench completed within the hour,¡± Duncan reported. ¡°I¡¯ve left orders for a standing watch of one hundred men to be placed, rotated every four hours.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± Alaric said as he ran his gaze around the camp, which was quite large, noting the dirt wall that was growing with every passing moment. The communal tents were being raised too. He turned back to Duncan. ¡°How deep will the trench be?¡±

    ¡°As discussed, twelve feet, my lord,¡± Duncan said.

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Alaric said, well pleased. His mind shifted to supply. The wagons were still arriving, as was the tail of his column of march. They were being driven into the camp toward where a good-sized park had been set up, right next to where all the mules and horses were picketed. ¡°Remember, we must watch the rations. Communicate that down through the ranks. I don¡¯t want overeating, for there¡¯s a good chance little will be available in Urburn. The enemy seem to be picking it clean.¡±

    ¡°I already have standing orders in place, but I will see that reinforced, my lord,¡± Duncan said. ¡°Concerning water, we are refilling the barrels from a nearby stream where the water seems fresh enough. The men will also top off their canteens and bathe after the wall is completed.¡±

    Alaric nodded. ¡°I want to march at dawn, as soon as it¡¯s light enough to see.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Duncan said. ¡°I will come later with a proposed line of march and figures on our strength totals. The clerks will have that after the last of the column arrives.¡±

    ¡°Bring those reports to me in the morning.¡± Alaric suppressed another yawn. ¡°Is there anything else? As you can imagine, I am tired and thinking of turning in early for the night.¡±

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Duncan replied. ¡°I will have the reports ready when you are ready, come morning. We will leave you in peace.¡±

    The three bannermen turned and started to leave.

    After a moment¡¯s thought, Alaric called, ¡°Duncan, please remain but a moment. I would speak with you on a personal matter.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord.¡± Duncan halted his retreat and returned to the fire. The other two bannermen glanced at him curiously, then moved off.

    Alaric waited.

    ¡°What is this about, my lord?¡±

    ¡°Jaxen,¡± Alaric said once the others were well out of earshot.

    ¡°What about my son?¡± Duncan¡¯s response was tinged with a protective edge, his posture tensing. Then his shoulders slumped slightly. He gave a nod of understanding. ¡°You saw that a few moments ago?¡± Alaric¡¯s bannerman glanced in the direction his son had gone.

    ¡°I did. Care to tell me what that was about?¡±

    ¡°It was a small matter, my lord, nothing of great significance. I would not trouble you with it.¡±

    Alaric had suspected as much. ¡°It seemed you were berating him before his men. That cannot happen. Doing so will undermine his authority and I will not¡ªcannot have that.¡±

    ¡°I am sorry, my lord. I should have been more discreet in the criticism of my son. It will not happen again.¡±

    ¡°Yes, you should have been more discreet.¡±

    ¡°I know it,¡± Duncan growled.

    ¡°He is one of my company commanders,¡± Alaric stated plainly, acknowledging Jaxen¡¯s role and responsibilities. ¡°Duncan, I would not have placed him in the position he¡¯s in just because you¡¯re my bannerman. He has been trained and I trust him to do the job he¡¯s been assigned. He¡¯s earned that. Understand me so far?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord. I do.¡±

    ¡°And you are my second in command. Like the rest of my officers, he has a job to do. He can¡¯t be looking over his shoulder at his father, questioning his own decisions. He must be free to do as he thinks best, or when we need him to, he won¡¯t act at all. He will be frozen in fear.¡±

    ¡°Fear?¡± Duncan seemed confused.

    ¡°Fear he will make a mistake and that you will disapprove. During a fight, any action is better than indecisiveness, inaction.¡±

    Duncan¡¯s gaze dropped to the ground as he wrestled with his emotions. He looked back up and met Alaric¡¯s gaze. ¡°I must let him go. Is that what you are saying?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Alaric agreed, his voice firm yet empathetic. ¡°He must be allowed the freedom to command his men without the burden of thinking his father might second-guess his decisions. I expect him to excel when given the opportunity. If there is any correction to be given or disciplining to be done, based upon his duties as one of my company commanders, that falls upon me, not you.¡±

    ¡°But I am your second. How can I lead, do the job you¡¯ve given me, if I cannot pass along orders?¡±

    ¡°If you can treat him as you do the other company commanders, then fine, you can order him around when needed,¡± Alaric said. ¡°If you can¡¯t do that, he reports directly to me.¡±

    ¡°He is my son,¡± Duncan said, the words heavy with paternal concern. ¡°It is hard¡ªdifficult to let go.¡±

    ¡°I know it. But if he is to become the man and leader he is meant to be, one you will be proud of, it has to be this way. He must be given the freedom to command his own men, without worry his father might think there is a better way for things to be done¡ªlike digging a simple trench.¡±

    Duncan glanced at his feet again. He gave a nod but did not say anything.

    ¡°Understand my position on this matter?¡± Alaric pressed. ¡°It is unbending.¡±

    There was a long moment of hesitation, then Duncan gave another slow nod as he met Alaric¡¯s gaze once more. ¡°Very well, my lord. I shall do my best to let him be and not question his decisions, nor try to run his company for him.¡± Duncan fell silent for several heartbeats, his jaw flexing. ¡°You are correct. He needs to be his own man and I am standing in the way of that. Thank you for pointing this out to me. Is there anything else, my lord?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric said. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±

    ¡°I will get back to seeing the camp set up properly, my lord,¡± Duncan said. He offered a respectful nod to Rikka, then turned and walked away.

    Feeling mixed emotions, Alaric watched him go. Like his other bannermen, Duncan was a hard man. Was he capable of leaving his son be? Only time would tell.

    ¡°It was the right thing to do,¡± Rikka remarked after Duncan moved out of hearing distance. Her voice was low but carried a certain assurance.

    ¡°I know it,¡± Alaric responded, ¡°and I should have anticipated it might become an issue.¡±

    Rikka gave a nod of weary agreement as she sat down on a log by the fire, her eyes reflecting the flames¡¯ dance. She held out her hands for warmth. Alaric took another sip from his mug, the tea comforting, yet insufficient in its fight against the pull of fatigue weighing heavily upon him. He yawned deeply. The exhaustion had seeped into his bones. Their tent loomed invitingly nearby, its fabric rustling softly as the evening breeze gusted. By the gods, he needed some sleep.

    ¡°I am going to get some rest.¡± With that, he moved toward the tent and stopped, his hand on the flap, the canvas cool and rough under his fingers as he glanced back at Rikka. She had not responded, but sat unmoving, her gaze now fixed intensely on the flickering flames of the campfire. It seemed as if she were lost in another world, her eyes seeing beyond the ordinary blaze. The sudden warmth of the ring on his finger at the sight of her frozen stirred a deep unease within him. Something wasn¡¯t quite right. Alaric straightened, his concern growing.

    ¡°Are you¡ªall right?¡± he asked her.

    Rikka did not respond, her trance unbroken.

    ¡°Rikka, are you okay?¡± Alaric pressed, a note of urgency creeping into his tone. ¡°Is something bothering you?¡±

    Startled, as if snapped from a deep reverie, Rikka shook her head slightly and blinked several times. She looked over at him, her expression one of confusion, as if she did not immediately recognize him. Then the bewilderment, the cloud in her gaze, cleared. She took a deep breath and shuddered. ¡°What? What did you say?¡±

    ¡°I asked if you were okay,¡± Alaric repeated, his worry evident. ¡°Perhaps you should get some rest as well, join me. It¡¯s been a long and trying day.¡±

    ¡°I am fine,¡± she replied, her voice weary yet firm. ¡°Go ahead. I will be there shortly.¡±

    Alaric hesitated, observing her closely. Despite her assurances, she seemed anything but fine. In fact, she appeared as if something profound had just occurred. The ring on his finger grew even warmer. The night was coming on. The sky had darkened considerably in the last half hour. The shadows cast by the fire danced across her face, highlighting a troubled expression that he knew all too well.

    Worry.

    ¡°Rikka¡ª¡±

    ¡°Really,¡± Rikka insisted, a faint smile attempting to reassure him. ¡°I was just feeling Eldanar.¡±

    ¡°Feeling Eldanar?¡± Alaric pressed.

    ¡°He was¡ªspeaking to me just now,¡± Rikka said, her tone low. ¡°It is a lumina thing¡­ occasionally, we get feelings, emotions, flashes¡ªimages. They can be quite powerful to the point of being overwhelming.¡±

    ¡°And this one was?¡±

    She nodded gravely. ¡°Sometimes the meaning is crystal clear.¡±

    ¡°But not this time?¡±

    Again, she gave a nod as she turned her gaze back to the fire. ¡°There is something I must do but am unsure what exactly that is. I¡ªI must meditate on it some.¡± She shook herself slightly and looked back over at him. ¡°Now, go get some sleep. You need it more than I, as, come morning, you have an army to lead.¡± She pointed at the tent firmly. ¡°Go. Leave me to worry about Eldanar¡¯s commands.¡±

    Not wanting to go, Alaric found himself hesitating. He had the feeling she was not telling him everything. The ring on his finger had begun to cool.

    ¡°I mean it,¡± Rikka said, her tone becoming as firm as cold granite. ¡°Go. I am fine. I just need time to think.¡±

    ¡°All right.¡± Reluctantly, Alaric nodded, his instincts still on alert. He drained the last of his tea and placed the empty mug by the entrance of the tent, then ducked inside, the flap falling into place behind him. Despite Rikka¡¯s reassurances, unease lingered in his mind, mixing with the exhaustion that tugged powerfully at his consciousness.

    He sat upon his cot and then lay down. He made a mental note to speak with her in the morning about it further. He was so tired, he did not even bother to remove his boots. Alaric cleared his mind of his concerns. He closed his eyes, and almost immediately, the oblivion of sleep took him.

 Chapter 16

    With a deep frown etched onto his face, Alaric pulled on the reins, bringing Maggie to a halt. Behind him, Ezran and Thorne reined in their mounts, gazes sweeping the surrounding area. The acrid smell of smoke hung heavily on the air, mingling with the cloying, sweet stench of death¡ªa scent all too familiar to Alaric.

    As if uncomfortable, Maggie sidestepped. Alaric, tightening his grip on the reins, ran his gaze over the unhappy scene before him and let go a heavy breath. He felt not just unhappy, but suddenly depressed. Up the road twenty yards, Ganister, noticing Alaric had stopped, called his mounted escort to a halt.

    ¡°Is there a problem, my lord?¡± Ganister called back.

    Though Alaric wanted to say yes, he shook his head. ¡°No.¡±

    Maggie pawed at the ground and snorted. It was clear she wanted to ride, to move on from this place. Leaning forward, he patted the side of her neck in a reassuring manner. Horses did not like the smell of death. Alaric did not like it either. It was so strong, he could taste it on his tongue.

    ¡°The senseless death that war brings.¡± Alaric exhaled heavily, speaking to himself in a low tone. ¡°I really had hoped to put it all away in a box somewhere, to never be opened again.¡±

    ¡°My lord?¡± Thorne inquired, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked over.

    ¡°This,¡± Alaric began, his hand sweeping over the scene, a farm sitting along the right side of the road. Like the others they passed, it had been carved from the heart of the forest and likely had been a mean affair, the inhabitants near dirt-poor.

    The farmstead was now only ruin and ash, something the forest, like a hungry monster, would greedily reclaim within a handful of years. This small, meager tract of land, barely larger than two acres, was but one of several they¡¯d passed since beginning the march this day. After the fourth or fifth razed farm, Alaric had stopped counting.

    The road Alaric¡¯s army was marching along was little more than a cart path that cut through the southernmost part of Urburn¡¯s thick forests. Courtesy of Ulden¡¯s maps, Alaric¡¯s army was marching along Kanar¡¯s border along a series of worn backroads.

    Behind them, three hundred yards back, the van of his army rounded a bend on the road and came into view, closing the distance with every step forward. The men were singing as they marched, likely the sergeants¡¯ doing to keep spirits up. It was also one way to pass the time and take the mind off weightier matters, such as death, which was never far from any soldier¡¯s thoughts as they marched off to war.

    The road was poorly maintained, with the forest closing in tightly on both sides. It was barely wide enough for a single wagon. His men had been forced to walk in a loose column of two, making the length of march, from the front of the column to the end, even longer. Alaric had been told by Duncan it stretched over twenty miles.

    So poor was this road, there had been times when the entire army had been forced to halt to remove fallen trees or rebuild a bridge over a small stream. Alaric¡¯s men had even been forced to widen and smooth the road at points so the wagons and carts could better make their way through rough areas.

    Partially turned in his saddle, Lieutenant Ganister was still looking back on Alaric, clearly waiting for him to begin moving again. Alaric shifted his gaze to the ruins of what had once been a farmhouse but was now a pile of charred beams sitting over an ash-covered stone foundation. The small barn next to the house had been torched as well. The bodies of a man, a woman, and a small child, barely older than a toddler, lay in the farmyard. Ravens were already at work on the dead, busily worrying at their flesh, seeking the softest and juiciest morsels, even as the bodies began to bloat.

    The field of what looked like hay had been burned and the vegetable garden torn up, the enemy having pulled from it whatever had been edible at this early point in the growing season. Around the small farm, the forest loomed, its edges blackened where the flames had lapped hungrily before being extinguished by rain or the fire simply burning itself out. Alaric¡¯s gaze traced the charred tree trunks and the scorched underbrush that bordered the farm.

    His unhappiness grew.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Thorne said, speaking up, ¡°are you¡ªokay?¡±

    ¡°This¡ª¡± The unhappiness within Alaric shifted to a sullen and simmering rage. It was building, mounting, and with it, the ring on his finger was growing hot. ¡°I had thought by returning home, I would be done with such horrors, finished¡­¡± Alaric expelled a hot breath. ¡°I was naive to think so.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lord,¡± Thorne replied softly, his voice a steady presence amidst the echoes of destruction, the stillness around them. He ran his gaze over the dead and then looked back on Alaric.

    The scowl on Alaric¡¯s face deepened as he glanced to his Shadow Guard.

    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡± Thorne responded to the look, gesturing toward the desolate farm with a sweep of his hand. ¡°That things like this never end? That there will always be killing to one degree or another? That this happened because King Thorold of Averndale views Kavahn¡¯s king as weak and decided to take advantage of that? You already know the truth, so why have me voice it?¡±

    Alaric gave a grunt.

    ¡°Real strength keeps things like this from happening,¡± Thorne added. ¡°You are the proof of that.¡±

    ¡°Under your rule, my lord, Dekar has been made peaceful,¡± Ezran said, joining the conversation. ¡°You made that a reality through military might and personal resolve. But it hasn¡¯t brought an end to killing or the suffering of others, those beyond your control.¡±

    ¡°This¡±¡ªThorne gestured at the ruined farm¡ª¡°is nothing more than a fact of life for a border land such as Urburn. You have seen it in the holy land and now you have seen it here in Kevahn.¡±

    ¡°You both are making me feel so much better,¡± Alaric said dryly. ¡°I should really seek your counsel more often. It has been quite cheering to the spirit.¡±

    ¡°Is cheering up what you really want?¡± Ezran asked. ¡°Or is it blood?¡±

    Alaric paused, reflecting on the question. His gaze drifted back to his approaching army, which was drawing closer, grinding its way steadily forward.

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric said, ¡°cheering up is not something I need. I am beyond that.¡±

    ¡°Then what is it you seek?¡± Ezran pressed, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. ¡°Blood?¡±

    ¡°I am not sure,¡± Alaric admitted.

    ¡°There will always be killing, murder, rape, and pillaging,¡± Ezran said, ¡°especially when it comes to war, where the baser nature of man emerges.¡±

    ¡°This sort of thing bothers me,¡± Alaric admitted. ¡°I could not bring myself to ever do something like this, even to our enemies on the worst of days.¡±

    ¡°That is one of the reasons why we follow you,¡± Thorne said.

    Feeling the frustration and rage, Alaric slapped his leg lightly. What was being done to Urburn was intentional. There was no doubt in his mind about that. The enemy was sowing terror. At the same time, what monsters were they building amongst their own ranks?

    Two of the birds, which had been greedily pecking at the flesh of the deceased, began squabbling loudly, flapping their wings and squawking at each other. Alaric watched for a moment, then looked back to Ezran.

    ¡°A stronger power needs to come to the fore,¡± Ezran continued, his gaze locking with Alaric. ¡°A power that others bend the knee to, that they will fear to tangle with, one that rules by might and example, not to mention fairness and law. Peace is a power that only resonates with strength. It is how the empire ruled.¡±

    Alaric did not reply, but he knew what Ezran said was true.

    ¡°We swore ourselves into your service for a reason,¡± Thorne added with a glance at Ganister, who was patiently waiting. The escort was out of earshot. ¡°We have never asked you to rebuild the Ordinate, not once. Nor will we.¡±

    ¡°But it is something you would like to see come to pass,¡± Alaric said. He held up a hand before either could speak. ¡°I know what you both want, what you desire. It is no different than what Eld, Torrin, and Rikka expect of me.¡±

    ¡°We are content,¡± Ezran said.

    ¡°Really?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°The Ordinate will return when God wants it to,¡± Thorne said and glanced to Ezran. ¡°I think we have both come to accept that reality.¡±

    ¡°We have,¡± Ezran said. ¡°And if you don¡¯t do it, perhaps one of your descendants will step forward to begin the restoration. By protecting you, we serve God and the empire. That is why we are content.¡±

    Alaric shook his head slightly. He ran his gaze once more over the scene of destruction. His thoughts went to the wider war and how it would shake out in the end. Bramwell and Caxatarus flashed to mind. Did they know the war had started?

    Seeking to provision, one of Bramwell¡¯s ships had put in and anchored in the harbor. However, Bramwell and his other ships were elsewhere. Before he marched, Alaric had sent word to Smuggler¡¯s Landing and the ship. Alaric suspected Bramwell had not needed notice from him and was already stirring the waters of conflict. The thought of it made him feel slightly better.

    ¡°How badly do you want to try to stop this sort of thing, my lord?¡± Thorne asked, waving a hand at the burned-out farmstead, his question slicing through the silence that had grown between them. Alaric turned in the saddle to face Thorne, his eyes searching the familiar features of his loyal servant. Like Ezran, he owed this man a great deal.

    ¡°Yes, that is a very good question,¡± Ezran chimed in, maneuvering his horse closer to Alaric¡¯s side. ¡°Or more appropriately, how much do you wish the killing lessened? That, I think, may be within power of achieving.¡±

    ¡°What you both are suggesting would result in even more bloodshed at first, additional suffering like this,¡± Alaric replied, his voice heavy with the weight of impending decisions, ones he most desperately wished not to make. ¡°I don¡¯t want that on my conscience.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Ezran said. ¡°Maybe not.¡±

    ¡°I think it very likely,¡± Alaric said firmly, then caught movement back down the road. He turned in the saddle, the leather creaking. Eld was riding forward, rapidly overtaking the head of the column and closing the distance between them.

    Thorne followed Alaric¡¯s gaze toward the approaching rider. ¡°The lines have already been drawn. More like him will come. Some will know why, and some may not. Eldanar will guide their steps, just as he has ours.¡±

    ¡°All that is needed is raising your banner and declaring to the world the emperor has returned,¡± Ezran added.

    Alaric frowned as he looked back upon Ezran. ¡°I thought you said you were content.¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Ezran said with a shrug as Eld reached them. ¡°I am very content.¡±Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Eld greeted solemnly, inclining his head, his gaze sweeping over the dead lying by the ruined farmhouse, the birds actively working and gorging themselves on the dead. The sight seemed to weigh on him, for he let go a heavy breath. His shoulders sagged slightly. ¡°A bad business, this.¡±

    ¡°Yes, a very bad business,¡± Alaric acknowledged, his tone somber as he nudged his horse back into a slow walk. The van of the column was now a hundred yards away and closing fast. It was time to move on. Eld, along with Ezran and Thorne, matched his pace, their horses¡¯ hooves thudding rhythmically against the packed dirt of the road. Ahead and without a word, Ganister started Alaric¡¯s escort moving once more.

    ¡°This is a grim affair indeed,¡± Eld said, his eyes trailing on the burned farm. In moments, they were back in the forest, the farm and the stench of death receding behind them. ¡°It¡¯s the tenth place we¡¯ve passed today that has been razed. I imagine much of Urburn has suffered a similar fate. The enemy are actively burning the earldom out, either killing or driving the people away.¡±

    ¡°The scouts are reporting as much,¡± Alaric confirmed, his expression grim. The reality of their situation was etched on his face, reflecting the destruction that had swept through this land like a plague, leaving sorrow and ash in its wake. He shook himself as if to shake away the memories of what he¡¯d just seen and decided to get down to business. ¡°To what do I owe this pleasure?¡±

    ¡°I have spent much of the morning riding with your lumina, a fascinating woman. We talked much on God and faith.¡±

    ¡°I see.¡± Alaric wondered how that was related to him. Had she encouraged the knight to ride with him? Alaric did not know. He had left Rikka and Kiera earlier that morning when they passed a small church the enemy had torched. The structure had not fully burned down. Rikka, along with Father Ava, had wanted some time to meditate and pray¡­ to commune with God.

    ¡°I enjoyed the conversation very much, but I thought I might ride with you for a time, my lord,¡± Eld responded, a hint of deference in his tone. ¡°If that is agreeable?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Alaric affirmed. ¡°Your company is welcome and provides a diversion from heavier thoughts.¡±

    Silence fell between them as they continued their journey, the only sounds the steady clopping of their horses¡¯ hooves, the gentle rustle of leaves stirred by a passing breeze, or the heavy chink of armor as one of them shifted in the saddle to get more comfortable. The day had dawned cool and remained nice, not too hot nor cold. It was a vast improvement over the previous day. Ahead, the road wound its serpentine and seemingly unending way through the forest.

    Alaric finally broke the silence. ¡°It is a tough world we live in. Unforgiving in the extreme.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Eld agreed. ¡°In a manner of speaking, this is all the result of the fall of the empire.¡±

    Alaric considered that for a long moment, then gave a nod. ¡°We live in a world left behind by giants.¡±

    ¡°That is an interesting way to put it,¡± Eld said, glancing over. ¡°I suppose you are correct, for we live in the shadow of a once great and mighty people.¡±

    ¡°If the empire was so strong, so powerful, why did it fall?¡± Thorne asked from behind. ¡°From our conversations, I know you are well-read, Sir Eld, so perhaps you might know the answer, the real answer. It is one I have often wondered on, for the empire covered much of the known world and took it by force. I have heard what the priests have said, that mankind turned away from the gods, sinned, and was punished. But is that what really happened?¡±

    ¡°It is partially correct. From what I understand, things, over time, became too soft for the Ordinate,¡± Eld said. ¡°Too easy.¡±

    ¡°Soft, how?¡± Alaric asked, curious.

    ¡°Perhaps comfortable would be a better word¡ªto the point where they were unwilling to sacrifice for all they had.¡±

    Alaric glanced over at the knight, his expression a mixture of curiosity and skepticism.

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Eld continued, having caught Alaric¡¯s look. ¡°The ancient historians who lived during the last days of the empire wrote on it extensively, the decay of their society. I have read much on the subject, trying to puzzle it out myself, and that is what I have come up with as an explanation.¡±

    ¡°Who?¡± Alaric asked, his interest piqued even further now. ¡°Which historians?¡±

    ¡°Icarius and Centala,¡± Eld responded. ¡°Copies of their works survived. I first came across them during my research on the last days of the empire. Have you by chance read either, my lord?¡±

    ¡°I have not,¡± Alaric admitted. Were there copies of these historians¡¯ works in his own library? Alaric made a mental note to search for them when he returned home. There might be something to learn in their writings, something to guard against.

    ¡°A pity,¡± Eld said, shaking his head slightly as he glanced up at the tree canopy that draped heavily over the road and shielded them from much of the sunlight, giving the world around them a twilight feel. ¡°Those books were in the Library of Sersia. They were good reads. I learned a great deal.¡±

    ¡°The Cardinal King¡¯s holy capital?¡± Alaric queried. He knew of the library but had never visited it. At the time, there hadn¡¯t been a need. Alaric had been focused on other things.

    ¡°One of Sunara¡¯s cities now,¡± Eld corrected gently.

    Alaric gave a nod. ¡°What do you mean by too comfortable?¡±

    Eld elaborated, ¡°Well, as they grew prosperous, they became complacent, decadent even. People, at least those in power, the nobility and middle class, started taking their safety and wealth for granted, that things could not and would not change.¡±

    Alaric guided Maggie around a large tree limb that had fallen in the middle of the road. The leaves, still attached, had long since turned brown. He knew it would be moved out of the way as the army reached it.

    ¡°Over the centuries,¡± Eld continued, ¡°they lost the strength of will that was needed to safeguard the empire in harsher times.¡± The knight was silent for a prolonged moment as they continued to ride. He sucked in a breath. ¡°The great families of the empire and those who had means stopped sending their children to serve, to bleed and die¡ªto fight for what they had.¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± Thorne said.

    ¡°Living well and the acquisition of things became the focus, rather than holding on to what they had¡ªprotecting the empire and upholding the ideals upon which it had been founded.¡±

    ¡°They lost sight of what was important,¡± Ezran interjected from behind, his voice carrying the weight of his conviction.

    Eld glanced back at the former ash man. For a moment, there was a hardening in his gaze as he regarded Ezran. Then it softened ever so slightly.

    ¡°That is one way to look at it,¡± Eld acknowledged and turned back to watch the road before his horse as they clopped onward. ¡°Centala saw it as a rot from within, a turning point from which there was no going back. He argued that as people looked away from their gods and their religions¡­ they worshiped instead the acquisition of material wealth more than they revered their divine souls, the holiness within, the divine spark that resides in all of us. They became decadent, hedonistic, engaging in practices that were banned by the church and God. Even the emperors themselves were guilty of such behavior. The words they spoke on faith became nothing more than hot air.¡±

    ¡°And Icarius?¡± Thorne inquired, clearly eager to understand the historian¡¯s perspective. ¡°What did he think?¡±

    ¡°He thought it a rot as well,¡± Eld replied, his voice taking on a reflective tone. ¡°But his analysis focused on the general population¡¯s ignorance of all they had, all the good that came from the Ordinate. They turned their backs on their ancestors, looked down upon them as ignorant and backward¡ªthe very shoulders upon which they stood, the very people who made the empire what it was, the most powerful nation our world has ever seen.¡± Eld paused to suck in a breath. ¡°Instead of honoring the state and contributing to its welfare, they were selfish in the extreme, demanding what the state could do for them, what they could get out of it, what they could take for themselves. In the end, that tore the heart out of the empire. It is why the gods struck, punishing all, sundering things, and burning and scorching the holy land, the heart of the Ordinate.¡±

    Alaric nodded thoughtfully as he absorbed Eld¡¯s explanation. Although he was not extensively knowledgeable about the last days of the Ordinate, the discussion intrigued him deeply. He found it difficult to imagine not defending what was rightfully his, Dekar, nor honoring one¡¯s ancestors.

    However, he had also seen firsthand the corruption and intrigue at the Cardinal King¡¯s court. Those in positions of power had strayed from their sacred duties, opting instead to pursue personal wealth, leaving their principles, their faith, and the holy mission God had set for them behind everything else.

    ¡°I have seen the truth of what you speak, the reality of it,¡± Alaric said, his voice tinged with experience, which promptly drew Eld¡¯s attentive gaze. ¡°In the Cardinal King¡¯s court, I witnessed it plain enough, the rot.¡±

    ¡°There were many in that court who proclaimed their faith loudly, yet followed another religion,¡± Eld responded, his tone laced with disdain. ¡°Greed.¡±

    They rounded a bend. Just ahead, on the side of the road, Jasper stood waiting. Beyond the man, Ganister had halted Alaric¡¯s escort. Sensing something was up, Alaric quickened the pace of his horse to a trot and rode up to meet his chief scout. The others followed suit, drawing their horses to a stop beside him. Jasper bowed his head respectfully.

    ¡°What do you have to report?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°There is a small village just up the road, my lord,¡± Jasper reported, his voice grave. ¡°It is ugly. The civilians were rounded up and executed. Many were locked within the local church and burned.¡±

    Eld sat up straighter at that. Alaric looked up the road, seeing only the forest that stretched ahead. About a quarter mile away, the road took yet another turn, hiding what lay beyond.

    ¡°Anyone who escaped the madness fled and is long gone. The enemy bound those prisoners that were not burned alive, lined them up, and cut their throats. As the army marches, they will see it plain enough, for the road passes directly through the center of the village.¡±

    Alaric gave an unhappy nod, absorbing the harsh reality of Jasper¡¯s report. The brutality of the act and its impact on his troops weighed heavily on his mind. Such sights could stir anger and a thirst for vengeance among his men. At the same time, it might also inspire fear, for that was surely the enemy¡¯s intent, sowing terror.

    ¡°The womenfolk were raped, with many showing signs of torture,¡± Jasper added, his voice dropping lower, heavy with the weight of the news. ¡°Even the children were not spared. The men who did this were monsters, my lord. It is bad.¡±

    Alaric grimaced, for, like him, he knew Jasper had seen a lot during the Crusade. If he said it was bad, then it was likely worse. ¡°Were they afoot or mounted?¡±

    ¡°Mounted soldiers, my lord,¡± Jasper continued. ¡°We have seen evidence of cavalry in the area, several hundred horse, at the very least. They had wagons and carts with them as well¡­ for loot. They moved off to the east.¡±

    ¡°Any idea on how long ago this happened?¡± Alaric asked, his mind racing through the tactical implications and how it might affect his decisions in the coming hours.

    ¡°No more than four days at best,¡± Jasper replied promptly.

    Alaric felt some relief at that, and calculated the potential movements of the enemy. They had likely moved on from the immediate vicinity, or at least he hoped so. It made no sense for them to linger, especially if they were foraging and taking everything they could.

    Alaric ran his gaze over the forest that crowded the road. If it came to a fight here, amongst the trees, mounted soldiers would be at a significant disadvantage. However, the enemy could easily discover his army and then report their presence to their king.

    That was the real threat.

    Alaric gestured behind him at the column, which was even now rounding the bend. ¡°Find Duncan and report what you saw. Make sure you tell him I want the men to hear what was done in Averndale¡¯s name. He is to spread the word. Also, have him make certain they know prisoners are not being taken and that, if not stopped, what was done here will be done in Dekar. He is to tell the men that you spoke with a survivor¡ªthat this village surrendered, and the enemy still put everyone to the sword.¡±

    ¡°But we don¡¯t know that, my lord,¡± Jasper protested. ¡°And I did not speak with a survivor. I have not encountered one. I believe the village was caught wholly by surprise¡ªthat the enemy dismounted and went in on foot from all directions so none could escape. My boys and I found picket lines off the road and out in the forest around the town.¡±

    Alaric hardened his tone. ¡°I want the men believing what I just told you to report, understand me?¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord. I do,¡± Jasper confirmed, his tone resolute. ¡°As you command, I will pass it on to Duncan.¡±

    ¡°Do you have anything else to report?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Good work,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Report to Duncan immediately.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord.¡± Jasper took a step off to the side for Alaric to continue on his way.

    Alaric looked over at Eld and nudged his horse forward, guiding the animal past Jasper. ¡°Let us go see this village. We will bear witness to what was done. Perhaps we might even spare a few moments to pray for the souls of the departed.¡±

    ¡°As you wish, my lord.¡± Eld fell in beside Alaric once again, maintaining pace with a thoughtful expression. After a few moments, he glanced over, his curiosity evident in his expression. ¡°Why did you want your men to hear what happened when they will march past the village in full sight? Why instruct your man to point out that prisoners aren¡¯t being taken? That is obvious, is it not? Also, why tell them the village surrendered first, when you know that¡¯s not what occurred?¡±

    Alaric glanced over at Eld. The man was a knight, educated and in service to his god. Some would call him a religious fanatic. Though he was an experienced warrior who¡¯d come with men-at-arms, he was not a leader, one who was responsible for an army and what was to come in the days and weeks ahead.

    ¡°He seeks to harden the men¡¯s hearts,¡± Thorne interjected from behind. His voice was steady, conveying an understanding of the harsh necessities of war. ¡°After all they¡¯ve seen today and what they will no doubt witness in the village, they will believe it when it¡¯s passed along and fight harder because of it. Knowing prisoners are not being taken will see them sell their lives dearly, rather than surrender or give up the fight when things get difficult, when confronted by the enemy in a line of battle. He is giving the men motivation and reinforcing what should be obvious but may not be to a young soldier, one who has yet to cut his teeth, one who has never faced or stood firm amidst the terror, not to mention the enemy, in a line of battle. It is better to stand and fight than run and be caught by an enemy who kills indiscriminately.¡±

    ¡°Is that true?¡± Eld turned back to Alaric, seeking confirmation.

    ¡°That and more,¡± Alaric admitted, his voice resolute. ¡°I am taking a mostly unblooded force into battle. I will cheat, steal, and take whatever advantage my enemy gives me and use it against him. Sir knight, in war, there are no rules but those we make for ourselves.¡±

    Eld was silent for several moments, clearly processing Alaric¡¯s words and the gravity of their implications. ¡°You are a hard man. But I think this world needs hard leaders, especially after seeing what we have this day.¡±

    ¡°Those who show weakness do not last long.¡± Alaric¡¯s thoughts slid back to the burned-out farms, the dead civilians. He considered the conversation they¡¯d just had about the end of the Ordinate. King Thorold of Averndale might profess to worship and follow the teachings of Eldanar, but his actions spoke otherwise. ¡°You think I am a hard and difficult man? No, I am worse than that. I am ruthless. I will show my enemies no weakness. For what they have done, I will show them even less mercy.¡±

 Chapter 17

    ¡°My lord, wake up.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s eyes snapped open. For a brief, disoriented moment, the blackness around him felt stifling, unfamiliar.

    Where was he?

    Then realization settled in. He was in his tent, lying on his cot. Rikka¡¯s arm lay draped across his chest, her body molded tightly against his in a comforting embrace. They had pushed both cots together to form a singular, albeit uneven, bed.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Thorne¡¯s voice came from outside, more insistent this time. ¡°You must wake up. There is a problem. You¡¯re needed at headquarters. Duncan has asked that you come immediately.¡±

    The gravity of Thorne¡¯s tone sliced through the remnants of sleep, pulling Alaric into full alertness. With a gentle touch, he shifted Rikka¡¯s arm off his chest. She murmured a soft protest, the sound tinged with sleep, and rolled away. The sudden absence of her warmth was like a cold draft, and the tent seemed to chill a fraction more.

    Alaric swung his legs over the side of the cot and sat up, rubbing at his eyes, trying to force the last vestiges of sleep away. The cot creaked ominously under his weight, protesting the sudden movement. His body ached badly from the day¡¯s march. He¡¯d taken turns riding and walking. He now felt every mile his army had covered.

    ¡°My lord¡­¡±

    ¡°I will be right there,¡± Alaric responded, his voice firm but low, not wanting to disturb Rikka any further than he already had. The urgency in Thorne¡¯s call promised a situation that could not wait until dawn, and as a leader, Alaric knew all too well that such awakenings were seldom harbingers of good news.

    Outside the tent, the soft rustling and crunch of dirt indicated Thorne¡¯s retreat from the entrance.

    ¡°What is going on?¡± Rikka asked, sleep heavy in her voice. ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Alaric admitted, his tone mingling concern with a residual grogginess as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes once more, even as he yawned powerfully. He reached for his boots. ¡°Go back to sleep. I will deal with it, whatever it is.¡±

    Rikka¡¯s response was nonverbal, a simple drawing of the thick blankets around her form. Satisfied she was settling back into sleep, already in his trousers, Alaric slipped his feet into his boots, lacing them up. He grabbed his tunic from where it lay draped over a nearby stool and pulled it swiftly over his head.

    Alaric came to his feet and stooped slightly to avoid hitting the low ceiling of the tent. Reaching the flap, he pushed it aside and stepped out into the crisp night air. The moon was not in view, yet the stars scattered across the sky shone with a piercing clarity, casting a muted glow over the encampment. Alaric took a moment to look around. Just yards from his campsite, rows upon rows of tents spread outward. Around him, the camp lay ensconced in a deep silence, the rest of the army oblivious in their sleep to the unfolding situation that rousted their leader from a deep slumber.

    Thorne had just stoked the fire, adding logs that had caught quickly and flared to life, casting an energetic glow that sent sparks dancing into the night air. He turned to face Alaric, who approached with the weary and shuffling demeanor of a man untimely awakened. Alaric stifled a yawn, the chill of the night battling the warmth of the burgeoning fire.

    ¡°I feel like I just went to sleep¡ªthat I just shut my eyes.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s because you did,¡± Thorne replied with a hint of sympathy. ¡°Little more than three quarters of an hour has passed since you went to bed, my lord. It is still well before midnight.¡±

    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± Alaric glanced around once more, this time looking in the direction of the headquarters tent, just forty yards away. Bright lantern light spilled out from its entrance, silhouetting two guards who stood watch. No one else was up and about. The alert had not been sounded. Whatever had happened was not an immediate emergency. But that didn¡¯t mean it might not become one.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Thorne admitted, his brows furrowed with uncertainty. ¡°A messenger came into camp and then Jasper shortly after. Duncan sent a man asking you to report to the command tent, that you were needed there.¡±

    Without another word, Alaric started for the tent, his stride purposeful. Thorne fell into step with him. As they approached, the guards snapped to attention and saluted sharply. Alaric acknowledged them with a nod and swept past, entering the tent. Thorne remained behind.

    Inside, the air was thick with the smell of mustiness, weatherproofing grease the tent canvas had been treated with, lamp oil, and ink, all mingling with the less pleasant odor of unwashed bodies. Jasper and all three of Alaric¡¯s bannermen, along with Jaxen, were gathered around a central table. They were studying a map, their expressions taut with concentration. They looked up as Alaric approached and straightened respectfully. None of Alaric¡¯s clerks were present. They were likely still in their beds. From their grim looks, he had a dark suspicion that would not last long.

    The map, one of the ones Ulden provided, was spread wide, held down by small river stones at each corner. Though old and yellowed from age, it was the most detailed map Alaric had of the region, a sprawl of intricate lines and markings.

    The flickering light from the lanterns that hung overhead from the posts cast shifting shadows over the map, making the terrain, roads, towns, villages, and other markings seem almost alive. Each man around the table bore the look of one who had been roused from sleep to urgent counsel. No one was wearing their armor.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Duncan said, ¡°sorry to have woken you, but the news we¡¯ve received is important.¡±

    ¡°I have gathered that already,¡± Alaric said. ¡°What¡¯s happened?¡±

    ¡°There is an enemy force camped within three miles of our current position,¡± Duncan reported as he made space for Alaric at the crowded table.

    That got Alaric¡¯s attention.

    ¡°Where?¡± Alaric¡¯s focus sharpened as he leaned over the map, his eyes finding the position of their current encampment. For the last two days, they had been navigating Beaver¡¯s Run, a back road so narrow and poorly maintained that it had bottlenecked their supply train, delaying their progress significantly. Alaric had chosen the route because of its remoteness. And yet, they were now only two, maybe three days from the king¡¯s designated rally point at Cret¡¯s Crossing.

    Or so Alaric hoped. There was no telling what the road would look like ahead of them. There were several rivers along the planned route as well. Though bridges were marked on the map, he did not know what condition they were in, let alone whether they were still there, since the map was an old one.

    ¡°Where are they?¡±

    Jasper leaned in, his finger landing decisively on a section of the map, not far from the army¡¯s camp. ¡°Here, my lord, along this road that runs east before turning north.¡±

    The road he indicated ran parallel to Beaver¡¯s Run for a stretch, uncomfortably near where his army was camped, before veering sharply north. It was labeled Smith¡¯s Way, a route Alaric had previously noted but hadn¡¯t given much attention to until now.

    He had been looking to avoid contact with the enemy, and Smith¡¯s Way traveled ultimately north, toward the likely line of march of Thorold¡¯s army, while Beaver¡¯s Run moved in the direction he wanted, steadily westward toward the rally point. Alaric noted where, just a few miles ahead of his planned march, both roads came together.

    His mind raced through tactical implications, wondering if the enemy had discovered him. Had they anticipated Alaric¡¯s route and chosen Smith¡¯s Way for an intercept, the crossroads for an ambush on his column of march? Or were they moving to simply cut him off from the rally point?

    ¡°Though you can¡¯t see it from the road we are moving along, there is a ridgeline between us and Smith¡¯s Way,¡± Jasper continued, his tone suggesting the strategic importance of this geographical feature, which was marked upon the map. ¡°It is quite steep and rugged.¡±

    ¡°On a hunch,¡± Duncan interjected, ¡°I sent a team up in the afternoon and onto the ridge, hoping they might find a good point and be able to survey the terrain for miles around.¡±

    ¡°And I elected to go with them,¡± Jasper added. ¡°We found no clear point, so I had to climb a tree to better see. Not much was visible, but I did spot smoke down the reverse side of the ridge, less than a mile distant.¡±

    ¡°And you went to investigate,¡± Alaric surmised.

    ¡°Aye, my lord, we did,¡± Jasper confirmed, his demeanor reflecting the gravity of their discovery. ¡°We discovered a foraging party, mounted men with nets affixed to their horses, along with two wagons. They had stopped and were cooking a late lunch. That was what gave them away, the fire. I wanted to see where they would go, so we followed them after they were done. They led us to a camp here, by this lake.¡± Jasper¡¯s finger pressed against the map again.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°Mirror Lake,¡± Alaric said, reading the name etched onto the map. The location was alarmingly close to their current position. He looked back up at Jasper. ¡°How large is this camp, the enemy force there?¡±

    ¡°More than two hundred cavalry, and three hundred foot,¡± Jasper reported, ¡°light infantry.¡±

    Alaric sucked in a breath at the news. It was a significant force, one to be concerned about.

    ¡°They have fifty wagons, along with a substantial train of mules,¡± Jasper added. ¡°This is the force that has been raiding and looting the region clean. I am sure of it.¡±

    ¡°My lord,¡± Duncan began, ¡°this camp has no defenses to speak of.¡±

    Alaric looked sharply at his bannerman, his brows knitting together. He found that news even more surprising. It created the potential for an opportunity.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t put out any scouts either, at least none that I could readily see,¡± Jasper continued, ¡°just typical sentries on the camp¡¯s boundary.¡±

    ¡°Overconfident bastards,¡± Keever interjected, his voice edged with a mix of disdain and eagerness. ¡°They¡¯ve been beating on helpless civilians long enough. I think we should show them how real men fight, what it¡¯s like to face off against someone with a sword and shield.¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t know we¡¯re here,¡± Alaric concluded, the realization bringing a strategic clarity as he gazed at the map. The enemy¡¯s ignorance of their proximity was an advantage too valuable to ignore. With the length of his column, he feared they would have been discovered by now. That was inevitable at some point, but it seemed the enemy was working their way eastward with their pillaging and looting, not in the direction he¡¯d come. They had already picked that ground clean.

    ¡°If they did know we were here,¡± Jaxen chimed in, ¡°they would have taken better precautions and constructed a fortified encampment¡ªor simply upped and run.¡±

    ¡°I am in agreement. They believe themselves to be safe,¡± Jourgan added. ¡°Hence the lack of precautions.¡±

    The circle of commanders, illuminated by the flickering lantern light, now looked expectantly to Alaric. He felt the weight of command settle upon his shoulders. He directed a focused look at Jasper. ¡°Any guess on how long they¡¯ve been there?¡±

    ¡°Several days at the very least.¡± Jasper gave a shrug. ¡°It appears they are using this camp as a base of operations from which to raid and loot the region, to stockpile it for transport. Almost all the foraging parties that returned at dusk came in from the east. Only a couple arrived along a westward track.¡±

    ¡°They¡¯re accumulating food supplies for their army,¡± Keever added.

    ¡°Which means the main body can¡¯t be that far away,¡± Alaric concluded, the threads of the situation weaving together in his mind. Whatever he decided to do, in the coming days, he needed to be exceptionally careful.

    ¡°We are in agreement on that point,¡± Duncan said, his voice firm. There were nods all around.

    Should he continue to avoid contact with the enemy, hope to draw closer to the rally point before he was discovered? Or should he move and strike at this enemy force? If he did strike, word would almost certainly get out he was here, and Thorold might turn upon him with everything he had.

    Alaric¡¯s king was marching to a point where he intended to put a river between himself and the enemy. Once there, Alaric knew he would not budge from his defenses, leaving Alaric alone on the wrong side of the river. From Thorold¡¯s perspective there would be little risk in going for Alaric¡¯s army, for he would deduce that as well. He¡¯d already beaten King Roderick¡¯s army once, and Roderick would be loath for that to happen a second time, for it could very well mean his undoing.

    There was no doubt in Alaric¡¯s mind he was on his own.

    ¡°The scouts you pushed out, five to ten miles,¡± Alaric said, turning his attention to Duncan. ¡°How did they miss this camp?¡±

    ¡°There is a lot of territory to cover,¡± Duncan admitted. ¡°And we only have fifty men, spread out in all directions. Keep in mind, each day, our army is on the move. They have to keep up with us, not to mention their scouting¡­ and well¡­ you know how difficult that can be. There is a lot of ground to cover.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod of understanding, his mind racing. He wished he¡¯d committed more men to his bannerman¡¯s scouting endeavor, for there might be other raiding forces out there like this one. Worse, the enemy might have found him first and positioned themselves to hit him. Fortune, for the moment, was on their side.

    Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he examined the map closer, pondering the possible routes along which the main body of the enemy army might be marching. Several major roads lay to the north, about thirty miles distant. It was these that drew his attention.

    ¡°I want a pair of mounted scouts dispatched tonight.¡± Alaric leaned forward to touch the map, running his hand along the roads he thought Thorold¡¯s army might be marching upon. ¡°I want them to eyeball these three routes. Find out if the enemy¡¯s main body is there or has passed by recently.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Duncan said. ¡°And what of this mixed force of cavalry and infantry, this bunch of raiders? If it comes to a battle of armies in the days ahead, and the fight over open ground, cavalry, as you know, is king. We may have an opportunity to wipe out a portion of the enemy¡¯s mounted wing.¡±

    ¡°I agree,¡± Keever said. ¡°There is an opportunity here.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod at that. Mirror Lake was so close and yet so far. There was the ridgeline to consider, for it was between his army and the enemy raiding camp.

    ¡°We may never get a better opportunity than now,¡± Duncan added, ¡°to strike a blow at the enemy, one that could have far-reaching results.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s own cavalry force was quite modest¡ªnumbering merely fifty mounted soldiers. Horses were expensive, not only to acquire, but to maintain, to feed, and that did not include the soldiers who rode them. They required much more intensive training and outfitting.

    The terrain of Dekar, a realm much cloaked in dense forests akin to those of Urburn, did not favor large cavalry operations, at least when it came to armies and battlefield maneuvers. The thick underbrush and trees hampered the mobility that cavalry units typically relied on, making them less effective in such environments. Instead, infantry¡ªfoot soldiers adept at maneuvering through such rugged and difficult landscapes¡ªwere a more practical choice, which was where he had placed much of his focus and energies.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze intensified as he leaned over the map spread out between them. He pointed to the stretch of land sandwiched between the two critical roads, tracing the outline of the ridge that loomed as a serious barrier, then back again. He looked up and over at Jasper. ¡°How long would it take us to cross this ridgeline and reach the enemy¡¯s camp at Mirror Lake? Can we do it before dawn?¡±

    Jasper responded with a grin, his eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and confidence. ¡°I thought you might be wanting to know that, my lord,¡± he admitted. ¡°I have men marking a route even now. Only those on foot will be able to make the journey. Horses, wagons, and mules will have to be left behind. And yes, I believe if you rousted the men now, we could manage it in five hours¡ªwith a sixth to get the men into position for an assault either just before dawn or slightly after.¡±

    Alaric absorbed Jasper¡¯s words, mind already turning over the logistics and potential risks of such a maneuver. He looked at the map again. If they were discovered as they moved into position, the enemy would be ready for them, waiting, or they might begin to withdraw.

    ¡°So,¡± he mused aloud, the strategic possibilities unfolding in his mind, ¡°we could be in a jump-off position by dawn if we pushed the men? Are you certain?¡±

    ¡°I would say so, my lord,¡± Jasper confirmed, his tone edged with the urgency of their task. ¡°Speed would be of the essence to pull off what you are suggesting.¡±

    The prospect of catching their enemy off guard offered a significant tactical advantage. Alaric considered the magnitude of the decision before him. He rubbed the back of his neck. The chance to decisively engage and potentially obliterate an enemy force of over five hundred¡ªtwo hundred of whom were cavalry¡ªwas an opportunity, one he could not pass up. He would be foolish to let this slip through his fingers.

    ¡°Jaxen,¡± Alaric said, ¡°roust the men. Do it now. All six companies, including the men-at-arms our bannermen brought, are to march.¡±

    ¡°At once, my lord,¡± Jaxen replied with a nod, his movements brisk as he worked his way around the table and jogged out of the tent into the night to carry out his orders.

    ¡°We¡¯re not taking the militia?¡± Jourgan questioned.

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric responded firmly. He traced a line to the lake depicted on the map where the enemy was encamped. Then he tapped their own camp. ¡°The militia will remain and guard the supply train. We will take the rest of the army up and over the ridge to attack the enemy. Six companies should be enough.¡±

    ¡°I see,¡± Jourgan said.

    ¡°It is likely to be overkill, my lord,¡± Keever said. ¡°That¡¯s more than double the number of the enemy.¡±

    ¡°We will attack with overwhelming force. I have made my decision, and we will do this right, in strength. With a night movement, there are just too many risks, too much that could go wrong.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Keever said.

    ¡°A victory will give our boys confidence,¡± Duncan said.

    ¡°I want the train to keep moving. We will meet up with them tomorrow, likely after dark, here.¡± Alaric¡¯s hand moved to indicate the point where the roads met on the map a few miles to the east. He looked up at Duncan, his expression resolute. ¡°Send some of our cavalry to this crossroads tonight, where the two roads meet. If there is an enemy force there, I would know of it in advance.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Duncan said. ¡°They will take and hold the crossroads until the train comes up.¡±

    The resonant blare of a horn pierced the air outside, a call rallying the men to readiness, to arms. A few moments later, the call rang out again. Sergeants and officers began shouting mere heartbeats later.

    ¡°Jourgan,¡± Alaric began, his voice carrying a firm undercurrent of leadership, ¡°would you do me the honor of commanding the supply train and the militia in my absence?¡±

    Alaric was well aware his request would be met with disappointment from Jourgan, possibly even resistance. The man would prefer to be at the forefront of the attack with his men. Nonetheless, Alaric needed someone reliable and competent to protect their logistical lifeline, to keep the train moving and safe, someone he trusted.

    The man straightened and opened his mouth to speak. But nothing came out. His expression tightened and he closed his mouth, looking at the map for several heartbeats.

    ¡°I need someone I can count on with the train,¡± Alaric said, ¡°and that person is you.¡±

    ¡°Then I will do as you ask, my lord,¡± Jourgan affirmed, his voice steady and committed. ¡°I will remain behind. You need not worry about the train.¡±

    ¡°Thank you,¡± Alaric said. He turned his attention to Duncan and Keever. ¡°There is no time to organize rations for this movement. Make sure the men have full canteens and whatever food is on hand¡ªthe precooked rations in their haversacks should suffice. That¡¯s it. We are traveling light¡ªweapons, shields, and armor only, understand? Speed will be of the essence.¡±

    The horn cried out again, its deep tones resonating through the crisp air. Like a great beast, his army was waking from its slumber. The noise had increased dramatically as the chaos of preparation began. Though they did not yet know why, his small army was readying itself for battle.

    Alaric¡¯s eyes swept over Jasper, Keever, and Duncan. ¡°Once we step off, I want to move hard and fast. We will drive the men as they¡¯ve never been driven before. Our chances of success increase with us being in position before dawn. They decrease after, understand?¡±

    There were nods all around the table. Alaric paused and sucked in a breath before letting it out. He had made his decision, and now it was time to let his commanders go and get on with it, to make it happen.

    ¡°We move out within the half hour.¡±

 Chapter 18

    Amidst the dew-coated undergrowth near the edge of the tree line, Alaric took a knee next to Jaxen. The first faint rays of dawn had begun to color the sky, and just barely at that. Alaric pushed aside a bush. A sea of stumps spread out before him, and beyond that was the enemy¡¯s camp, down the bottom of the slope, maybe a hundred fifty yards away.

    They were perched atop a small hill. Below them, wrapped tightly in the cloak of pre-dawn darkness, the enemy slept, unaware of the hammer about to drop, the storm Alaric intended to release.

    Five yards into the forest behind them and out of view, a line¡ªJaxen¡¯s company, formed into two ranks¡ªwas moving into position. The air, cool and crisp, carried the scent of damp foliage and the distant, faint tang of smoldering campfires, along with the stench of human waste, the enemy¡¯s latrines.

    The encampment was near silent. Nothing stirred but the occasional gust of wind. Swirls of mist, born from the waters of the lake, danced around countless tents, which seemed to have been pitched in a haphazard manner. Enemy banners, marked with the emblem of a red raven perched atop a black tower, stirred languidly in the gentle morning breeze. Alaric recognized the pennant of Averndale, Thorold¡¯s mark.

    His eyes traced the contours of the land and the layout of the camp, committing every detail to memory, at least what he could make out under the dim light. Each breath he took seemed laden with the weight of what was about to happen, along with a stirring anxiousness. Beside him, Jaxen remained a silent presence, his young face set in grim determination.

    Behind them both, the two lines finished their movement and settled down to wait, every single man taking a knee. The noise they had generated, which seemed quite loud but actually wasn¡¯t all that noisy, rapidly subsided. Shrouded by the cloak of early morning darkness and hidden amongst the trees, this portion of Alaric¡¯s army was invisible to those below.

    Studying the enemy camp, he noted the placement of the guards¡ªthose he could see, too few and scattered widely about. Even from a distance, they appeared bored and disinterested. Several had even grouped together near a low-burning fire and were talking casually amongst themselves, an egregious breach of discipline, one Alaric would never have tolerated. But he¡¯d take every advantage his enemy gave him, and laxness was one such advantage.

    With each passing moment, as the sky lightened further, everything was becoming clearer, more defined. Alaric¡¯s choice to join this wing of the attack, the one on the west side of camp, was deliberate. Having come down over the ridge, they were positioned where it would be the easiest and fastest to move into jump-off positions.

    This was no arbitrary decision; should they be discovered as they moved into position and the enemy raise the alarm, this side of the assault force would immediately go over to the attack and strike at the camp alone, doing its best to create as much confusion and chaos as possible.

    Waiting to attack after an alarm was raised, when all three wings would be in position and ready, simply was not an option, at least in Alaric¡¯s eyes. He could not allow the enemy to become organized, for doing so would increase his casualties, not to mention give the enemy a credible chance to defend and throw him back. He needed to be here, where his leadership and decision-making could directly influence the outcome of the fight to come, especially if it began early.

    Duncan commanded the northern line, while Keever had the eastern force. It would take time for both men to get the forces under their control into position and ready for jump-off, hence the reason he and Jaxen were now waiting. The lake bordered the southern side of the camp, effectively blocking that avenue.

    If everything worked as planned, Alaric would soon have the enemy boxed in neatly and be able to strike simultaneously from three directions at once, complicating any scratch defense his enemy could manage to throw together. The tension he felt was immense, for things rarely, if ever, went to plan. It took all of his effort to remain calm, for he knew not only was Jaxen watching him, but so too were the men behind. They had to see him as confident and in control.

    From Jaxen¡¯s men, the silence was occasionally broken by a stray noise¡ªa light cough, sneeze or the shuffle of a foot, the snapping of a branch¡ªprompting a sharp hiss of rebuke from an officer or sergeant. After each, the silence would return, seemingly deeper and more profound than before.

    Alaric felt this tension not just around him, but within, vibrating through his being. Every sense was heightened, every nerve taut with the readiness for the coming battle. He scanned the setting before him, his ears tuned to the slightest deviation from the natural sounds on the air.

    As the light grew and time continued to slide by, Alaric studied the camp closer, his gaze lingering over the layout. Peering through the diminishing gloom, his eyes narrowed as he assessed the scene with a seasoned eye.

    It was as Jasper had said.

    There was not a defensive trench or wall about the entire camp. Beyond the sprawling sea of tents and the latrines, on the far side of the camp, near the forest¡¯s edge, stood the horse and wagon park. At least two hundred strong, the horses were picketed and organized into three neat lines. Like the men in the camp, they were oblivious to the impending danger.

    Next to the horses were dozens of parked wagons, along with several lines of picketed mules and oxen. Many of the wagons were loaded with what Alaric assumed to be food stores and looted goods, their contents obscured under heavy tarps to shield them from the elements. Piles of crates and various other items lay stacked neatly and shrouded in the near darkness, their contents a mystery, yet undoubtedly part of the substantial loot accumulated by this force.

    A cold fury settled over Alaric as he studied the loot. His thoughts flashed to the numerous farms razed to the ground, buildings reduced to nothing more than charred skeletons or ash, the crops burned, lives destroyed. He recalled the bodies, the innocent lives snuffed out in violence, including the children.

    The grim realization that this very force before him was responsible for that devastation hardened his resolve. His heart grew even firmer with the weight of justice, the heavy hammer he wielded and was about to deliver. Alaric¡¯s jaw set firmly. Today, the enemy would pay for their crimes. He would make sure of it.

    ¡°We¡¯ve caught them completely by surprise,¡± Jaxen breathed out quietly to Alaric.

    Alaric, feeling a surge of fierce exhilaration that mixed with the rage, nodded in agreement. ¡°We have caught them flat-footed.¡±

    Movement and rustling to the left caused both Jaxen and Alaric to turn. Hunched over, Captain Lee was making his way down the line of Jaxen¡¯s men. Lee was a solid and powerful man, with muscular arms, standing just over five feet. His short-cropped red hair was mostly hidden underneath his helmet. The captain commanded one of Alaric¡¯s infantry companies, the Second Dekar. Spotting Alaric, Lee angled his course and made his way over. He knelt.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Lee said as he glanced down at the sleeping camp. ¡°My men are in position on the left.¡±

    Alaric looked but could not see through the foliage and dim light beyond a few yards.

    ¡°We are in direct contact with Jaxen¡¯s line,¡± Lee continued. ¡°My boys are ready.¡±

    ¡°Very good, Captain,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Once Jaxen¡¯s line moves, that will be your cue to go forward, understand? You don¡¯t move until he does.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Lee said and turned his gaze again toward the camp. A hungry grin spread across his face. ¡°They have no idea what¡¯s about to hit them.¡±

    ¡°No, they don¡¯t,¡± Alaric agreed. ¡°Now, kindly return to your men. Be ready.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±

    Lee stood and, still hunched over, made his way back from whence he¡¯d come. Alaric liked Lee. The man was in his late twenties. He was a veteran of the Crusade and a former mercenary. He was experienced and hard-working, not to mention seasoned.

    Alaric had offered him not only a salary to command the Second Dekar, but land, several hundred acres, in return for his service. Lee had taken him up on the offer, and for the first time in the man¡¯s life, he¡¯d put down roots. He was competent and cool-headed, something Alaric looked for in his officers. With a wife back home and a baby on the way, he had something to fight for beyond simple pay.

    Jaxen shifted slightly, his armor chinking as he repositioned. ¡°How long do you think it will take Keever to get into position?¡± His voice betrayed a hint of nerves, a natural response given the stakes and what was about to happen.

    ¡°Hopefully, not too terribly long,¡± Alaric reassured him, his tone steady. ¡°He has the longest way to go. As soon as he¡¯s ready, he will kick off the attack. That is our signal and Duncan¡¯s to go forward.¡±

    He had repeated what Jaxen already knew, not out of redundancy, but to reinforce the plan. There was comfort through familiarity, especially when it came to battle. Alaric was acutely aware of the calming effect that clear expectations could have, especially on younger and inexperienced officers like Jaxen.

    Alaric stifled a yawn. The march over the ridge had been less arduous than anticipated, but the cloying fatigue was undeniable. With little sleep, Alaric felt it in his legs, heavy and spent from the relentless push through the night, made worse after a long day¡¯s march. He knew his men were feeling it as well. They had been trained hard and would soon do what he needed them to do.

    Glancing behind him, Alaric saw Ezran and Thorne, their expressions grim under the dim light. Jasper and two of his rangers were guiding Duncan and Keever¡¯s forces into position. He glanced up at the sky, which was growing brighter rapidly. With every passing heartbeat the risk of discovery increased. Though he hated waiting, Alaric understood it would not be long now.

    He stared at the ground for a long moment, considering his plan. He had set everything in motion and was now mostly helpless to change anything. Once the attack kicked off, his bannermen and captains would be running the show. Alaric would have limited control. That knowledge was something that had taken him years to come to grips with, and even now, he found himself struggling. The urge to micromanage was powerful, but given the plan of attack, that would be incredibly difficult.

    In an attempt to calm his nerves, Alaric took in a deep breath of the cool, crisp air and let it out through his nose. He sucked in another and let it out slowly. Up to this point, he¡¯d done all he could. It was time to attend to spiritual matters, his soul.

    ¡°Lord above and beyond.¡± Alaric lowered his head as he drew another deep, steadying breath. ¡°Eldanar, hear my plea. I seek your favor for myself and my men. Grant us victory this day that we may continue to uphold the glory of your name. Let your wisdom guide my actions, your strength fortify our arms and harden our hearts. Spare the lives of my brave soldiers, lessen the widow¡¯s weep and the orphan¡¯s cry, as only you, in your boundless grace, can. And should the threads of fate decree my end, I commend my spirit into your keeping. In your name, I pray.¡±

    ¡°Amen,¡± Jaxen and Thorne said almost simultaneously. Ezran uttered nothing. That was hardly unexpected.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze settled on Jaxen. He had intentionally kept the man with him and not sent him with his father. ¡°This will be your first real fight in command of your company. If it comes to a stand-up fight, line against battle line, it will be chaotic and confusing. Keep your head. Try to bring organization to the madness and direct your men where you feel appropriate, where they will do the most good. When in doubt, make a decision. Any decision, even a poor one, is better than no decision when it comes to a fight, understand?¡±

    Jaxen, clearly feeling the weight of Alaric¡¯s expectations and the enormity of the responsibility before him, nodded firmly.

    ¡°I do, my lord,¡± he replied, his voice steady, despite the underlying nerves he was clearly working to hide. ¡°I will not let you down. My men will not either.¡±

    Alaric clapped Jaxen on the shoulder. ¡°I expect not.¡±

    The early morning was shattered by a distant shout, slicing through the calm with startling abruptness. Alaric automatically tensed. Around him, every man stiffened, sparking a chain reaction of heightened alertness.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    The shout, though unclear and indistinct, rang through the air again. It didn¡¯t carry the tone of an alarm, but rather something else¡ªsomething imminent, an order. Alaric¡¯s eyes darted toward the tree line to the east, where the darkness itself seemed to stir and shift. His pulse quickened as he discerned movement and peered closer: It was Keever and his men, rapidly becoming visible as they advanced in a disciplined line two ranks deep.

    Keever had more than two full companies at his command. Emerging from the protective shroud of the forest, they reached the horses, mules, and wagons. Two enemy sentries, taking in the infantry advancing toward them, ran toward the camp, crying out in alarm. A moment later, Keever¡¯s orderly lines dissolved as the men started working their way through and around the picketed horses, mules, oxen, and parked wagons, along with the piles of stacked goods.

    Then came another shout, this one distinct and forceful, erupting from the north.

    ¡°Forward!¡± The command cut through the air, decisive and clear. Alaric turned his gaze toward the source of the sound. It was Duncan, leading his men out and into the open, as they too emerged from the cover of trees, lining up along the only road leading out of the camp. Both wings of Alaric¡¯s attack¡ªKeever¡¯s and Duncan¡¯s¡ªlooked powerful and strong.

    The sudden blare of a horn ripped from the enemy camp, its desperate call a clear signal for the men to arm themselves and defend their position. But Alaric knew it was already too late. They would not have sufficient time to organize.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Jaxen said, urgency threading his voice, ¡°do I have your permission to give the order to advance?¡±

    Alaric¡¯s instinct was to grant him permission. His head began to nod, but the horn¡¯s cry came again¡ªa plaintive echo piercing the growing clamor down below. It gave him pause and a thought struck him, an idea. His gaze swept over the camp again. Men were tumbling and spilling from their tents in disarray, their shouts, alarmed cries, and screams mingling with the crack of orders from officers and sergeants.

    ¡°My lord?¡±

    ¡°Not yet,¡± Alaric finally said, his voice firm, holding up his hand. This was not the moment for haste. The chaos amongst the enemy would only continue to mount with every passing moment.

    ¡°But that wasn¡¯t the plan,¡± Jaxen said.

    ¡°I am changing the plan,¡± Alaric said gruffly. ¡°We hold for a few more moments.¡±

    Alaric waited on the hill, observing the attack unfolding below. An enemy soldier, standing firm before the force advancing from the direction of the road, raised his sword and attacked Duncan¡¯s line. His weapon was swiftly parried by a shield and knocked aside.

    So powerful was the attack and block that the solid, resonant thunk reached Alaric from almost a quarter of a mile away. A moment later, the attacker was cut down by multiple blades, his life extinguished in an instant. Without hesitating, let alone stopping, Duncan¡¯s line advanced over the fallen body like an unstoppable force.

    Another man threw up his hands before the advancing force. He sank to his knees, waving his hands in the air. Duncan¡¯s line ground onward and up to the surrendering man. One of Alaric¡¯s soldiers stabbed out, taking the man in the collar, driving him backward and to the ground. The line never stopped as they marched over him, pressing deeper into the camp.

    Men with bows, from Materin¡¯s bow company, the Fifth Dekar Light Infantry, had been positioned just behind Duncan¡¯s battle line. At an order, the bowmen stopped. With arrows nocked, they raised their bows skyward as Duncan¡¯s men continued to press forward, entering and then passing the first few lines of tents and pushing into the enemy encampment. A chaotic skirmish rapidly ensued there as stragglers emerged from tents and found themselves immediately confronted by Alaric¡¯s men.

    Another order was snapped from an officer or sergeant with the bowmen. A wave of nearly one hundred arrows shot up into the sky in a wave of death. Alaric watched as the arrows rose up over the camp before falling in a deadly rain, hammering downward. Screams of pain rang out. Another volley was rapidly sent, raining down again over the enemy. There were more screams and cries of panic.

    A few enemy warriors facing Duncan¡¯s men, desperate and defiant, lashed out against the oncoming tide of soldiers, who had not stopped but continued onward, driving into the camp. Their efforts at defense were futile and disorganized, as many more of their fellows fled and stumbled through their own camp in panic, seeking flight rather than resistance.

    ¡°But why?¡± Jaxen asked, his voice tinged with frustration. ¡°Why not follow the plan and go over to the attack with the other two wings? We have them boxed in. By all rights, we have them where we want them.¡±

    ¡°We do.¡± Alaric, calm and commanding, pointed toward the escalating melee below, along with the growing panic. ¡°There are now only two escape routes,¡± he explained in a level tone. ¡°The lake and¡­¡±

    ¡°This hill,¡± Jaxen completed the thought, his understanding dawning. ¡°They are going to come our way, funneled here by my father and Keever.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Alaric affirmed, a strategic glint in his eyes. ¡°They will come here, seeking to flee. And when they do, we will show them how futile their situation truly is¡­ that there is no escape, no hope. When we emerge, our presence will be a blow that should increase the panic even further and break any semblance of morale, any chance at an organized resistance. The more panicked they are, the easier this will go for us.¡±

    Jaxen nodded. ¡°I understand, my lord.¡±

    Keever¡¯s force had made it through the wagons and lines of picketed horses. The bannerman had stopped his advance and was actively reforming his lines. At the same time, he extended his line to cover a wider frontal area, doing away with the second rank. Alaric understood he was going to try to keep as many of the enemy as possible from slipping around him when he pressed deeper into the camp.

    With Keever¡¯s force, was the rest of the Fifth, Materin¡¯s bow company, another hundred bowmen. While Keever repositioned his men and made ready to advance, these began raining arrows over the enemy camp.

    As the chaos below continued to swell, Alaric¡¯s eyes returned to Duncan as he shoved his way forcefully into the camp proper. Enemy officers and sergeants could be seen and heard desperately trying to organize their troops, to rally them to the defense. The air was now thick with the sounds of battle¡ªthe harsh clash of swords, the solid thunk of shields, and the harrowing screams of the injured and the dying¡ªall echoing across the field and up to them on the hill.

    ¡°The fools,¡± Alaric muttered under his breath, his voice a low hiss tinged with both contempt and a recognition of just what he was managing to pull off¡ªcomplete and utter surprise, the destruction of a powerful component of the enemy¡¯s army. ¡°The bloody fools. They felt so secure, they didn¡¯t even bother to build defenses, and now they are paying for that lack of foresight.¡±

    ¡°I learned that lesson long ago, from you, my lord.¡±

    Alaric glanced over.

    ¡°Against Malvanis and his men,¡± Jaxen added.

    Alaric¡¯s thoughts briefly shifted to Laval¡¯s son¡ªa ghost from the past. He¡¯d not thought on Malvanis in weeks. The robust defenses he had commanded to be erected around their own marching camp had indeed saved them from what could have been a devastating defeat by a superior force. Pulling back from that memory to the present, he turned to Jaxen, his gaze intense and instructive.

    ¡°When in the field, never take for granted your security,¡± Alaric imparted sternly, the lessons of his own experiences echoing through his words. ¡°Always be paranoid, for the enemy has a say in every fight and every move you make. It is best to be overly prepared than get caught surprised and flat-footed like we have done to them.¡± Alaric gestured at the enemy. ¡°Understand me?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jaxen responded with a nod before his gaze shifted back down the hill. He sucked in a breath and pointed. ¡°They are beginning to head this way.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he returned his attention to the fight and observed the nearest, a disheveled group of twenty men. A handful were armed, but most were not. All were barefoot, and a couple were lacking clothing entirely. They were just starting to climb the hill.

    Below, the chaos intensified¡ªKeever had resumed his advance into the heart of the camp, like Duncan, forcefully shoving his way forward, driving the enemy before him. With each wing, the bowmen moved with the infantry, occasionally pausing to loose a volley of arrows onto the enemy.

    A tent caught fire, its flames violently consuming the weatherproofed canvas in a rush. As if that were the signal, Alaric rose to his feet. Beside him, Jaxen also stood. Behind them and through his peripheral vision, a ripple of motion and sound followed as the two lines of soldiers, anticipating the order to come, came to their feet.

    ¡°Captain Jaxen, you are to take your company down and into the camp. You may give the order to advance.¡±

    ¡°Draw swords,¡± Jaxen ordered, his tone hard, voice harsh. The men yanked their own swords out in a massed hiss. The captain looked behind him, scrutinizing his line as he pulled out his own blade and held it high, waving it about for the men to see. He looked first to the left, studying his company and the formed ranks, then to the right. Apparently satisfied with all he saw, he faced forward and pointed the blade toward the camp. ¡°Advance!¡±

    Jaxen¡¯s line of soldiers stepped off and moved as one. As the battle line ground forward and the men stepped past him with disciplined precision, Alaric, standing his ground, turned his attention back down the slope of the hill.

    More than a hundred enemy soldiers were desperately and frantically scrambling up the hill, the nearest almost on him. Suddenly becoming aware of Jaxen¡¯s advancing line, almost as one, they paused their ascent, staring upward, many with their mouths falling agape. Their expressions of horror were plain.

    Alaric, witnessing this, felt a deep, fierce sense of satisfaction swell within him. This was the sweet moment when training, proper planning, and organization met opportunity, and fear struck at the heart of the enemy, one who had been utterly ruthless against the defenseless.

    These men had been wantonly raping and pillaging the countryside. They had sown terror, fear, and death. They had been the only strength and power around, until now¡ªuntil this very moment.

    ¡°Know fear,¡± he said to himself. ¡°Know death.¡±

    Alaric had instructed all of his officers at the beginning of the assault to take no prisoners. They were to employ the maximum violence to increase the confusion and panic of the enemy, the fear. Though, after all Alaric¡¯s men had seen over the last four days, he knew he need not have bothered. The men were already in a murderous mood, and it was now coming out. The enemy would suffer for what they had done to the people of Urburn.

    Jaxen¡¯s men continued to advance on those who¡¯d been climbing the hill and seeking escape, closing the distance rapidly as they marched downhill. The enemy turned and ran, back the way they had come, toward the camp. There was only one escape route left for them now¡ªthe lake.

    ¡°How many of the enemy can swim?¡± Alaric asked himself.

    ¡°We are about to find out,¡± Ezran commented wryly.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Thorne said, ¡°do you plan on engaging with the enemy?¡±

    Alaric looked over. ¡°You mean in personal combat?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Thorne said.

    Alaric turned his gaze back to the growing chaos in the enemy¡¯s camp and began to walk down the hill, his gaze fixed on the battlefield that spread out before him. Jaxen¡¯s line had already advanced fifteen yards ahead and was making its way aggressively down the hill.

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric said after a moment, ¡°I do not believe that will be needed today. Though the killing is far from done, this battle has already been won.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Thorne said, the relief evident in his tone, ¡°because your job is leading.¡±

    Alaric glanced over at Thorne and found himself frowning.

    ¡°It also makes our job of keeping you alive easier,¡± Ezran added.

    The air was filled with a great shout from Keever¡¯s direction as the bannerman unleashed his men. Breaking ranks, they charged with a fierce intensity, a murderous rage and zeal, overwhelming any enemy who had chosen to resist with sheer force.

    Moments later, a tremendous roar erupted from Duncan¡¯s men. It was a sound filled with fury and battle-lust, resonating deeply across the encampment as they too broke ranks and tore into the confused and disorganized enemy with a seemingly unstoppable force, cutting down and killing all they could catch.

    Alaric shifted his gaze back to Jaxen¡¯s company. They were still advancing in their long block-like formation. To the left was Lee¡¯s company, marching forward alongside Jaxen¡¯s. Alaric felt his heart swell with pride, for here was Dekar, his small army being thrown into battle for the first time. The sight of it, the emotion, moved him greatly, almost to tears.

    ¡°Well, that is one,¡± remarked Ezran, pointing toward the lake.

    Following Ezran¡¯s gesture, Alaric¡¯s eyes landed on a man hastily wading into the lake. Naked from the chest down and unarmed, he took several frantic steps forward, the water quickly rising to his waist, before diving in and swimming with desperate strokes for the far side. Another man followed, and then several more, dozens, all plunging into the cold embrace of the water, splashing wildly in their panic to escape the advancing doom that had hammered down upon the camp.

    Alaric thought it a good-sized lake. The distance to the far shore was nearly half a mile. How many could swim that far? How many would tire, exhaust themselves with the effort, and drown?

    Another tent caught fire, the flames shooting into the air, the canvas burning furiously. A third followed. The fires added a surreal glow to the scene. The cries of fear, the clash of steel, the screams, and the crackling of fire created a cacophony that underscored the brutal poetry of battle.

    ¡°Why is there always fire?¡± Thorne asked as he moved to Alaric¡¯s right. Ezran was on his left. Thorne¡¯s gaze was on the nearest burning tent more than fifty yards away.

    ¡°Because, in war, there is always fire.¡± Ezran¡¯s tone was matter-of-fact, his words a simple truth spoken with the clarity of experience. ¡°Just as there is always death.¡±

    Alaric glanced over at the ash man. Though delivered with a hint of jest mixed with irony, the statement rang true in the grim landscape of war. Alaric understood too well the inevitability of fire. It was an element as destructive as it was symbolic, cleansing yet catastrophic. Whether a town or village was seized, the presence of fire was almost a certainty¡ªif something could burn, it generally would, and destruction followed, as did death. Both frequently came hand in hand.

    ¡°Charge them! Kill them all!¡± As Jaxen¡¯s thunderous command rang out, his men responded with a deafening shout, their voices blending into a singular roar of determination. The ranks broke, including those of Lee¡¯s company, with explosive force. The men, released, surged toward the enemy.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze was inexorably drawn back to the lake, where even more were fleeing, diving into its cold depths in a desperate bid for escape. Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he considered their fate¡ªhow many would elude capture and escape? How many would drown? The lake was not just a boundary; it had become a final hope for those fleeing the growing slaughter.

    Stopping, Alaric¡¯s attention was captured by the grim sight of an enemy soldier lying on the ground a few feet before him. Having taken a savage thrust to the stomach and a vicious slash across the throat, he had been cut down by Jaxen¡¯s men as they rushed forward. Lying awkwardly like a child¡¯s ragdoll that had been tossed aside, his half-naked, barefoot form spoke to the brutality of what Alaric had unleashed.

    The soldier was young, likely not even into his twenties yet, a life, like so many others, cut abruptly short. A discarded sword lay by his side, and his eyes were frozen open in death, the terror of his final moments captured plainly in his gaze. Blood continued to seep and ooze from his wounds, darkening the dirt around him.

    Despite his aspirations to put the killing aside and focus his efforts on Dekar, war had come once more to his doorstep. Over the years, Alaric had become good at leading men into battle. That, and killing his enemies.

    ¡°I am committed,¡± Alaric murmured, acceptance hardening within. He turned his gaze back to the ongoing slaughter, his expression one of grim determination. Before it was all over, he would show the enemy the true face of war, the brutality of it¡­ something Alaric knew only too well. ¡°You asked for a war, I will give you a war.¡±

 Chapter 19

    Alaric slumped onto a battered stool he had scrounged from the enemy¡¯s command tent, likely a clerk¡¯s. The tent was just a few yards behind him. Clutching a wooden mug of dark wine, his hand trembled slightly, betraying his exhaustion, the lingering vestiges of the stress of the fight¡ªthe risk he¡¯d taken. Fatigue was a heavy and weighted cloak that had been draped around his shoulders.

    The day had dawned with a brutal sun and rapidly became hot and uncomfortable as it rose into the sky. Relentless and scorching, it now hung almost directly overhead, baking the land and everything beneath its gaze. The last few days had been cooler, but that now seemed done and gone.

    Summer had clearly arrived, and in full force too.

    Only a few yards away, the lake glistened, its peaceful surface dancing with sparkles of light, a contrast to the grim and death-filled scene surrounding him. His men moved through the enemy camp with a mechanical efficiency. As victors, the spoils were theirs by right, but the job before them was grim. The dead, friend and foe alike, were being stripped of valuables¡ªswords, shields, armor, and even the smallest of coins that might line a dead man¡¯s purse.

    Weapons and armaments of various makes were being brought together and placed in various piles. They would be cataloged by sergeants, officers, and Alaric¡¯s clerks, packed up and prepared for transport. Ultimately, the weapons and armor would help Grayson grow the army Alaric commanded be raised.

    Everything of value was being accounted for, including leftover and surplus supplies¡ªfood, medicine, even the enemy¡¯s tents were to be dismantled. When Alaric marched from this spot, nothing of value would be left behind.

    The fatigue among his men was strong. As they shuffled through their tasks, their movements were slow, their shoulders slumped under the weight of exhaustion. Even the usual banter was suppressed. Their faces¡ªstreaked with dirt, grime, dried blood, and sweat¡ªbore expressions of sheer weariness.

    Each step was laborious, every task a monumental effort. Alaric watched them, feeling a kinship in their tiredness, a silent acknowledgment of the victory and the toll it had exacted from them all. He had toured the camp several times, speaking with the men and officers, making himself seen. Despite the general exhaustion hanging over everyone, spirits were high.

    After all, they had won.

    Bringing the wine to his lips, Alaric took a tentative sip, savoring the unexpected quality of the vintage. A small barrel, a prize from the personal tent of the enemy commander, had been declared his own¡ªthe fruits of victory. As the rich notes of the wine lingered on his palate, his gaze wandered over the aftermath, the sea of disaster and victory that stretched out around him.

    Strewn across the landscape lay bodies and equipment¡ªcollapsed tents, pieces of armor, shields, spears, a discarded boot, pots, pans, canteens, and weapons¡ªa strange and grim mosaic. Nearby, Ezran and Thorne stood guard, their presence, as usual, a steady assurance. Farther off, near the shimmering edge of the lake, a small contingent of prisoners, hands secured behind their backs, huddled together under the watchful eyes of their guards.

    The sight of so few survivors spoke to what his men witnessed along the march through Urburn, their anger and vengeance visited upon the soldiers of Averndale. Alaric¡¯s thoughts drifted to those who might have escaped, perhaps a hundred or more souls fleeing across the expansive waters of the lake to the safety of the opposite shore. The uncertainty gnawed at him, a lingering question mark at the end of an otherwise decisive victory.

    How many would make it back to King Thorold and report what happened here? How soon would that happen? A couple of days, longer, a week?

    How much time did Alaric have?

    ¡°My lord,¡± Ezran called out, breaking Alaric¡¯s contemplative silence as he stepped forward and gestured toward the road and the front of the camp. A group of cavalry, ten of Alaric¡¯s mounted soldiers, was arriving, coming down the road from the west. Leading the small column were Rikka and Kiera. As they entered the camp, their pace slowed, taking in the scene, the aftermath of the battle.

    Rikka drew the attention of a man who had been walking and asked him something. He turned and pointed in Alaric¡¯s direction. Peering ahead, Rikka spotted him. She said something to Lieutenant Ganister. Dutifully, he saluted, snapped a command to his men, and led them off to the side, toward the shade of the forest, where the captured horses, mules, and wagons were.

    Urging her horse forward, Rikka, with Kiera following, picked her way through the sea of tents, debris, and bodies, her head swiveling this way and that as she rode. She pulled up before Alaric, dismounting with a fluid motion. Thorne stepped forward to take the reins of her horse. Without a word, he walked the horse over to a post for hitching by the command tent and secured the animal. Kiera also dismounted as Rikka ran her gaze once more around the encampment.

    ¡°Victory,¡± Rikka announced, her voice steady, her gaze fixed on Alaric as she approached the last few feet up to him. Kiera led her own horse over to the hitching post next to the command tent.

    ¡°This is victory,¡± Alaric responded with a heavy nod, his expression somber. ¡°It was more of a slaughter than anything else, but yes, victory. I will take it.¡±

    Rikka¡¯s eyes ran over him, sharp and assessing, clearly studying him. ¡°You did not fight?¡±

    ¡°Not this time,¡± Alaric replied. ¡°It was not necessary. We caught the enemy completely by surprise. They were undone the moment we went over to the attack.¡±

    ¡°What will you do now?¡± Rikka asked as she brushed a strand of hair away from her face, gazing around at the weary men who toiled under the hot sun.

    ¡°We will camp here for the night,¡± Alaric said. ¡°On such a hot day, it is too ambitious to march on and meet up with the supply train, especially after lack of sleep and a fight.¡± His decision was practical, born of an understanding of the limits of his men¡¯s endurance. ¡°I have sent orders for the train to come to us, here, for the night,¡± he continued, his tone firm, yet fatigued. ¡°We will rest and push on in the morning, if practical.¡±

    ¡°That seems wise.¡± Rikka¡¯s gaze seemed to go distant, as if she were not really seeing things. ¡°And so, it has begun¡­¡±

    Before he could respond, motion caught Alaric¡¯s attention, drawing it away from her. Duncan was hurrying toward him, with Keever at his side. Duncan clutched a pad, along with a charcoal pencil. Keever gripped a tightly rolled scroll. Alaric took another sip of his wine. Letting go a breath, he straightened up.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Duncan greeted with a nod. His eyes briefly flicked to Rikka, whom he addressed with a respectful, ¡°My lady lumina.¡±

    Keever said nothing, but his expression was a hard one. They had news. That much was clear.

    ¡°What did you learn?¡± Alaric¡¯s voice cut straight to the matter.

    ¡°We questioned the senior surviving officer, as you requested,¡± Keever began.

    ¡°Marcus Tyabni,¡± Alaric said, interrupting. ¡°I believe that was his name. He surrendered because he could not swim, yes?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right, my lord,¡± Keever responded.

    Alaric had seen Tyabni. He was a big man, with powerful muscles and an imposing presence. With piercing eyes, black hair, and a beard, he had struck Alaric as a fighter, and yet the man had surrendered and not gone down with a sword in his hand.

    ¡°Did he freely talk?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Keever said. ¡°He tried to hold out, but we broke him in the end.¡±

    ¡°Those were the screams I heard?¡± Alaric asked.

    Keever gave a nod. ¡°Him and another officer. Neither survived our questioning.¡±

    ¡°What did they tell you?¡±

    ¡°A great deal, actually. The main body of the enemy army is twenty miles to the north and west of our position. They are moving along a series of roads toward Cret¡¯s Crossing.¡± Keever glanced over at Duncan.

    That piece of intelligence sharpened Alaric¡¯s focus. The strategic implications were clear and pressing. ¡°So, the enemy is ahead of us. They will reach the crossing first?¡±

    ¡°We believe so, my lord,¡± Duncan said.

    Keever knelt and unrolled the scroll on the ground. Using small stones he picked up at Alaric¡¯s feet, he placed one on each corner to hold it down. It was a detailed map of Urburn, one Alaric had not seen before. As he leaned over to inspect it, he quickly identified the familiar routes, especially the one his small army had been using before the attack, Beaver¡¯s Run.

    ¡°We found this map in the command tent,¡± Keever said, having taken a knee next to it. He looked over at Alaric. ¡°They had several, but this was the most detailed.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod of understanding. The map looked new and barely used. It told him that the soldiers of Averndale had up-to-date information on the lay of the land. That meant King Thorold had planned well and likely sent spies into Urburn, possibly the rest of Kevahn, to make detailed charts and maps. What else had he done, preparation-wise?

    ¡°We understand the main body of the enemy is primarily on this road.¡± Keever¡¯s finger traced a line on the map that marked the King¡¯s Way, along with a couple of smaller roads running parallel to it. ¡°The group that we ambushed here¡±¡ªhe pointed to another location¡ª¡°was due to march to the ford at Cret¡¯s Crossing and take all they had foraged with them in the coming days.¡±

    ¡°The rally point,¡± Alaric murmured, his mind racing as he pieced together the enemy¡¯s movements. ¡°They were to link up with their army there?¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord. There is another foraging group, a mix of mounted and foot far to the north. They should not be a concern, at least immediately.¡±

    ¡°And where is Averndale¡¯s army now?¡± Alaric pressed, his voice edged with urgency.

    ¡°They are reportedly right here.¡± Keever pressed his finger firmly against a spot on the map. ¡°However, Tyabni told us that Thorold had a second army forming to the east and just over the border.¡±

    Alaric leaned forward to study the map. The enemy¡¯s main body was close, within a day¡¯s full march, maybe longer. The scouts he¡¯d ordered dispatched last evening had likely already found the enemy¡¯s column and were riding back to him with word. The weight of command, the responsibility for the lives of his men, and the strategic decisions ahead coalesced into a cold knot in his stomach.

    Alaric¡¯s eyes narrowed as he studied the intricate network of roads splayed across the map. Each line, each curve, seemed to conspire against him, all others converging toward Cret¡¯s Crossing and the King¡¯s Way. He could see no shortcut, no way to get ahead of the enemy, even if he marched hard.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    It was logical¡ªstrategically sound¡ªfor Alaric¡¯s king to position his forces on the other side of the crossing, compelling the enemy to engage on his terms, forcing him to cross the river. Yet Alaric found himself inadvertently on the wrong side of the Sken, separated from his own by the river and the advancing enemy forces.

    ¡°A second army?¡± Alaric asked, glancing over.

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Keever said. ¡°It is smaller and not ready to move yet. Tyabni did not have precise numbers but thought it several thousand strong.¡±

    Alaric shifted his gaze back to the map and traced possible routes with his mind¡¯s eye, searching for alternative crossings. Nothing stood out. There were no bridges nor any fords marked on the map, not a single one.

    ¡°There must be lesser-known paths that cross the river, other fords, ferries even,¡± he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. His position was precarious; once the enemy reached the river, they would begin searching for crossings. That only made sense to him. Why assault a fortified position when you could cross the river somewhere else and flank your enemy? Heck, Thorold might even find an isolated spot, construct boats, and ferry his army over to the other side.

    Worse yet for Alaric, the risk of discovery loomed larger with each day that passed, every foot they marched toward the Sken. Survivors from the fight here, those who had escaped by swimming across the lake, were likely already working their way back to their army. Even though he¡¯d sent out men to hunt them, some were bound to get through. Alaric clenched his jaw at the thought of it.

    ¡°Once we are discovered, they cannot ignore us,¡± Alaric said, his voice a low growl. ¡°At least, I wouldn¡¯t dare. To do so would be a grave mistake.¡±

    Knowing time was against him added a pressing urgency to his next moves. Every decision now carried the weight of survival. And yet, with his men badly fatigued, he could not move immediately.

    His men required rest.

    What to do?

    ¡°Not a good place for us to be,¡± Keever murmured, his tone reflecting the gravity of their predicament as he looked over from the map to Alaric.

    ¡°Indeed,¡± Alaric acknowledged. ¡°We will have to see if there is another way around. That said, I expect the enemy to be searching for a way to flank the king¡¯s army, to cross the river themselves.¡±

    ¡°At least now that we know where the enemy roughly is, we will better be able to keep an eye upon him,¡± Duncan chimed in, steady and assuring. ¡°If he turns our way with force, we should have plenty of warning and time to act.¡±

    Alaric gave an absent nod, weighing his options. He glanced once more around the encampment they had taken, his gaze lingering on the tired faces of his men as they worked. Those nearest occasionally glanced his way, studying the group with weary and exhausted eyes before returning to their work.

    He turned his gaze back to the map and looked over it for several heartbeats. The road they had been following, Beaver¡¯s Run, took them almost all the way to the river before it met up with another road, ironically called River Road. That road ran the length of the river, moving both north and south. It traveled off the map to the south, going where he knew not.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze went to where the two roads met, south of the King¡¯s Way by roughly ten miles, judging from the key on the map. He rubbed at his jaw. If he could reach the crossing and River Road, Alaric would have an option to move south if Thorold turned his way. But he¡¯d have to move fast before Thorold became aware of his presence. He continued to rub his jaw, feeling the stubble upon his palm as he considered his options. Then, he made a decision.

    ¡°In the morning, we will march toward the intersection, where Beaver¡¯s Run meets River Road. We will push hard. Duncan, I want scouts sent out ahead, to search for defensible land, good ground, someplace where we can build not only a camp, but a fortified position. If it has a source of water, even better. Also, I want another set of scouts dispatched. They are to travel south along River Road and search for a crossing over the Sken.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Duncan responded. ¡°And what if the enemy turns upon us? What¡¯ll we do then?¡±

    ¡°We will cross that bridge when we come to it,¡± Alaric said, ¡°not before.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Duncan responded.

    Alaric¡¯s brow furrowed slightly, the next pressing concern surfacing. ¡°Do we have a tally on our casualties, how many we lost?¡±

    ¡°We do,¡± Duncan replied grimly, glancing down at the pad he carried. His fingers traced the lines of written figures before he looked up. ¡°Thirty-two injured, five seriously, and four dead.¡±

    ¡°That few?¡± Alaric blinked, momentarily taken aback by the numbers. He expected the butcher¡¯s bill to be higher.

    Duncan nodded, a somber yet grateful expression shaping his face. ¡°Eldanar was clearly with us this day.¡±

    ¡°There can be no doubt about that,¡± Keever agreed.

    Alaric could not help but agree. It was a small mercy in the harsh reality of war, and one he did not take lightly. The loss of his soldiers weighed heavily on him, but today, fortune¡ªor perhaps his god¡ªspared them the worst.

    ¡°How is the accounting of the loot going?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°It is progressing,¡± Duncan replied. ¡°I have some figures, but not all. I can tell you, we took nearly two hundred horses, one hundred eighty-two, to be exact.¡± He paused for a moment, letting the significance of the number sink in as he consulted his pad. ¡°One hundred twenty-three mules, forty-five oxen, along with eighty-two wagons and carts. There are substantial food stores. Most of it is fresh and clearly foraged. We will not go hungry anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°We will have a comprehensive list for you to review this evening, my lord,¡± Keever added, ¡°detailing all that has fallen into our hands.¡±

    ¡°That works.¡± Alaric nodded, then a thought struck him. ¡°Spread the word amongst the ranks. Find out how many of our men can ride. We have suddenly been blessed with plenty of mounts. I would put them to use and grow my mounted wing.¡±

    ¡°My lord, those men will not have been trained to fight on horseback, to operate and maneuver as a unit,¡± Keever said. ¡°Such things take time.¡±

    ¡°I know. Still, it may give us an edge in the days ahead, mobility-wise. If required, they can dismount and fight afoot as they¡¯ve been trained.¡± Alaric looked from Keever to Duncan. ¡°See that it is done immediately.¡±

    ¡°Very good, my lord,¡± Duncan responded, his voice steady and determined. ¡°It shall be as you command.¡±

    ¡°Oh, there is one more thing, my lord,¡± Keever said as he rolled the map back up before standing straight.

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Alaric asked curiously.

    ¡°The general in command of this force was Lord Arno,¡± Keever said.

    ¡°Who is he?¡± Alaric was not familiar with the name.

    ¡°He is the third son of King Thorold.¡±

    Alaric leaned back on the stool. He rubbed his jaw as he considered this new information. ¡°You are sure he is dead?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ve identified the body,¡± Keever said. ¡°Some of the prisoners confirmed it as well. He went down fighting, my lord.¡±

    It meant Thorold, when he learned of his son¡¯s death, had even more cause to come after Alaric now.

    ¡°Burn it,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°And what of the prisoners?¡± Keever asked.

    ¡°How many did we take?¡± Alaric glanced behind him toward the lake, where the enemy were being held under guard. He drank the last of the wine and, leaning forward, set it down upon the ground by his feet.

    ¡°Fifty-one,¡± Duncan reported succinctly. ¡°What would you like done with them? We could put them to work.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± he said, dismissing the idea with a stern tone and shaking his head. ¡°They cannot be trusted and will look for any chance to make a break for it. That makes them a danger to our people guarding them.¡±

    ¡°Then what do you want done, my lord?¡± Keever pressed. ¡°We can¡¯t just let them go. Put them in chains and march them home? A guard will be required for that. If you are suggesting we simply kill them, well then, I am in agreement with you on this matter, especially after all they have done to the people of Urburn.¡±

    ¡°They are followers of Eldanar,¡± Duncan interjected, his voice tinged with conflict.

    ¡°With what they did here in the countryside, they clearly do not honor Eldanar, for they murdered his followers in cold blood, unarmed ones at that,¡± Keever countered sharply, his eyes hard. ¡°They have earned death, even if they were just following orders.¡±

    Alaric felt the ring on his hand warm¡ªa sign, perhaps, of the divine presence of Eldanar or merely his anger rising as debate echoed the tumult within. There were times he did not know what the ring meant but this time, he suspected he did. He flashed back to the scenes of devastation and cruelty they encountered all along the road. He hardened his heart, the decision crystallizing amidst the moral complexities.

    ¡°Execute them,¡± Alaric commanded, his voice carrying the finality of a judge passing sentence. ¡°Eldanar will weigh their souls. Carry it out immediately.¡±

    He noticed Rikka stiffen, her eyes going hard.

    Duncan¡¯s scowl spoke to the inner turmoil that such decisions could stir among even the most seasoned of warriors and loyal men. ¡°With this action, we are setting a bad precedent, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Thorold already set it for us,¡± Alaric said simply.

    ¡°Yes, my lord, he did.¡± Keever looked over at Duncan with hard eyes and held the other¡¯s gaze for a long moment. Duncan looked down. Keever shifted his attention back to Alaric. ¡°I will take some men and carry out this distasteful task myself, my lord.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod of appreciation to his bannerman.

    ¡°I want basic fortifications around this camp,¡± Alaric commanded, his mind shifting toward the next necessary steps for securing their position. ¡°Nothing major, a simple trench and wall, as we now know where the enemy army currently is. Also, have the bodies removed from the camp and dealt with. They are not to be thrown in the lake but buried. Once that is done, the men can stand down and rest for the night. Our supply train should begin arriving around nightfall. The militia guarding the train can stand watch tonight.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Duncan responded, his voice firm as he prepared to take charge of the fortifications. ¡°I will oversee the fortifying of the camp.¡±

    ¡°Very good,¡± Alaric said as he stood, his posture signaling the end of the discussion. His legs protested the effort. ¡°Is there anything else?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord,¡± Duncan replied, with Keever shaking his head in agreement.

    ¡°Then I will meet with you both later tonight,¡± Alaric concluded. He looked over at Rikka. ¡°Come with me, please.¡±

    Alaric gestured for Rikka to follow. A few feet away, next to the command tent, was the enemy commander¡¯s personal tent, the quality of which spoke to the fallen leader¡¯s status as the king¡¯s son. It was a fine structure, larger and more ornate than the ones used for standard campaigning, adorned with a patterned rug that added a touch of luxury to the otherwise martial surroundings. Now, with its previous occupant no longer among the living, it served as Alaric¡¯s spoils of war and would become his own, for it was far better than what he¡¯d been using.

    Rikka matched his stride. The tent was open to the elements, its sides rolled up to reveal the interior; a desk, several stools, and a comfortably appointed cot were within. Several trunks lay open, their contents disturbed, likely rifled through by those seeking valuable or useful items in the immediate aftermath of the battle.

    Stepping inside and out of the brutal heat of the sun, Alaric felt a wave of relief. His gaze was drawn to a large jar on the desk. With it sat two mugs. Curiosity piqued, he picked it up and peered inside, giving it a cautious sniff to discern its contents.

    ¡°Wine?¡± he inquired, looking over at Rikka and shaking the jar.

    Rikka nodded. Alaric poured a generous amount of the rich, red liquid into a wooden mug and handed it to her. She accepted it, taking a sip as he poured himself some into the other mug.

    ¡°It is dangerous executing prisoners,¡± Rikka said, her voice tinged with caution. ¡°Word is bound to get out if you continue such things. Future enemies might choose to fight to the death rather than surrender.¡±

    ¡°After all we¡¯ve seen marching through Urburn,¡± Alaric replied, his voice heavy with the weight of recent memories, ¡°I think we are past that, at least Thorold¡¯s men.¡±

    ¡°Are we?¡± Rikka asked.

    ¡°We are. Besides, I have decided to cultivate a reputation. I began first with Laval, and now I will add to that with Thorold.¡± He took a sip of the wine, the rich flavor a contrast to the bitterness of his thoughts and what he¡¯d ordered done.

    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Rikka¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, seeking clarity on his intentions.

    ¡°I have grown weary of watching the innocent suffer,¡± Alaric admitted, the weariness evident in his voice. He took another drink. ¡°I am going to do what I must to end it.¡±

    Just then, a scream rang out from the direction of the lake, piercing the air. It was quickly followed by another. Alaric did not turn to look; he didn¡¯t need to. He was acutely aware of what was happening¡ªa grim execution of his orders. The screaming continued, growing louder and coming from many raised voices. Those of his soldiers nearest, working to gather the discarded gear of the enemy, stopped and looked.

    Rikka glanced in the direction of the screams and pursed her lips before looking back at him. Her gaze was a hard one. For several moments, she did not speak.

    ¡°You are going to end the killing by killing?¡±

    Alaric met Rikka¡¯s gaze, the doubt in her eyes reflecting the internal conflict he felt.

    ¡°I intend to build a reputation of being unforgiving, one that cannot be overlooked, one that will act as an example for all. I will cause others, like Laval and Thorold, to think twice before messing with Dekar, perhaps even Roderick, my king.¡±

    ¡°You mean with you,¡± Rikka corrected, as additional screams punctuated the air, a chilling background to their dialogue.

    ¡°It is the same thing,¡± Alaric said flatly, his tone brooking no argument as he took another sip of the wine. Dekar¡¯s fate and his own were inextricably linked, their destinies intertwined by the choices he made as their leader. ¡°My ancestors did not build an empire and rule it by being soft.¡±

    ¡°You are correct on that point,¡± Rikka conceded, her voice softer, more thoughtful. ¡°But to really accomplish all that you wish, you know what you must, in the end, do, and it won¡¯t end with Dekar.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s response stalled as he mulled over Rikka¡¯s words. The screams continued for several moments. Then, there was a pause. The final, prolonged cry came a heartbeat later, cutting through the air like a knife, marking the end of the dreadful task Keever had taken on. Alaric remained steadfast, his gaze fixed on Rikka. The stillness that followed was profound.

    ¡°I am sworn to the king,¡± Alaric finally said, his voice firm.

    ¡°You are also sworn to Eldanar, a higher power, and you know what he wants of you.¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric admitted, again feeling like he was being driven toward a greater destiny. ¡°At least, I suspect I do. And as I¡¯ve said before, I do not want it, not for myself.¡± He glanced at Rikka¡¯s growing belly and shook his head. ¡°And certainly not for my children.¡±

    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what you want.¡±

    Alaric raised his mug and took a long pull, draining it. He lowered the mug and wiped his lips with the back of his arm. He eyed Rikka, admiring her beauty, her perfection. His heart just ached at the sight of her.

    ¡°I am beginning to see that.¡±

 Chapter 20

    Placing his hands upon the barricade his men had constructed at the top of the wall, Alaric gazed out at the terrain beyond the fortified position he¡¯d taken for his army. Under the early afternoon sun, rolling farmlands stretched for as far as the eye could see to the north. The fields, vibrant with the colors of ripening crops, now lay abandoned and untended.

    A smudge on the horizon to the east was the forest from which they had emerged two days ago. Alaric¡¯s current position was within a four-hour march of River Road and the Sken. The hill upon which he had built his fort had been too good a defensive feature to pass up; otherwise, he would have positioned himself closer to the river.

    The hill was broad at the top, the tallest feature around, the slope on all sides a gentle grade. A castle once stood upon this very spot. Over years of neglect, likely numbering in centuries, the walls had long since crumbled to shadows of their former selves, piles of overgrown rubble. The keep was now nothing more than a heap of stone out of which vegetation grew wildly.

    Alaric¡¯s men had used the outline of the walls, which were still several feet high, to build new ones, piling dirt up over the collapsed stone. In two days, they had effectively buried the old outer walls, constructing the new ones made of packed-down dirt. The outer side was steep, the inner an easy sloping grade from which to move up to the fighting platform at the top.

    A wide trench had been dug, its walls steep and sharp. It was an obstacle that any attacking enemy would need to overcome just to get at them. The space between the trench and the wall would become a killing ground. A line of sharpened stakes would greet anyone managing to pull themselves out of the trench. This was a new feature to Alaric¡¯s defensive plans, something he¡¯d read concerning imperial defenses and forts in one of the books in his library. It was but one more obstacle to force the enemy to overcome.

    All told, his defensive fort was formidable. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it¡¯d give anyone with half a brain second thoughts on assaulting his position.

    There had even been an old stone well, choked with centuries of dirt and debris. He had men actively working to dig it out, and they were almost done. A half hour before, he¡¯d been told the bottom of the well was already filling with water.

    That was an encouraging sign.

    Not only was Alaric watching the enemy, he had scouts out, actively searching for a crossing, a way to get over to the other side of the Sken. Yesterday, he¡¯d ridden over to the river for a look himself. The Sken was wide and fast-moving, from bank to bank, more than a quarter mile of open water, a serious barrier.

    So far, his men had not found any way, other than to swim or build a raft to get to the other side. His scouting parties reported every single boat and ferry along the river were gone or had deliberately been sunk. He assumed this was the work of his king¡¯s forces, a deliberate move to slow the enemy¡¯s advance and force a confrontation on less favorable terms or at least to delay one.

    He had verified that the enemy was no more than ten miles away, an uncomfortably close distance. Thorold had camped his army within sight of Cret¡¯s Crossing and had not moved. So large was the enemy army, their fires were a distant glow on the night horizon.

    Almost since the moment they arrived and began constructing a defense, mounted enemy scouts had been seen surveying his position. There was no doubt in his mind the enemy knew he was here. Alaric had responded by pushing his own cavalry out, in an attempt to shove the enemy scouts back, though ultimately a futile effort. There had been a couple of sharp clashes between his cavalry and theirs, skirmishes that left both sides wary and bloodied, yet offered no clear advantage.

    The burden of command was a lonely one, and as he looked over the landscape spread out before him, he felt the weight of his men¡¯s lives resting in his hands. Alaric¡¯s thoughts were a whirlwind of strategy, concern, and outright worry. Each decision he made could mean the difference between victory and defeat, life and death.

    The enemy¡¯s strength was somewhere around eight to ten thousand, a daunting figure that gnawed at Alaric¡¯s thoughts and exacerbated his worries. What was abundantly clear was he was badly outnumbered. The sheer size of the opposing force made him feel deeply uncomfortable. He considered falling back, putting distance between him and this army, for the enemy could easily turn upon him. However, he had sent a team of messengers over the river, swimmers, and received a reply that he was to remain in position until the king and his advisors could come up with a plan. That order had come yesterday.

    ¡°Perhaps that was a mistake,¡± Alaric said to himself. ¡°I should have found a way over to the other side first, before sending a messenger to the king.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s instincts were screaming at him to put more distance between himself and Thorold¡¯s army, and yet he had not moved. He was still waiting on additional orders from his own king, who was somewhere on the other side of the river, relatively safe and presumably at Cret¡¯s Crossing.

    This only added to his anxiety. Every passing moment left him more isolated, more exposed to attack. The discomfort with his current position, especially after being here for two days, was a constant companion, and an annoying one at that. If the enemy turned his way, despite his fortifications, he would have to act quickly, to make a decision as to the path to take. The fortifications he¡¯d constructed provided some measure of security, but against such a large and overwhelming force, they were little more than a temporary bulwark at best.

    That said, he was prepared at a moment¡¯s notice to march away, making for River Road and then south. If it came to that, he would do his best to keep his distance from the enemy, preserving his small army for a more advantageous engagement and use.

    He had already sent much of the supply train ten miles to the south, out of the way of the enemy¡¯s reach. This decision, though necessary, left his men on hand with only the bare essentials. Supplies were being carefully rationed, and the lack of abundance added to the tension within the camp.

    Every passing hour was a test of his resolve and his ability to lead. He walked the camp frequently, putting on an act as he spoke with his men, doing his best to appear confident and in control. They trusted him and he them. He could not afford to allow them to see beyond the mask he put up.

    Alaric thumped the top of the barricade lightly with a fist. The farmland that spread out around his fort was thoroughly abandoned. Once thriving with the activity of farmers tending to their crops, now it lay desolate and eerily silent, an empty and ghostly land. The people had either fled in terror or been murdered by the enemy when they had swept through, razing, pillaging, and looting everything in sight. Burnt remnants of homes and barns dotted the landscape.

    To the west was an apple orchard. The enemy had chopped the trees down. Alaric felt a strong sense of sadness at all the death and destruction he¡¯d witnessed over the last few days. The faces of the innocent haunted his thoughts, their suffering and loss a constant reminder of the horrors of war. Families were torn apart, children orphaned, and entire communities, villages, wiped out. The intense sorrow of it all pressed heavily on his heart. Not even his victory over the enemy foraging force could make up for what had already been done.

    War was terrible.

    War was something he loathed with all his being, yet he was good at it, better than most. This grim talent for strategy and combat had, in the holy land, earned him respect and fear in equal measure, but not here, in Kevahn, not yet¡­

    ¡°What are you thinking?¡±

    Alaric turned to find Rikka had approached him, climbing the wall unheard, her presence a sudden, quiet comfort amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, a balm for a tortured soul. Ezran stood a few feet back, his keen eyes always vigilant. A handful of sentries stood on the walls, watching, all out of earshot. They had moved away from him when he¡¯d climbed up the wall, giving Alaric a measure of privacy.

    Rikka stepped up next to him, her gaze following his out to the abandoned countryside.

    ¡°I was thinking it was better to be good at something than just fair,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Rikka asked, clearly seeking to understand the burden he carried. He knew, in her own way, she would try to lessen it, for that was her nature. ¡°What is it you are better than fair at?¡±

    ¡°War.¡± The single word carried the weight of his conflicted feelings and troubled heart.

    Rikka was quiet for a moment. ¡°I understand. War is the business we are in, our trade.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s expression was a mix of gratitude and sadness. In Rikka, he found a kindred spirit, someone who understood the heavy mantle of leadership and the brutal necessity of their shared skill, killing.

    They stood in silence for several passing moments, the wind whispering through the empty fields below the fort and blowing its way up to them. Alaric found a strange solace in Rikka¡¯s presence, a fleeting peace amidst the chaos of his thoughts, concerns, and worries. The days ahead would be filled with more challenges, likely much killing, but for now, this moment of shared understanding was enough to fortify his spirit.

    ¡°In our own way, we both are warriors,¡± Alaric said, his voice carrying a note of recognition and respect.

    ¡°Oh yes. Long have I been a holy soldier, a warrioress, fighting in Eldanar¡¯s name, even back during the days of the Ordinate, marching with the emperor¡¯s armies themselves.¡±

    ¡°The Ordinate? You mean other luminas?¡± Alaric asked, his curiosity piqued.

    Rikka looked at Ezran with meaning. Alaric¡¯s personal guard, understanding the unspoken request, inclined his head and took several steps back and away, ensuring their conversation remained private. She waited a few more heartbeats, then, satisfied, looked back at Alaric.

    ¡°No,¡± Rikka said, shaking her head gently. ¡°I mean me. I fought for the last two emperors, marched with their armies¡­ my Luminary and I went to battle under the imperial banner¡­ the one your family names their own. I was the magic that guarded against magic, that protected the soldiers of the imperial army against other magic users, their second shield. I swore an oath to fight for your family, and fight I did, almost to the very end.¡±

    Alaric found himself speechless. He had known elves were long-lived, but here was yet another reminder of Rikka¡¯s actual age. When he considered her longevity, the thought of it made him uncomfortable, almost deeply so. He opened his mouth to speak.

    ¡°There is no need to say anything,¡± Rikka said before he could utter anything. ¡°I have lived a life that has seen much, more than most, but I am still me, the one you fell in love with, the one you share a bed with.¡±

    She looked at him for a long moment, then turned her gaze outward beyond the wall, her eyes narrowing as if seeing something in the distance.

    ¡°I have questions,¡± Alaric said, his words sounding lame in his ears. But he did have questions. After all this time, she was still a mystery to him, a puzzle of which he had very few pieces.

    ¡°I am certain of that,¡± Rikka said heavily, glancing over at him. ¡°Ask.¡±

    ¡°Where have you been since then? Since the last days of the Ordinate. In all the time that has passed, what have you been doing?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve been here and there.¡±

    ¡°I mean it,¡± Alaric pressed. ¡°Seriously, I knew your people were long-lived, for it says so in the tales, but you have survived many lifetimes, more than a human is ever entitled to.¡±

    ¡°I have. It gets¡ªlonely.¡±

    ¡°I can imagine.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Rikka said, sadness heavy in her tone, ¡°until you have walked in my shoes, you really cannot. A long life is a curse, especially watching loved ones age before your eyes, wither, and die. I assure you, that is quite painful.¡±

    Alaric was silent for a time. ¡°You have loved before? You have been in love with someone else?¡±

    ¡°Besides you?¡±

    Alaric gave a nod.

    ¡°I have,¡± Rikka admitted, the sadness in her tone increasing. ¡°I am no babe in the woods. I suspect, by now, you know that.¡±

    ¡°To another man? You loved another man?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Rikka breathed softly, ¡°and before you ask, there have been elves too. Each one is now gone¡ªlost to time¡¯s steady march.¡± She sucked in a breath and let it out slowly, shuddering.

    ¡°They died and you lived,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°That was their destiny. Mine was a different path to walk. Eldanar made that clear.¡± She looked skyward at a hawk soaring high above. ¡°Alaric, I have witnessed the comings and goings of many¡ªtoo many to recall. That is a tragedy¡­ when memories you cherish fade from the mind.¡±

    Alaric felt a deep sadness well up within him. He had grown to care for this woman deeply. In truth, he did not much mind that she¡¯d loved others, for he, too, had fallen in love and lost. But her story was truly tragic.

    ¡°One day, I will be gone,¡± Alaric said, ¡°and you will continue on.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± Rikka said. ¡°Maybe not. What will happen will happen¡­ what is written is written.¡±

    ¡°As Eldanar desires?¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Rikka faced him fully. ¡°You asked what I have been doing since the final days of the Ordinate. I will give you your answer. For a time, I avoided others. Watching the gods punish humans and witnessing the empire fall apart before my very eyes tore my heart to pieces. In a way, it was worse than losing those I cared for, cherished, and loved. Everything I had fought for, all that I had sacrificed, was in ashes, burned by the gods themselves. So I sought the solitude of places only my people know, places humans cannot walk, paths that are forbidden. I wanted to be alone, to heal¡­ to recover. And there I stayed for a very long time, and I mean a long time. There I rediscovered peace, a measure of happiness.¡±

    Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Alaric felt a stab of amusement. ¡°You became a hermit,¡± he said with a slight smile. ¡°Is that what you are telling me?¡±

    ¡°You could look at it that way,¡± she replied, a flicker of amusement in her own gaze as she placed her hands upon the rough-hewn barricade. ¡°I was healing and simply communing with my nature and Eldanar.¡±

    The wind rustled gently around them, carrying with it the faint scent of the fields, grain, and the lingering stench of smoke from the nearest farms that had been burned to the ground. Alaric thought there was also a hint of death on the air, that sweet fragrance that stuck with one, no matter how far one traveled.

    He now saw Rikka, not just as a lover and companion, but as a being who had seen the world change in ways he could scarcely imagine. Her experiences, her memories, were a tapestry woven through the centuries, filled with not only triumph, but loss and sorrow¡ªsuffering. The thought of it was not just heart-wrenching, but heartbreaking.

    ¡°And what does that entail?¡± Alaric asked, wanting to know more. ¡°Communing with your nature?¡±

    As if suddenly uncomfortable, Rikka looked away. Biting her lip, she did not speak at first. Alaric watched her, sensing the weight of whatever she was about to reveal.

    ¡°There is more to this world than you realize¡ªthings you cannot see without knowing what to search for¡­ or where to look.¡±

    ¡°Like what?¡± Alaric said, wondering if she was speaking about magic.

    ¡°There are places that are unseen by human eyes. In these areas, the nooks, these shadowed corners of the world, other races live and thrive.¡±

    Alaric found himself scowling. ¡°Other races? What do you mean? What other races?¡±

    ¡°Elves and humans are not the only ones who inhabit our world. There are a few who hide who and what they are.¡±

    ¡°Like you, your people, the elves?¡± Alaric asked, his curiosity now tinged with a hint of unease.

    ¡°Yes, somewhat,¡± Rikka admitted. Her gaze was steady, the depth of her knowledge evident in her eyes. ¡°There are others who walk this world, hidden from the common gaze. A few even live apart from it. Some do so out of necessity, others out of choice; all desire to remain unmolested and free.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s mind raced with possibilities. He had always known the world was vast and filled with mysteries, but this revelation hinted at secrets far beyond his wildest imagining.

    ¡°What are they like?¡± he asked, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

    ¡°Each is unique. Some are kind and wise. Others are wild and unpredictable. They mostly exist in places untouched by human hands, in realms of beauty, terror, and danger. To commune with my nature is to understand and connect with these hidden aspects of our world, to see beyond the veil of the ordinary, to lift that which screens all from normal sight.¡±

    A mix of wonder and apprehension overcame Alaric. The idea of unseen races and hidden places filled him with a sense of awe, but it was also a stark reminder of how little he truly knew.

    ¡°Why hide?¡± he asked, seeking to understand.

    ¡°Sometimes, to be seen is to be misunderstood, feared, and hunted. Secrecy provides protection, a way to preserve what is precious and fragile, rare.¡±

    ¡°Some of these races are dangerous?¡± Alaric asked, a note of concern in his voice.

    ¡°They can be,¡± Rikka said, ¡°if pushed. But mostly, they just desire to be left alone. There are dwarves, fairies, gnomes, to name a few, who live in near plain sight. Others who do not.¡±

    Alaric had heard of those races. They belonged to ancient myths, legends, the bards¡¯ song or odd children¡¯s tale. He could scarcely credit that such fantastical creatures were real. Then again, he spent his days and nights with an elf, an alien being. The realization that such creatures walked the same world as he filled him with a mix of disbelief and wonder.

    ¡°Oh yes,¡± Rikka said, reading the skepticism in his eyes, ¡°just like me¡­ they are very real.¡±

    ¡°What about dragons?¡± Alaric asked, thinking of his home¡¯s name, Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest, and the ancient tales of the fire-breathing beasts he¡¯d heard as a child.

    Rikka hesitated, her gaze going distant, as if searching through the mists of time. ¡°They were real¡­¡±

    ¡°Were?¡± Alaric pressed, leaning forward slightly.

    ¡°It is hard to explain. A dragon has not been seen on this world for an age. It is likely they are gone and have faded from us, at least on this plane. That might not be such a bad thing, for they are mean-tempered, unpredictable, and dangerous, even to their own kind. I do know they exist elsewhere, but not here, no longer. There are few left with the power to summon such a creature, and to do so might be a double-edged sword, an act of desperation.¡± She sucked in a breath before letting it out slowly. ¡°Think of it like picking up a snake. No matter how careful and watchful, you might still get bitten.¡±

    Alaric felt a pang of disappointment. Since he was a child, dragons had always fascinated him, their power and majesty the stuff of legends and tales.

    ¡°It¡¯s difficult to believe,¡± he admitted softly. ¡°All these things, existing out of sight.¡±

    ¡°The world is more vast and mysterious than you realize,¡± Rikka replied. ¡°There are layers upon layers, magic, and life that you cannot always see with your regular eyes. But they are there just the same, shaping the world in ways both subtle and profound.¡±

    Alaric thought for a moment. ¡°I should have liked to see a dragon.¡±

    Rikka looked over at him with a funny expression. ¡°Be careful what you wish for, for I am not sure you would.¡±

    Turning his gaze outward, Alaric pondered Rikka¡¯s revelations. He glanced up at the sky and spotted the hawk. He tried to imagine a dragon soaring high above. What would that look like? Akin to a bird, only larger? The thought of it filled him with a tinge of longing for a world that was more magical and mysterious than he had ever believed.

    ¡°It would be something to see,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Ezran called, drawing Alaric¡¯s attention back to the present.

    Alaric turned and saw Duncan approaching with Jasper. His heart quickened as both men jogged over and then climbed the reverse slope of the wall. Jasper was dusty and dirty from the road, looking utterly spent and exhausted, as if he hadn¡¯t slept much in the last day, which Alaric thought very possible.

    ¡°My lord,¡± Jasper said, his voice filled with exhaustion as he bowed. ¡°I have word from the king.¡±

    ¡°What did he have to say?¡± Alaric asked, urgency in his tone.

    ¡°His army is coming here. They will be crossing the river tonight, just miles from this position. Lord Laval and the king intend on surprising the enemy.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Alaric asked, thoroughly shocked and confused. He could not believe what he was hearing. ¡°The king is coming here, with his army?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jasper replied, ¡°he is.¡±

    ¡°How will they accomplish this?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°How will they get across the river?¡±

    ¡°They have taken and seized all the boats along the Sken for at least fifty miles in either direction,¡± Jasper explained. ¡°The king intends on using several dozen to move the army across the river in the dead of night. He asks that you provide a cavalry screen to keep the enemy from seeing what is happening.¡±

    Alaric found his surprise growing. Why would Roderick do that? His own scouts had told him the king¡¯s army had dug in on the other side of the river, blocking access via the ford. Why give up that advantage? This made no sense to him. What opportunity did the king see that he did not?

    ¡°The king has spies in the enemy¡¯s army. He has learned Thorold will begin marching on you just after sundown,¡± Jasper explained. ¡°Since discovering you here and studying the fort you¡¯ve built, my lord, the enemy have been building scaling ladders. They will attack come dawn tomorrow. The king orders you to hold until relieved, to hold at all costs.¡±

    Alaric suddenly understood Thorold¡¯s delay in moving. They were preparing the tools for assaulting his position. He glanced at Duncan. The other man looked terribly unhappy. Duncan¡¯s face was set in a deep frown, his brow furrowed with concern. ¡°A river crossing will not be an easy undertaking. For an army the size of the king¡¯s, it will consume time, maybe too much to do us any good.¡±

    Alaric nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. The enemy would be upon them by dawn, and they would have to hold the line until the king¡¯s forces could cross the river, form up, and march to their aid. The logistics of shifting such a large force across a wide, fast-moving river like the Sken were daunting. As Duncan had hinted, it would be a race against time, one Alaric was unsure his own king could win.

    ¡°Duke Laval seemed very sure a rapid crossing could be accomplished,¡± Jasper said. ¡°He sold the king on the idea, my lord. The army was preparing to move even before I left. The idea is for the enemy to become fixed upon us here, to throw themselves against our defenses.¡±

    ¡°To blood the enemy,¡± Duncan said.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Jasper said. ¡°Once assembled and out of view, the king will march his army and surprise the enemy, hitting them while they are assaulting this fort, sometime after dawn.¡±

    ¡°There is so much wrong with this plan,¡± Duncan said, frustration clear in his voice, ¡°I cannot express it adequately.¡±

    ¡°Agreed,¡± Alaric said, looking over the camp, particularly at the newly built walls. Though his fortifications were strong and powerful, he had not meant to hold the enemy here, to stop them, yet that was what the king was now asking of him.

    Alaric studied the wall upon which he stood, his gaze sweeping across the fighting platform and rough wooden barricade. The wall rose to about twelve feet in height. Ten feet beyond the wall, a trench eight feet deep and five feet wide had been dug.

    Alaric¡¯s mind raced through the potential weaknesses and strengths of their position. The walls, though sturdy, were not impenetrable and, given sufficient time, were simply not strong enough to withstand Thorold¡¯s army. The enemy would eventually overcome them.

    ¡°What are you thinking, my lord?¡± Duncan asked, his eyes searching Alaric¡¯s face.

    ¡°I am thinking we¡¯ll need to hold this place for a spell,¡± Alaric said, not much liking the words as he spoke them, let alone the thought of doing what the king wanted. He had a little over twelve hundred men against nearly ten thousand of the enemy. Even with solid defenses, those were not good odds.

    ¡°But how?¡± Duncan asked, stepping up to the barricade and looking down into the trench that had been dug on the gentle slope of the hill. Anger had crept into the bannerman¡¯s voice. ¡°If the king is late or there are complications crossing, it¡¯s our asses here on the line, not theirs. We will be the ones doing the dying, not them.¡±

    ¡°Our king wants us to hold out, and that is what we will do,¡± Alaric said firmly. The king had made the decision for him. He was oathbound, and Alaric would do his very best to carry out his orders. He placed a hand upon his sword hilt and gestured at the wall. ¡°We are going to have to put the men back to work. I want the wall doubled in height, the fighting platform and barricade raised. If they¡¯ve prepared scaling ladders, improving our defenses might throw off their plans some, delay their initial assault.¡± Alaric patted the wooden stakes that topped the outer edge of the wall. ¡°I also want the trench deepened by five feet and widened by another five. Let¡¯s make it as difficult as possible to cross and climb the walls, to scale them and break into our camp. More sharpened stakes are to be planted within the trench too. I want it to look like a porcupine¡¯s back.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a lot of work, my lord,¡± Duncan said, his tone filled with his concern. ¡°We may not be finished when the enemy arrives.¡±

    ¡°I know,¡± Alaric replied, his voice steady. ¡°But it¡¯s what we must do. Focus on the wall first. Above everything else, I want it raised. We need every advantage we can get. If the enemy breaches our defenses, it could mean the end for us all. We need to make this place as impregnable and as difficult to overcome as possible.¡± He paused and glanced outward. ¡°I also want trouser pits dug beyond the trench, out in the fields.¡±

    ¡°Trouser pits,¡± Rikka said. ¡°What are they?¡±

    ¡°My lady, you dig a small hole, several inches deep,¡± Duncan explained, his voice carrying the weight of hard-earned knowledge, ¡°and place a sharpened stake in it. Then you cover it over with leaves or grass. It will cripple a man or a horse who has the misfortune to step in it.¡±

    ¡°Ah.¡± Rikka nodded her understanding.

    ¡°Then there is water,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Duncan said, turning back to Alaric. ¡°We will have to top our water supplies off. We already have a week¡¯s supply on hand, in barrels with capacity for at least three weeks. I will make sure that happens as well, that we get them filled. There is a stream a short way off. I don¡¯t think the well is ready yet for use.¡±

    ¡°Call the officers to the headquarters tent,¡± he commanded, his tone brooking no delay. The wind brushed around them gently. It did little to dispel the heat of the day. ¡°I want them to report immediately. We have a lot to do in a short time. I will speak to them personally and lay out exactly what and why we are doing it so they and the men understand.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Duncan responded, bowing deeply before hurrying off, his boots kicking up dirt as he descended the reverse side of the hill with a sense of urgency.

    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± Alaric asked Jasper.

    Jasper glanced over at Rikka. He swallowed. ¡°While I waited to be seen, I heard the clerks talking amongst themselves. They said that King Thorold had brought a wizard with him, that the man had just arrived.¡±

    ¡°A wizard?¡± Alaric asked, looking over at Rikka. She had gone still, her face paling under the light of the day.

    ¡°What kind of wizard?¡± Rikka asked. ¡°Did they say?¡±

    ¡°A Mirca or Mircol,¡± Jasper said. ¡°Something like that. They were talking in whispers, my lady lumina, gossiping. I don¡¯t think they realized I could hear them.¡±

    ¡°A Mircazcol?¡± Rikka asked, taking a step closer to the ranger. ¡°Is that what they said? Tell me.¡±

    Jasper snapped his fingers. ¡°Yes, my lady, that was it.¡±

    ¡°Did the king say anything about this to you?¡± Rikka asked. ¡°Did he mention the wizard, the Mircazcol?¡±

    ¡°No, my lady,¡± Jasper said, ¡°and I did not ask. It¡ªdid not seem right.¡±

    ¡°What is a Mircazcol?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°A wizard who worships a dark god, one opposed to Eldanar,¡± Rikka said. ¡°I had not thought there were any left.¡±

    Ezran and Jasper shifted uncomfortably at that.

    Alaric turned to Jasper, his expression softening slightly. ¡°You look like you are about to drop. Go get some food and rest. I will likely have need of your services later, before the enemy gets here, understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jasper replied, a mix of exhaustion and relief in his voice. He bowed his head slightly and began making his way back down the wall.

    Alaric looked to the north, in the direction the enemy would be coming. Unease gnawed at him. Like Duncan, he did not much like this plan Laval and the king had hatched. But if the enemy did come, if they attacked his defenses, he would make them pay a steep price, one drenched heavily in blood.

    ¡°I take it this wizard is dangerous?¡± Alaric asked without looking over.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Rikka said, her tone hard as cold granite, ¡°but then, so too am I.¡±

    Alaric nodded. ¡°You are the magic against the magic.¡±

    ¡°That is correct, as it was always meant to be.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I will let you worry about the wizard, then. I will concern myself with Thorold and his army.¡±

    ¡°This could be a trap,¡± Rikka said, her voice low and filled with concern.

    Alaric took in the naked worry etched on her face. ¡°Yes, I think that quite possible. Laval may use it as an opportunity to have me removed by the enemy. He may and likely will drag his feet in getting here, crossing the river. At the same time, an assault against this position will be costly.¡±

    ¡°And if the king doesn¡¯t come?¡± Rikka asked, her voice tinged with apprehension.

    ¡°Then we will be in trouble.¡± Alaric let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation pressing heavily upon him. The king¡¯s arrival was their lifeline, their hope for reinforcement. Without it, they were dangerously exposed.

    ¡°We holy sorceresses were bred for war, a weapon to be used to defend and help safeguard the Ordinate. The high priests meant us to stand out¡ªto be a shining example of the gods¡¯ greatness¡­¡± She glanced away, her expression turning somber as she bit her lip. When she looked at him, the sadness was back. It clouded her gaze. ¡°Like you, I had once hoped to put war behind me, to place the tools of my trade aside, but that, I realized, was not to be, especially when Eldanar called me to find you, guiding my steps and yours on a path that would see us converge.¡±

    ¡°It seems we both have work to do,¡± Alaric said, his tone resigned. ¡°Work that involves much killing.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Rikka agreed, looking to the north, her eyes distant, as if seeing past the physical world. ¡°I need to meditate, to prepare spells I have not used in an age, and call upon our lord for his guidance.¡± She looked back at him, her expression grave. ¡°It is important I must not be disturbed while I work. It will take time, likely ¡®til dawn, before I am ready.¡±

    Alaric nodded, understanding the gravity of her words.

    ¡°Ezran,¡± he called. ¡°Rikka has magical work to do. Stand guard over our tent and see she is not disturbed while she prepares herself for the fight to come.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Ezran replied.

    Rikka stepped closer and laid a hand on Alaric¡¯s arm, her touch both a comfort and a warning. ¡°Make those defenses as strong as you can.¡±

    ¡°I will,¡± Alaric assured her, his voice firm.

    ¡°I mean it.¡± Her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that brooked no argument. ¡°The spells I will prepare are meant only to counteract and fight another magic user. I will not be much use when it comes to the enemy¡¯s army. I will do all I can to protect you and your soldiers from the wizard.¡±

    ¡°I understand.¡±

    ¡°I hope so, for if the enemy does have a fully trained Mircazcol, I will need to use everything I have to defeat him. There will be nothing left with which to help you.¡± With that, she turned away and began working her way down the wall. Ezran fell in behind her.

    Alaric watched for a moment, then turned his gaze once more to the north, the direction from which the enemy would come. He felt a hardening of his heart. The die had been cast. The wheels of fate were in motion, the cart rolling forward.

    ¡°Come, Thorold,¡± Alaric said, his voice a grim promise. ¡°Come to me, for you will find only death.¡±

 Chapter 21

    The enemy was on the move. Riding in several hours before, Alaric¡¯s scouts confirmed as much. Their breathless reports painted a vivid picture of the approaching threat, the sheer scale and might Thorold was about to throw against him. As soon as the sun had set, the enemy army began marching his way, a dark tide advancing under the cover of night.

    All around the fort, his men were hard at work strengthening the defenses, their silhouettes set against flickering torchlight as they toiled away. They had been at it for most of the day and almost all of the night.

    Alaric was in his headquarters tent, a sparse yet functional space where maps cluttered the central table. He was reviewing his orders to Keever, for he had a special mission for the man. They both stood around the table that held a map of the region. The air inside the tent was thick with the scent of sweat, lamp oil, and dirt. He had only one clerk currently at work, a young man named Darro, with a furrowed brow and ink-stained fingers, diligently copying orders he¡¯d dictated onto parchment for the coming day.

    The rest of the clerks he¡¯d sent on their way, to help with the build-out and strengthening of the defenses. He¡¯d even lent a hand himself, working for several hours, using a pickaxe to widen the trench around the encampment. It had been hard work and helped him pass the time, diverting his mind from what was coming. The rhythmic thud of metal on soil still echoed in his ears. His hands and fingers ached from the work, not to mention his arms and back.

    Outside the tent, the fort was a hive of activity. Despite their weariness, Alaric¡¯s soldiers, under the direction of their officers and sergeants, moved with purpose, their faces grim but resolute. As Alaric stood before the map, with Keever at his side, his thoughts were still a turbulent sea of strategies and contingencies, his mind working on how he would defend the fort and make the enemy suffer if they attempted to overcome his walls. The coming hours would test not only his mettle like never before, but his men as well. After a few moments more of consideration, he looked over at Keever.

    ¡°Do you have any questions concerning your orders?¡± Alaric asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil roiling within.

    ¡°No, my lord, I do not,¡± Keever stated, his tone respectful and resolute. ¡°I am to take the entire cavalry contingent and ride away to the east several miles, making my way into the forest and out of direct observation of enemy scouts. I will make certain we are not followed before I begin circling around, moving behind the enemy army. If an opportunity presents itself, I am to take advantage of it, such as attacking their supply train, destroying what I can, and complicating their situation. Otherwise, I am to wait for your signal¡ªshould what we discussed come to pass.¡±

    ¡°And if it does?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Then I will proceed accordingly, as you have directed.¡±

    ¡°Excellent,¡± Alaric affirmed, a note of approval in his voice.

    ¡°I have my doubts about that happening, though.¡±

    ¡°I know. You have voiced them. Only time will tell the enemy¡¯s true intentions.¡±

    Keever hesitated, his brow furrowing with concern. ¡°Are you sure the king¡¯s army is coming? If Laval is leading it, that treacherous dog might just find a way to hang you out to dry. Trust me, my lord, I know. I was his creature for several years. Not only is he underhanded, but he is also one who will not forget slights. He holds a grudge. No matter how long it takes, he will look to pay you back in kind. That worries me.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s eyes hardened at the mention of Laval, but his response was measured, ¡°Jasper confirmed the first landings of our king¡¯s army several hours ago. I have received multiple reports since then and communications directly from his majesty. The king has landed several thousand soldiers on our side of the river, with more on the way.¡±

    ¡°That is somewhat encouraging.¡± A hint of relief softened Keever¡¯s features.

    ¡°I think so too,¡± Alaric said and then decided the time for conversation was over. They had procrastinated enough. He extended his hand. ¡°I won¡¯t keep you any longer. Good fortune.¡±

    ¡°And to you too, my lord.¡± Keever clasped Alaric¡¯s hand in a strong handshake. Their eyes met, a moment of shared understanding and unspoken respect passing between them. The mission ahead was a serious burden for Keever, but Alaric knew if any of his bannermen were to pull off what he wanted, it would be this man. He was hard, harder than the rest of his bannermen, almost unbending in his dedication to his duty. In that moment, Alaric was glad he spared Keever¡¯s life and allowed him to continue to serve.

    Without another word, Alaric¡¯s bannerman left the tent. The walls had been rolled up, allowing the cool night air to flow through and into the inside. The breeze from outside carried the mingled scents of sweat, horses, and the strong aroma of campfire smoke, along with the latrines. Bugs buzzed noisily around the lamps hanging from the ceiling supports. Beyond the tent, numerous torches cast dancing shadows across the busy scene beyond.

    Alaric moved to the edge of the tent. Leaning against a support pole, he watched as Keever moved to his horse that had been picketed just outside. Beyond him, arranged in neat, orderly ranks, was Alaric¡¯s cavalry contingent: his original fifty, along with the mounts they¡¯d captured and the soldiers now assigned to those horses.

    He was sending away two hundred twenty of his men, a significant portion of his small army. The absence of their strength was a real concern. In the hours ahead, when the enemy crashed against the walls of his fort, these were men he would desperately need for defense. The rest of the cavalry were out in the field keeping active tabs on the enemy, watching them as they steadily closed on his position. Still, if things happened the way Alaric suspected they would, he¡¯d need these men outside the walls and free to act. He was betting almost everything on Keever. An unsettling thought.

    Keever untied the horse from the post and, holding the reins, pulled himself up into the saddle with practiced ease. He took a moment to settle himself comfortably, nodded to Alaric, and then, pulling on the reins, wheeled his horse around and walked her slowly up to the middle of the first rank of waiting cavalry. His eyes swept over the assembled men, clearly gauging their readiness and resolve. The flickering torchlight reflected off the polished metal of their armor and the eager, alert faces of the soldiers, each of whom stood next to his horse, holding the reins expectantly.

    ¡°Mount up!¡± Keever shouted, his voice carrying over the din of the ongoing work of the fort. The men dutifully pulled themselves up and onto their horses with swift, almost coordinated movements. The horses, sensing the impending action, stamped their feet, snorted, and whinnied with excitement. Keever waited for several heartbeats, ensuring everyone was ready, then raised his hand up in the air. A hush fell over the mounted men. Even the horses nearly stilled, waiting for the inevitable order. The moment was charged with anticipation.

    ¡°Column of two,¡± Keever called out, his voice ringing clear in the night air. He then pointed with a bladed hand toward the camp gate. ¡°Forward, ride!¡±

    Alaric¡¯s bannerman wheeled about and then nudged his horse into a trot, riding confidently toward the main gate of the fort. Ganister came next, following closely. Alaric watched intently as, two by two, his cavalry peeled out of the formation and began following after Keever, riding through the gate, out into the darkness and the uncertainty that lay beyond.

    More than a few of the riders appeared uncomfortable on horseback. They bounced too much in the saddle or rode awkwardly, stiff and without rhythm, but this was his cavalry, and having over two hundred mounted soldiers was significantly better than the fifty he¡¯d started the campaign with. Courtesy of the enemy, each new horse soldier was equipped with a lance, shield, and sword, not to mention chainmail armor that glinted dully under the torchlight.

    Alaric continued to watch as his cavalry departed. In the darkness, the scene was almost surreal and magical, the torchlight casting long shadows that danced along with the departing riders. The rhythmic clatter of hooves on the packed dirt became a steady drumbeat. Within a surprisingly short time, they were all gone, the sound of hooves fading into the distance, replaced by shovels and pickaxes at work, sergeants and officers calling to one another or shouting orders as the men worked on improving the fort¡¯s defenses.

    Alaric looked up at the sky. The darkness still held sway, the faintest hint of dawn yet to grace the horizon. The moon was a thin sliver. He figured sunrise was no more than three hours off. The latest reports had put the first elements of Thorold¡¯s army arriving on his doorstep just before dawn.

    Motion to the left caught Alaric¡¯s attention. He turned to find Duncan approaching, his second in command looking as tired, dirty, and spent as everyone else. After Alaric had set the example, by bending his back to manual labor, his bannermen had followed suit.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t think we would be able to do it so soon, but, my lord, the trench around the camp is complete,¡± Duncan said, his voice carrying a note of pride, mixed with exhaustion. ¡°All you asked for is about done. The finishing touches are being put on the barricade and fighting platform as well. That should be finished within the hour.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Alaric clapped both hands together, the sound sharp in the night air, causing his clerk, Darro, to look briefly up from his work at transcribing orders. ¡°When the barricade is emplaced, stand the men down. See each one is fed, watered, and then gets some well-earned rest.¡±

    Duncan nodded his understanding. ¡°It won¡¯t be much, but it will be better than nothing.¡±

    ¡°I think we can allow the majority to sleep in. It will take time for Thorold¡¯s full army to arrive, let alone deploy around the camp and get into position for an assault. At the very least, that should take several hours. And if we are lucky, they will want to talk first, demanding a surrender, wasting even more time.¡± Alaric sucked in a breath and let it out. He stifled a yawn. He needed sleep too. ¡°Yes, I believe we can stand most of the men down until needed, ¡®til the enemy is ready to jump off into the attack and assault our walls. Let them rest.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Duncan said, though he did not appear fully convinced. ¡°I will pass along those orders just as soon as everything is wrapped up.¡±

    ¡°Remember, the enemy will have marched all night. Thorold¡¯s men will be spent as well. If we¡¯re fortunate, we may even have a day before they attempt to overcome the walls, especially considering all we have done to strengthen our defenses. By then, with some good fortune, the king¡¯s army should be here.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Duncan said, his tone hopeful yet cautious. ¡°I pray it is so.¡±

    The camp was a hive of activity, men moving with purpose, their faces lit by the flickering torchlight. Satisfied with all that had been done and would be done, Alaric nodded and turned away, moving over to a table with the maps. He moved aside the map he and Keever had been using and placed another before him, one carefully annotated with the coming dispositions for defense of the walls.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Alaric had drawn the map of the fort himself on a piece of parchment. His extensive notes were scrawled across them. There was also a jar of wine and several mugs resting on the left side of the table. Turning away from the map, he poured wine into two mugs, the deep red liquid glistening darkly in the lamplight. He handed one to Duncan, who had followed him over to the table. ¡°You look like you could use a drink.¡±

    ¡°I could.¡± Duncan took the mug with a grateful nod. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply. He rapidly drained the mug and then shook it slightly, a weary smile breaking through his fatigue. ¡°That¡±¡ªhe shook the empty mug again¡ª¡°is good.¡±

    ¡°Courtesy of King Thorold¡¯s son.¡± Alaric took a long sip, the rich, robust flavor of the wine a brief comfort against the night¡¯s chill. He drank about half before setting the mug down upon the table and looked to Duncan expectantly. Over the past two years, they both had become friends and partners in the development of Dekar. ¡°Would you care for more?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Duncan said, setting his mug down as well. ¡°It will make me tired, and I am sleepy enough as it is, especially after all that backbreaking work.¡±

    The two men stood in companionable silence, the weight of their responsibilities temporarily eased by the shared drink. The wine, a small luxury, was a brief respite from the relentless demands of command. Alaric glanced at the map spread out before them. The lines and notations spoke of his planning and the battle to come.

    He hoped he¡¯d not missed anything.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go through the plans I¡¯ve drawn up for the defense of the fort,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I¡¯d have your thoughts.¡±

    ¡°Of course, my lord. I will help in any way I can.¡±

    ¡°Make way for the king,¡± came a shout from the direction of the gate.

    Alaric and Duncan whipped around. A moment later, a party of twenty horsemen galloped into the fort, the thundering hooves and chinking of armor creating a sudden, dramatic entrance. Alaric could not have been more surprised had his enemy, King Thorold himself, ridden into the fort without protection.

    He glanced at Duncan, who gave a shrug, and then started forward toward his king, leaving the headquarters tent behind and moving out into the torchlit night. Duncan followed. All of Alaric¡¯s soldiers nearby had stopped whatever they were doing to gawk, their attention riveted on the unexpected arrival. The king, mounted on a magnificent horse, was at the head of the party.

    ¡°Where is Lord Alaric?¡± a commanding voice called out from the group of horsemen. ¡°Lord Alaric, where is he?¡±

    ¡°Here,¡± Alaric shouted, raising a hand as he approached, his pulse quickening. He recognized that voice. As the rider turned to look in his direction, the torchlight revealed the face of Malvanis, Duke Laval¡¯s son.

    He came to a halt before the mounted party, standing back a few feet from the horses. A tightness gripped Alaric¡¯s stomach as Malvanis and the king dismounted.

    ¡°You should have killed that one,¡± Duncan said quietly to Alaric as Malvanis handed his reins to one of the mounted escort. ¡°I fear we might just all regret the fact he is still above ground. In fact, I already know I regret not pushing the issue with you.¡±

    Alaric glanced unhappily at Duncan. He let go a low breath. ¡°Enemy or not, his life purchased time to rebuild Dekar. It secured the peace. I¡¯d say, so far, it has been a fair trade.¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Duncan breathed, ¡°but at what ultimate cost? What will we be made to pay?¡±

    Malvanis took a moment to glance around the fort and said something to the king. His once handsome face was marred with ugly scars, one under the left eye and another on the chin. A third ran along his right jawline. Alaric had personally given the man those, and he did not regret it.

    The king turned his gaze in their direction. Alaric dropped to a knee and bowed his head respectfully. Duncan matched him.

    ¡°Welcome to Camp Hope, your majesty,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°Rise,¡± the king said.

    Alaric and Duncan stood.

    The king was young, barely out of his teens, and in the torchlight looked pasty and pimply-faced, not to mention painfully thin. There was a sickly look about him.

    ¡°Camp Hope?¡± the king asked, his voice high-pitched to the point of being nasally. Clad in a suit of gleaming chainmail armor that fit awkwardly and seemed almost a burden upon his slight frame, he strode up to Alaric and Duncan, leaving his warhorse behind and in the care of one of his escort.

    The horse, more confident than its rider, carried itself with an air of regality that the king himself struggled to emulate. As he placed his hands upon his hips, Roderick¡¯s cloak, a rich tapestry of royal blue trimmed with silver, fluttered softly in the cool breeze, its elegance overshadowed by the uncertainty that flickered across his youthful features and in his eyes.

    Alaric noted the king¡¯s hesitant gaze as it swept over the interior of the fort. The young ruler¡¯s crown¡ªa thin circlet of delicate gold¡ªrested lightly on a head of short-cropped, mousey brown hair, an unassuming symbol of his authority. His face, shadowed by the night and partially lit by the nearest torches, was drawn and tense, betraying his inexperience and the weight of command that lay uneasily on his shoulders.

    The king¡¯s movements were cautious, almost timid. He adjusted the sword at his hip, the motion betraying his nervousness before Alaric. The very air around him whispered of an inexperienced ruler, one thrust too soon into the throes of war. To Alaric, as the king¡¯s eyes flicked about, he seemed overly nervous¡ªlike he did not wish to be here.

    This was the fourth time Alaric had met his king. There were moments like this one he had difficulty believing he¡¯d sworn his allegiance to this throne. But, just as his father, he had, and Alaric took that very seriously, no matter what others like Rikka thought. Alaric took a step closer, his expression respectful. ¡°Your majesty, we are honored by your presence. As commanded, we have been preparing for the enemy¡¯s arrival and are ready to hold until relieved.¡±

    King Roderick¡¯s eyes met Alaric¡¯s, and for a moment, the mask of royalty slipped, revealing the young man beneath, the frightened youth. The king looked quickly away, then back again. Licking his lips, Roderick sucked in a breath and seemed to gather himself.

    ¡°Thank you, Lord Alaric,¡± he said, his voice steadying somewhat. ¡°We must ensure your defenses will hold. That is why we have come. The fate of our kingdom rests on your very shoulders¡ªthat you should hold out long enough for our gambit to work.¡±

    ¡°Camp Hope?¡± Malvanis echoed, his tone laced with skepticism as he glanced around again at the rough and hastily built walls. ¡°That is an odd name for a fort, don¡¯t you think?¡±

    ¡°Not really,¡± Duncan growled, drawing Laval¡¯s son¡¯s attention. ¡°Hope that, come morning, we are not overwhelmed by the enemy. Hope also we are not left to wither on the vine before the enemy¡¯s might.¡±

    Malvanis frowned at Alaric¡¯s bannerman, a silent rebuke for the man¡¯s bluntness. ¡°You need to better control your dog, Alaric. He should know his place amongst his betters.¡±

    Jaw flexing, Duncan stiffened.

    ¡°He does know his place,¡± Alaric said simply, ¡°which is at my side and to speak his mind to me when he sees fit.¡±

    ¡°And why did you not come sooner?¡± Malvanis countered, turning his gaze from Duncan to Alaric. ¡°My father could have used your men sooner. This small army you have managed to gather together would have come in handy when we met the enemy in battle.¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± the king agreed, ¡°we could have used your men. There is no doubt about that.¡±

    ¡°I sent word, your majesty,¡± Alaric said, ¡°explaining your messenger did not arrive.¡±

    ¡°I had received that missive,¡± the king said. ¡°Still, I and others found it a curious thing. There are those in court who have questions.¡±

    ¡°I have questions, myself,¡± Alaric said, turning his gaze to Malvanis.

    ¡°I am sure you do,¡± Malvanis replied, a hint of a smile on his scarred face.

    ¡°Still, as I said, it is a curious thing,¡± the king repeated as he glanced between the two of them.

    ¡°I¡¯d say convenient is more appropriate.¡± Malvanis extended his arms to encompass the fort. ¡°And now, you are positioned to be the hero of the day, holding Camp Hope against terrible odds, defending her walls valiantly. No doubt you will drape yourself in glory before the sun sets.¡±

    ¡°Are you implying something?¡± Alaric asked, hardening his tone. ¡°If so, I would have it out in the open between us.¡±

    ¡°Am I?¡± Malvanis asked with an infuriating air of innocence. ¡°I had not noticed.¡±

    ¡°If you are insinuating a lack of honor upon my actions,¡± Alaric said coldly, ¡°I will be forced to take issue with you and yours.¡±

    ¡°Will you?¡± Malvanis asked, his hand slipping to his sword hilt and resting lightly upon it.

    ¡°Yes,¡± Alaric said simply, ¡°and we both know how that went last time.¡±

    ¡°I do not question your honor, Lord Alaric,¡± the king said hastily, holding his hands up. ¡°You came with a significant force and that is what matters, that and you are here and prepared to fight for Kevahn. With me, your honor is more than satisfied.¡±

    ¡°Thank you, your majesty.¡± Alaric inclined his head respectfully.

    ¡°We have come to see your preparations for defense,¡± the king said, attempting to project authority despite the uncertainty in his eyes as he glanced almost nervously in Malvanis¡¯s direction. ¡°I will not have my own fight amongst themselves. There is enough of that as it is, isn¡¯t there, Malvanis?¡±

    ¡°Aye,¡± Malvanis added, his tone clipped, turning his gaze to the king and then back to Alaric. ¡°We want to make sure you can hold until we come in strength.¡±

    ¡°Just as long as you are prompt,¡± Duncan said sourly. ¡°I suppose we will hold long enough in such an event.¡±

    Speaking his mind or not, Alaric shot Duncan a warning look, silently urging him to hold his tongue before the king. He then turned back to Malvanis, adopting a more cordial tone. ¡°So good to see you again, Malvanis. I have missed your company. It has been far too long.¡±

    ¡°Not long enough,¡± Malvanis groused. Though his face was expressionless, Alaric could read the hatred in the other¡¯s eyes, the pure loathing. ¡°My father sends his regards.¡±

    ¡°And where is your father?¡± Alaric asked, his tone carefully neutral. ¡°Instead of sending you, I would have expected him to come himself to survey and assess our defenses.¡±

    ¡°At the crossing,¡± Malvanis replied curtly. ¡°He is overseeing the movement of the army. That is his priority.¡±

    ¡°Already we have four thousand men over on this side of the Sken,¡± the king announced, a note of pride in his voice. ¡°Soon there will be more, many more, and the enemy has no idea.¡±

    ¡°How large is your army, your majesty?¡± Alaric inquired. ¡°How many have you brought?¡±

    ¡°About eight thousand men,¡± Malvanis answered for the king. ¡°With yours, we have over nine thousand.¡±

    ¡°Less than the enemy,¡± Alaric noted, his brow furrowing in concern.

    ¡°We were compelled to leave a substantial force guarding Cret¡¯s Crossing, in the event Thorold turns back and tries to force his way over to the other side,¡± Malvanis explained. ¡°Surprise is what we are looking to achieve here. That will even things out and weigh them in our favor.¡±

    ¡°Yes, surprise,¡± the king echoed, glancing around the camp once more. He turned his gaze for a moment to the gate and looked at it longingly. ¡°We must have surprise on our side. They cannot learn we have crossed over the Sken.¡±

    ¡°We will surprise them completely, you majesty,¡± Malvanis said.

    Did the king even realize the enemy got a vote when it came to battle, a say in how things went down? Alaric thought that a good question.

    ¡°Since you are here to see our defensive preparations, would you like a tour of the fortifications, your majesty, see all that we have accomplished in the last few hours and how we will defend this position, hold it until your army arrives?¡±

    ¡°I would,¡± the king said and glanced once more in the direction of the gate, ¡°then we must be back to the army. I cannot tarry long here. There is much that I must oversee, much that Laval needs my help with. Our scouts have also reported enemy cavalry in the area. I believe we saw such a column riding off to the east when we arrived.¡±

    ¡°It seemed like a rather large force,¡± Malvanis admitted. ¡°When we leave, we will have to be on guard and watchful on the way back to the army.¡±

    Glancing at Malvanis, Alaric wondered if the king was overseeing anything at all. It seemed more likely Laval was running the show. He did not mention that the cavalry the king and Malvanis had seen was likely Keever moving to carry out his orders. Alaric saw no need to tell them either.

    Instead of responding, Alaric gestured toward the north wall. ¡°Shall we begin the tour?¡±

    ¡°Yes, please.¡± The king turned in the indicated direction.

    ¡°I will keep it as brief as possible, your majesty, and have you on your way posthaste.¡±

    ¡°I appreciate that, Lord Alaric,¡± Roderick said.

    As Alaric was about to lead the way, he caught a look from Malvanis directed toward the king, one of undisguised disgust, before it shifted to Alaric. Their gazes locked. In the other¡¯s eyes, Alaric again read hate and a promise for vengeance¡ªa coming reckoning.

    Perhaps Duncan had been right, that allowing Malvanis to live was a mistake? How would that come back to bite him?

    ¡°Now, let us see this fort you have constructed,¡± the king said, drawing Alaric¡¯s attention once more.

    ¡°Yes, your majesty,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I learned how to construct such defenses during the Crusade. They proved their worth there, especially toward the end, when the heathens outnumbered us. This way, please.¡± Alaric extended a hand and began leading the way. ¡°I will show you the walls, and from there, under the moonlight we will be able to see the trench my men have dug.¡±

    Alaric led the king and Malvanis away, Duncan following closely. After a few steps, Alaric saw Ezran trailing just behind Laval¡¯s son, his eyes wary and watchful of the man. The ash man¡¯s hand was hovering close to his dagger, as if ready to draw it in a moment¡¯s notice.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze met Malvanis¡¯s again. He could feel the tension simmering beneath the surface of the man, the pure loathing. There would be blood. At some point, Malvanis would see it come to that.

 Chapter 22

    ¡°I¡¯ve checked the other gate, my lord,¡± Duncan said, having returned to Alaric at a jog. He was slightly winded from his run. ¡°With this group here¡±¡ªDuncan waved out beyond the gate that faced north, where Alaric was standing¡ª¡°there only look to be six hundred total, another three hundred watching the southern gate.¡±

    Alaric gave an unhappy nod as his gaze swept once more over the enemy infantry standing five hundred yards from the north gate, just milling about. They had clearly been allowed to fall out of formation and weren¡¯t doing a whole lot. With them was a series of wagons and mules carrying their gear.

    The sun had just begun to rise, casting long shadows across the landscape. The air was still crisp and cool, with the faint scent of dew lingering, but Alaric could feel the heat beginning to increase, especially in the armor he had put on a short time before.

    Where was the bulk of the enemy army?

    They certainly weren¡¯t here.

    Rubbing his jaw, Alaric considered the situation. With the arrival of this force of infantry, an uneasy feeling had begun to gnaw at him, growing stronger with each passing moment. If they weren¡¯t here, that meant they were elsewhere.

    ¡°Thorold has marched on the king¡¯s army,¡± Duncan surmised, his brow furrowing with concern. ¡°That has to be what has happened.¡±

    ¡°I believe so,¡± Alaric said. He let go a heavy breath. ¡°Marching upon this fort was a ruse to suck our king¡¯s army out and into the open. Thorold must have spies in Roderick¡¯s camp.¡±

    ¡°In his own camp, he may also have turned Roderick¡¯s spies,¡± Duncan said sourly, ¡°fed them information that he was going to hit us with everything he had.¡±

    ¡°That is one possibility.¡± Alaric was silent for a long moment, considering the matter. ¡°Or someone who is working with Thorold, someone close to the king, convinced Roderick to take such a risk.¡±

    ¡°It really doesn¡¯t matter at this point. Either way, our king has been outfoxed. He sought to surprise Thorold, but he is the one in for a shock.¡±

    Alaric could not disagree with that.

    ¡°Look.¡± Duncan pointed abruptly, his gaze sharpening. He was indicating a spot beyond the enemy infantry. Off in the distance and coming over a small rise, a party of riders appeared, perhaps twenty strong. They were galloping forward with determined speed. A large banner was held by one of the horsemen. As the party drew nearer, Alaric saw it bore the emblem of a red raven perched atop a black tower. The man riding at the forefront wore armor that gleamed brilliantly under the morning sunlight, catching and reflecting it in dazzling silver flashes. Alaric suspected he knew the identity of this rider.

    The party of horsemen stopped at the infantry, and the man leading them spoke briefly to someone who was clearly an officer, for the man¡¯s armor appeared to be a cut above the rest. The officer gestured at the fort, replying. Then the lead rider in the silver armor nudged his horse forward several paces before pulling his mount up to a halt. He regarded the fort for several heartbeats. Turning in the saddle, he looked back and issued what was clearly an order.

    Alaric glanced to Duncan, who gave a shrug. At the moment, there were only a handful of men manning the walls of the fort. The remainder of Alaric¡¯s small army was sleeping, catching what rest they could. They needed it after all the work they¡¯d done. As a result, the walls seemed almost bare.

    A rider broke off from the group and trotted toward the fort. The rider¡¯s approach was measured, deliberate, aiming directly for the gate, over which Alaric and Duncan stood. He pulled his horse to a stop within calling distance.

    ¡°What do you want?¡± Duncan asked, before the man could say anything.

    ¡°I would speak with the man in command of this fort,¡± the rider replied, his tone equally resolute. ¡°Lord Alaric of Dekar.¡±

    Duncan glanced over at Alaric in question.

    How had the enemy known who commanded here? That question was clearly on both their minds.

    ¡°You are speaking to him,¡± Duncan said after a moment¡¯s pause, with a hand indicating Alaric. ¡°Here stands the Earl of Dekar.¡±

    The rider inclined his head slightly in a gesture of respect toward Alaric.

    ¡°King Thorold wishes to converse with you, my lord,¡± the man said. ¡°By Eldanar¡¯s name and those of the other gods, he will guarantee your safety during these talks, if you would do him the honor of guaranteeing his. You may come armed, but there shall be no violence. Those are the only terms.¡±

    Alaric looked past the messenger, at the man in the shining silver armor, studying him from a distance. Thorold was more than two hundred yards away, his features nearly indistinguishable in the morning light. Yet it was clear Averndale¡¯s king had come to speak with him. Duncan gave a low whistle, the sound almost lost in the stillness of the morning.

    ¡°I will not surrender this fort,¡± Alaric declared, his voice carrying the weight of his resolve as he looked back to the messenger. ¡°If that is what your king desires, he is wasting his time.¡±

    ¡°He does not ask that of you, not yet,¡± the man called back, his voice steady. ¡°He wishes just to talk. That is all¡ªhalfway between your fort and our men. You may bring one guard to satisfy honor, as will he¡ªnothing more, nothing less.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s mind raced as he considered the offer. A parley could be a trap, but it could also be an opportunity to learn something valuable, actionable. He glanced at Duncan.

    ¡°See any problems with me going out there and speaking to Thorold?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± Duncan admitted as he let go a breath. ¡°But I think you should still go, see what the bastard has to say.¡±

    ¡°Very well,¡± Alaric said at last, shifting his attention to the messenger. He raised his voice, ¡°I shall speak with your king. On Eldanar¡¯s name, there shall be no violence started on my behalf. Good enough?¡±

    ¡°Thank you, my lord.¡± The rider nodded in acknowledgment and turned his horse, trotting back the way he¡¯d come.

    ¡°Do you wish to delay some?¡± Duncan asked.

    ¡°If Thorold has sent his army on to attack our king, I see no reason to drag things out. Open the gate and run planks over the trench. Let¡¯s get this over and done with.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Duncan said, moving swiftly down the wall. ¡°Open the gate! Run out the planks.¡±

    Men rushed forward to the locking bar, lifting the heavy piece of wood off and away as several others worked to open the gates. The sound of poorly oiled metal filled the air as the hinges began to move.

    Alaric looked over at Thorne and Ezran, who were both standing at the wall. Rikka had just arrived, along with Kiera. She appeared tired, weary, and spent.

    ¡°King Thorold?¡± Rikka asked, glancing out at the infantry beyond the gate.

    ¡°He wishes to speak with me,¡± Alaric said.

    Rikka¡¯s gaze traveled out into the field. ¡°The wizard is not with him. You need not worry about that.¡±

    ¡°How can you tell?¡± Alaric asked. ¡°How do you know he is not out there?¡±

    ¡°Were another magic user close, holding on to vast amounts of power, I would be able to sense his presence, his proximity to me.¡± Her eyes scanned the horizon. ¡°He would stand out like a bonfire on a dark night. Like Thorold¡¯s army, the wizard is not here.¡±

    ¡°Right.¡± Alaric glanced out at his enemy. It was time to go and get the parley done. ¡°Ezran, you are with me.¡±

    The former ash man gave a solemn nod. Alaric turned his gaze back to Rikka. Her eyes were grave, forbidding, and cold. She had been meditating and preparing her spells all night. This was the first he¡¯d seen her this morning. She gave him a small nod as the gate creaked open wider, the sound resonating like a groan from the depths of the ground.

    Alaric made his way down the back side of the wall as a team of men rushed forward through the now open gate, laying a series of wooden planks across the trench. The men worked quickly, their movements precise and coordinated, creating a makeshift bridge over the defensive obstacle.

    As he and Ezran approached the gate, Alaric could feel the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The morning sun continued to rise, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly across the terrain outside the fort, echoing the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Duncan stood by the gate, his expression resolute. Thorne came to stand beside Alaric¡¯s bannerman.

    ¡°I will have a team ready in the event of trouble,¡± Duncan said, his tone filled with resolve, ¡°to rush to your aid, my lord.¡±

    ¡°And I will be with them,¡± Thorne affirmed.

    Instead of replying, Alaric nodded absently, his eyes fixed on the figure across the way. King Thorold had dismounted and was now walking across the open field toward the fort, his regal and entitled bearing evident in every step. Another man followed close on his heels, the officer the king had spoken with when he first arrived. Alaric started forward, passing under the gate and making his way over the planks, which thunked hollowly. Ezran was close behind, his movements silent and assured.

    Stepping out into no-man¡¯s-land, Alaric walked toward Thorold, who had already reached the midway point and stopped. As he moved, he kept an eye on the ground for the trouser pits his men had dug and concealed just beyond the trench.

    ¡°Do you want him dead?¡± Ezran asked quietly as they walked through the grass, which hissed with every step. His voice was calm, almost casual, but there was a deadly edge to it. ¡°I can try with my knife, a toss.¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric said firmly, his gaze locked on Thorold. ¡°I gave my word for an honorable parley and swore upon it.¡±

    ¡°I did not swear upon it,¡± Ezran said coldly.

    ¡°You are still in my service and bound to me. There will be no breaking of the terms of the parley on our part. Now is not the time for killing, only talking.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    ¡°And if he has other ideas?¡±

    ¡°That, then, is a different matter.¡±

    As they drew closer, Alaric could see the lines of age and experience etched into Thorold¡¯s face. He stopped a few paces from his enemy, the silence between them laden with unspoken words. He could hear his own heartbeat, hear it in his ears, a steady drum in the quiet of the morning.

    This was a man who had seen much and endured even more. The king¡¯s eyes met his with a mixture of curiosity and respect. From Alaric¡¯s perspective, King Thorold stood as a formidable adversary. Tall and imposing, his presence commanded attention. Clad in silver inlaid armor that gleamed brilliantly under the afternoon sun, Thorold¡¯s powerful stature was not just physical, but bore the weight of his reputation¡ªboth as a seasoned warrior and a leader whose voice could reputedly sway and unify the toughest of warbands.

    His hair, peppered gray at the temples, and his hard, experienced eyes hinted at significant time spent in the field, past campaigns, many battles fought and won. He had carved himself a reputation. His eyes, sharp and assessing, flickered across Alaric and Ezran.

    Thorold¡¯s demeanor was calm, like the ancient oaks of his homeland, embodying the resilience and strength that had held his kingdom together against numerous threats. As Alaric studied his enemy, he came to the conclusion King Thorold Ironheart was not just an adversary, but a mirror to his own soul, reflecting back his own strengths, experience, and the inevitable challenges of leadership.

    He found that somewhat unsettling.

    Here, Alaric thought, unlike Roderick, is a king, a leader of men.

    The other man with the king broke the silence. ¡°Alaric. Good to see you again.¡±

    Shifting his gaze, Alaric blinked in surprise. He knew this man.

    ¡°Merrick?¡±

    ¡°When I heard it was you holding this fort,¡± Merrick said, a grin spreading across his handsome face, ¡°I could not believe it.¡±

    ¡°I thought you were dead,¡± Alaric said, his voice tinged with astonishment. ¡°At least I¡¯d heard that, and recently too, in Hawkani, when the city fell. I was told you were killed.¡±

    ¡°I heard that as well. I am pleased to report rumors of my demise were exaggerated,¡± Merrick replied with a wry smile and a shrug of his armored shoulders. ¡°They got my castellan, not me. When I heard what was coming, I caught the last ship out, and not a moment too soon. The city fell hours later.¡± Merrick paused and gestured at Ezran, his expression turning serious, while looking at Thorold. ¡°That ash man, your majesty, is his personal assassin, one of a small group that surround and protect him. They call them his Shadow Guard. They are very dangerous.¡±

    Alaric glanced at Ezran, who stood impassively by his side. The former ash man¡¯s face was unreadable, his dark eyes betraying nothing as he looked between Merrick and Thorold. Alaric could almost feel the desire from Ezran to draw and throw his dagger.

    The king eyed Ezran for a long moment, his gaze piercing and contemplative, before turning his attention back to Alaric. ¡°Merrick says you are a fighter,¡± Thorold spoke, his voice deep and hard like the rumble of distant thunder. ¡°That you are a man to be respected and feared. I have heard the same.¡±

    Alaric met the king¡¯s gaze unflinchingly. ¡°People say many things of me.¡±

    The king smirked at that, clearly amused. His gaze shifted to the fort, taking in its defenses with a critical eye. ¡°You have built a formidable position here. My scouts the day before reported your walls to be lower, the trench to be not as wide. Were I to assault this position, I would undoubtedly lose many men.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t make the attempt,¡± Alaric said, his voice steady and unyielding. ¡°Save yourself the trouble.¡±

    ¡°I do not intend to test your walls, not today at any rate.¡± Thorold waved a dismissive hand, then gestured to the west. ¡°My army marches to meet your king¡¯s. I will defeat him in battle and, for the moment, simply bypass you.¡±

    Alaric had feared as much.

    ¡°I will say this plainly. Your king is weak, no more than an inexperienced youth, with little if any backbone,¡± Thorold said, his voice laced with disdain. ¡°Like a prized steer, he is led about by his nose. He does whatever his dukes tell him to do, particularly by that snake Laval. He is incapable of making a decision on his own.¡±

    Again, Alaric said nothing, his expression inscrutable.

    ¡°Why continue to serve him?¡± Thorold asked, his tone probing. ¡°Why pay homage to a man who is not worthy of your respect?¡±

    ¡°He is my king,¡± Alaric said simply, the conviction in his voice unwavering.

    ¡°You could serve me,¡± Thorold suggested, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Alaric¡¯s reaction, ¡°someone who will respect your efforts and capability, not to mention competence, someone who rewards success.¡±

    Alaric found himself thoroughly surprised by the offer. It was something he had not expected. He struggled to keep his composure as he stood before his enemy.

    ¡°Join me, and you can keep Dekar. I may even add to your lands, perhaps give you Laval¡¯s too, if that is what you want. I understand you and he have had your differences. I need someone like you, a fighter, a man of action and experience, a leader I can rely upon.¡±

    ¡°You have Merrick,¡± Alaric pointed out, his gaze shifting to the man he had once called an ally, even if it had been grudging on the other¡¯s part.

    The king glanced over at Merrick and snorted. ¡°He is a mercenary, a man I hired because he had men, experienced fighters I needed for this war, to add to my already considerable strength. He¡¯s only in it for the money, what I pay him and the loot he and his own can steal from the dead.¡±

    Merrick gave a simple shrug. ¡°I am what I am.¡±

    ¡°I need men who are leaders, who others willingly follow, who can make their lands prosperous and peaceful, who enforce my law, my word, my peace.¡± The king gestured at the fort. ¡°I need men who understand war and make the enemy bleed, men of initiative, who will be loyal to me and help me make Averndale strong, powerful, the envy of the north.¡±

    The weight of the king¡¯s words pressed down on Alaric. The offer was a chance to secure his land and protect his people without the uncertainty of continued conflict. It was tempting. Still, Alaric could not believe what the king was asking of him.

    ¡°If I switch sides, you will always have your doubts about me. There is no getting around that.¡±

    ¡°Maybe,¡± the king admitted, his gaze unwavering. ¡°We will have years to work that out, plenty of time for you to prove your loyalty and earn my trust. That said, I have heard of all you have done since your return. Within Kevahn, I have eyes everywhere, have had them for years.¡±

    Alaric did not reply to that.

    ¡°You have constructed new roads and rebuilt old ones,¡± Thorold said. ¡°You have offered land grants for service and for sale to attract people to settle, and they have come in droves. To increase your commerce and tax base, you¡¯ve even built a port where none existed before and seek to expand upon it.¡±

    Still, Alaric did not reply.

    ¡°I am impressed by what you have done since your return. You took an impoverished earldom, one rife with trouble, and made it strong again. You have raised a small army. How many did you bring with you to this war? Six hundred men? Eight hundred?¡±

    Again, Alaric did not answer. He resisted the urge to glance back at his fort. Thorold¡¯s intelligence might just be lacking when it came to Alaric¡¯s actual strength, what he had on hand.

    ¡°Even now, you have a fleet that is preying upon my shipping. Yes, I know of your friend Bramwell.¡± The king gave a grimace, one that was almost painful. ¡°I lost two ships in the last week to him, and just outside one of my harbors too¡­ within sight of the town. If you take up my offer, you will need to call off your pet pirates. Besides, I could use them. I could use you.¡±

    Bramwell certainly had not wasted any time. Resisting a smile, Alaric gave a shrug.

    ¡°I recognize strength when I see it,¡± the king added. ¡°I would have you at my side. And yes, I know you attacked and destroyed one of my foraging groups.¡±

    ¡°Your son died in that fight,¡± Alaric admitted. He wanted to see how the king would react to that news. Would he take back his offer?

    ¡°I know,¡± Thorold said. ¡°Survivors made it back to me, reported what happened, that you surprised the camp at dawn and slaughtered all you could. One man even saw my son fall in battle.¡±

    ¡°And that doesn¡¯t bother you?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Of course it bothers me. I hate losing trained men, especially cavalry. Do you know how expensive horse soldiers are to maintain, not to mention train?¡±

    ¡°I do,¡± Alaric said. ¡°What about your son?¡±

    ¡°What about him?¡± Thorold countered. ¡°Though he was difficult to love, a brute and a bully, Arno was still my child. At the same time, without realizing it, you did me a favor.¡±

    ¡°How?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Arno is my third born. He resents his older brothers and was plotting to overthrow me, not to mention murder them. I was preparing to move against him and have him executed. That was, if he survived this war.¡±

    ¡°You wanted him dead? Your own son?¡±

    ¡°I needed him dead,¡± Thorold said. ¡°If I had done it, the act would inevitably cause trouble with his mother, my wife. I don¡¯t need that. In truth, you have saved me the headache. He died bravely in battle and that is the story his mother will hear and accept, not his incompetence and overconfidence. By not looking to his defense, he deserved what happened. So, as I said, you did me a favor and now I will do one for you. I will give you the chance to live, to serve me and continue to strengthen your lands, to grow your holdings. You need not fight for the losing side.¡±

    Alaric regarded Averndale¡¯s king. Here was a man to follow, one who understood strength, power, and how to rule. Thorold¡¯s offer was more than just an alliance; it was an acknowledgment of Alaric¡¯s capabilities and potential, something that was sorely lacking within his own kingdom.

    But as the allure of power and recognition tugged at him, Alaric¡¯s mind drifted to the devastation Thorold had wrought upon the countryside of Urburn, what his soldiers had done. He recalled the charred remains of villages, the fields laid to waste, the dead civilians, and the haunting cries of the innocents who had suffered by this king¡¯s orders. The ruin and despair Thorold brought upon the helpless could not be forgotten, nor forgiven.

    ¡°No,¡± Alaric said simply, his voice steady and resolute. ¡°I do not think I will take you up on your offer to switch sides.¡±

    The king¡¯s expression shifted, a mix of disappointment and respect flickering across his face. He nodded slowly, as if acknowledging the strength it took to refuse such an offer. The king shifted the stance of his feet. His face hardened slightly. At the same time, it was clear he was not accustomed to people telling him no.

    ¡°Truth be told, I would have been disappointed had you accepted so readily,¡± the king said. ¡°Still, I will not take that as your final answer.¡±

    ¡°That is my final answer,¡± Alaric said, his voice firm and unyielding. ¡°There will be none other. I am sworn¡ªoathbound to Roderick.¡±

    ¡°For now,¡± the king replied. ¡°I am leaving a force to keep you hemmed in here, trapped within this fort, Merrick and his company. Your king has foolishly brought his army back across the Sken. I thought I had taught him a lesson already, one that would force him to the negotiation table, where he would give me lands, treasure to call off the war¡ªbut now, I will go and crush him completely. When I am done, the strength of Kevahn will be no more. All that will be left will be¡­ you. When I am finished and your king dead, I will return and extend the same offer. At that point, you will not be switching sides. You will be free of your oath to the king to defend Kevahn and free to swear loyalty to me. Simply, you will have no other choice.¡±

    Alaric remained silent, his expression unchanged. The king¡¯s words were like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over the already tense atmosphere.

    ¡°Think on it. Consider my offer carefully.¡± Thorold turned, cloak swirling, and began to walk back the way he had come. He stopped after a few feet and looked back, his eyes cold and determined. ¡°Deny me, cross me, and I will kill you and destroy all you have built. I will wreck Dekar and burn your lands just as I have Urburn¡¯s. He received a similar offer and rebuked me. Do not make the mistake he did.¡± With that, Thorold continued toward his horse and escort.

    ¡°He seems rather serious,¡± Ezran commented, irony lacing his tone.

    Alaric glanced sourly at the former ash man.

    ¡°He will do as he says,¡± Merrick said, his voice carrying a note of warning. ¡°I would listen to him, old friend.¡±

    ¡°We were never friends,¡± Alaric replied, his tone edged with cold finality.

    ¡°No,¡± Merrick conceded, ¡°we were not. But¡ªwe weren¡¯t enemies either.¡±

    ¡°That is true,¡± Alaric acknowledged, a hint of grudging respect in his voice. ¡°Though I suppose we are now.¡±

    ¡°It need not be that way. I will be watching you for a day or two, with the companies I¡¯ve brought,¡± Merrick said, gesturing at the infantry. ¡°I will remain until this business is done with and Thorold destroys your king¡¯s army. Think long and hard on what has been offered. As you¡¯ve likely seen in Urburn, he is not the sort of man to take refusal well.¡±

    ¡°I understand,¡± Alaric said.

    ¡°If you want to talk, I will be camped here. We can have a drink if you like, but don¡¯t come out of that fort with your soldiers and make me an enemy. Despite our past differences, I do not wish you dead.¡±

    Merrick walked off after the king. Alaric watched as Thorold reached his horse and pulled himself into the saddle. With a shout of an order from an officer, the king and his retinue rode away, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Still, Alaric did not move from the spot where he stood. The morning breeze gusted, rustling the grass around them.

    The reality of the situation settled heavily on him. Thorold¡¯s threat was clear, and Merrick¡¯s warning echoed in his mind. He knew this king was not one to make empty promises, and the danger of refusing him was quite real. Yet Alaric¡¯s resolve remained firm. He had already made his choice.

    He stood there, his responsibilities pressing down on him, but his spirit remained unyielding. The sun had climbed higher, casting a harsh light on the land. The heat was growing by the moment. It would be yet another hot and unforgiving day.

    ¡°You are going to attack Merrick¡¯s men, aren¡¯t you?¡± Ezran said, eyes narrowing with understanding. ¡°You will break out and go to the aid of Roderick, yes?¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Alaric replied, voice filled with determination. ¡°I will be doing just that.¡± He began walking back toward his fort, his steps purposeful in the swishing grass. He had things to do. ¡°Before this is all over, I suspect I may even have to personally kill King Thorold.¡±

 Chapter 23

    Two hours had passed since King Thorold departed, and once more, Alaric found himself standing upon the wall over the gate, gazing outward at Merrick¡¯s infantry and the camp they were actively building. He scratched an itch on his cheek, feeling the growth of stubble and the tension of the moment, the stress of what he was about to attempt. He placed both hands on the barricade. The texture of the rough wood beneath his fingers was almost grounding.

    As the warmth of the day increased, Merrick¡¯s two companies had begun settling in, building out a fortified camp. They had unloaded their wagons and mules and erected tents in neat, orderly rows, then begun working on their defenses in an almost leisurely manner, as if they did not have a care in the world. Alaric could see the men moving purposefully, their armor glinting in the sunlight as they worked under the hot and unforgiving sun that with every passing moment was rising higher in the sky.

    He estimated that Duncan was correct. Merrick had close to six hundred men between his two companies. He noted with a strategist¡¯s eye how, after the king departed, Merrick had not left his infantry split evenly between the two gates of the fort, where one group could easily become overwhelmed should Alaric choose to sortie from behind his walls.

    Instead, Merrick concentrated his men on the north side of Alaric¡¯s fort, just opposite the gate. Here, his two companies worked together to raise defensive walls and dig a bourgeoning trench. On the south side, Merrick left only two men, both with horses. They undoubtedly had a horn too, with which to raise the alarm should the need arise.

    ¡°He¡¯s no fool,¡± Alaric said, his voice carrying a note of grudging respect. ¡°But he¡¯s always been a little lazy.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rikka asked, looking over with a furrowed brow. The sunlight glistened off her black hair, which was tied into a single braid that dropped down her back. She wore comfortable leather riding pants and a dark blue tunic. There was also a short sword belted at her side. She had joined him a short while before but had not said anything until now.

    ¡°Merrick,¡± Alaric repeated, his gaze still fixed on the enemy¡¯s camp. ¡°He may not be that bright overall and no master tactician by any stretch, but he is no fool. He would not have lasted in the Crusade were he one. He dragged his feet in building his defenses, but he intentionally concentrated his men so I would be forced to attack him if I come out from behind these walls.¡±

    ¡°And if you did not attack him? What if you just march out of here and ignore Merrick and his men? You have the larger force. What would he do?¡±

    ¡°He would follow and strike at the rear of our column, harry us every step of the way. I expect those are his orders.¡± His tone was calm, with a steely edge to it. ¡°He would make himself a nuisance to the point where I would be forced to face him. Defeating that man in battle would take time, prove costly, and delay us from marching. Thorold¡¯s and Merrick¡¯s strategy is clear. If we leave these walls, we must deal with him first before moving to the aid of the king.¡± Alaric tapped the barricade. ¡°But Thorold made a mistake, and it will cost him, not only men, but maybe even everything.¡±

    ¡°And what is that?¡± Rikka asked. ¡°What mistake did the king of Averndale make?¡±

    Alaric waved at the enemy camp. ¡°He should have left more with Merrick, a stronger force. Had he done so, I might have been compelled to sit tight and do nothing. It is clear Thorold doesn¡¯t know our true strength, that they did not get an accurate accounting. Or perhaps Thorold doubted the reports he received.¡±

    ¡°How can you be certain?¡±

    ¡°I can¡¯t; it merely feels right. I am guessing, but maybe, based upon the size of this fort we hold, Thorold simply made an assumption as to our numbers. I just don¡¯t know for sure what his reasoning is. Either way, that was his mistake. But it is an understandable one. This fort is on the smaller side, but that was dictated by the original walls of the castle over which we built. I¡¯ve had to cram my people inside as a result.¡±

    Alaric glanced over his shoulder. Behind them, in the fort proper and out of view of the enemy, his men were busy assembling, readying themselves for battle. There was no clatter of armor, let alone shouted commands¡ªjust a purposeful, subdued energy as his men quietly prepared under the watchful gazes of their officers and sergeants.

    Alaric noted with satisfaction that two of his companies, Jaxen¡¯s and Materin¡¯s, were already in formation and ready to move through the gate, their ranks straight and ordered. The others were hastily falling in.

    His horse, Maggie, along with those of Rikka, Thorne, Ezran, and Kiera, were saddled and waiting just a few steps down from the wall. Sensing the tension in the air, the horses pawed the ground. Alaric felt a mounting pressure to move, to march, knowing his king would soon be in need of his help. Yet it wasn¡¯t time to open the gate and march forth¡ªnot yet. Something still needed to happen, and when it did, Alaric would be ready.

    Materin¡¯s bowmen, numbering one hundred eighty, were the nearest to the north gate. His men stood in formation, their bows strung and ready, several arrows in hand. Like the rest of his infantry, they wore their marching packs, which included two days¡¯ precooked rations along with three canteens filled to the brim with water. However, unlike the rest, each bowmen had additional bundles of arrows strapped to their packs. Materin had informed Alaric each man was carrying at least a hundred twenty arrows. One of the wagons was bringing even more.

    Merrick was soon about to get the surprise of his life.

    Alaric observed them with a critical eye, knowing they would be the first to march through the gate and out into the open before the enemy. He doubted Merrick had very many bowmen himself, a weakness Alaric would ruthlessly exploit.

    Almost everything within the fort had been packed and loaded. Only the tents, some of the food, and much of the water supply, barrels and such, would be left behind, for he did not have room in his limited supply train. The bulk of his supply and transport was miles away and to the south. Tonight, when darkness fell, his men would be sleeping on their arms¡ªthat was, if they lived to sunset.

    At some point in the coming days, Alaric understood he¡¯d have to send a part back for all that was being left behind. That would take time. He¡¯d only do that after the coming battle with Thorold was resolved. The few wagons he had on hand were hitched, their draft horses and mules ready to haul their heavy loads onward.

    ¡°My lord.¡± Duncan came hurrying up, his face flushed with urgency. ¡°The signal¡¯s been given.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain?¡± Alaric asked, turning to face his bannerman. He took a step closer.

    ¡°Aye,¡± Duncan confirmed, his voice steady despite his clear excitement. ¡°I saw it myself. A single rider about a half mile off to the south with a torch. He waved it about some. We gave the answering signal, and he rode off.¡±

    ¡°And Jasper¡¯s men?¡± Alaric asked eagerly. He had sent two of Jasper¡¯s best rangers out of the camp. Their mission had been to sneak up on the two men watching the south gate, the ones with the horses.

    ¡°They¡¯ve already acted,¡± Duncan said, ¡°and were able to bring both men down without a problem. They won¡¯t be sounding the alarm anytime soon.¡±

    ¡°Excellent.¡± Alaric rubbed his hands together.

    ¡°I take it the time has come,¡± Rikka said.

    ¡°Yes.¡± Alaric turned to the officer standing by, just down below him. The man was speaking with a sergeant, one of Materin¡¯s men, and pointing at a pile of stacked planks.

    Alaric¡¯s voice cut through the air with authority. ¡°Lieutenant, kindly open the gate!¡±

    ¡°Aye, sir.¡± The officer turned and raised his voice some. ¡°Open the gate. Hustle now!¡±

    A team of men, who had been waiting for just such an order, rushed to the locking bar. All were bowmen. Their weapons and packs had been set aside and out of the way.

    ¡°Together now¡ªlift,¡± the sergeant ordered, joining them. ¡°LIFT.¡±

    Grunting with effort, muscles straining under the weight, the team lifted the heavy wooden bar out of place and carried it aside. They set it down with an audible thud. Other men moved forward and began to open the gate, which creaked loudly in protest, the hinges and wood groaning with the movement.

    ¡°Run out the planks,¡± the lieutenant ordered before the gate had been fully opened.

    Carrying long planks, a team of men began rushing through the widening gap as the gate was manhandled open. Working rapidly, they began laying the planks across the trench, forming a crude bridge, over which Alaric¡¯s army would march. From the direction of the enemy¡¯s camp came a shout, sharp and urgent. It drew Alaric¡¯s attention.

    The men working on constructing the walls and trench ceased their work, turning to stare in confusion and then clear alarm at what was occurring. Another shout followed, this one an order that set them into frantic motion. Tools were dropped and forgotten as they scrambled out of the trench, up the walls, and into their camp, where they began arming themselves. Even from a distance, the clamor of hurried preparations and shouts drifted back to Alaric.

    ¡°Captain Materin,¡± Alaric called, looking back around.

    ¡°My lord?¡± Materin asked, staring up at Alaric, who was still standing atop the gate.

    ¡°Captain, take your men out of the fort and form for an attack upon the enemy camp,¡± Alaric ordered. ¡°You know what to do.¡±

    ¡°Aye, my lord, I do, and we¡¯ll do our job,¡± Materin replied with a nod of determination. ¡°Won¡¯t we, boys?¡±

    Materin¡¯s company gave a hearty cheer.

    ¡°Here we go, boys. Company, forward march!¡±

    Materin¡¯s men, with the captain at the front of the column, ground forward, their boots striking in unison as they tightened up their formation and marched through the gate. Officers and sergeants in the other companies that were yet to be fully formed began shouting commands, their voices urgent and insistent. There was a resulting mad dash as the last of the soldiers hurried to fall into formation.

    After Materin¡¯s boys, Jaxen¡¯s company was next, already poised and ready to step off. Jaxen looked up at Alaric, his youthful face set with grim determination. His would be one of the first in when it came to an assault upon the enemy¡¯s camp. Alaric nodded, a silent affirmation of trust and confidence.

    ¡°Company, forward¡­ march,¡± Jaxen commanded, his voice strong and clear. He led his company, their steps grinding and crunching in unison. Alaric watched them go, a sense of pride swelling within. Jaxen had grown under his and Grayson¡¯s mentorship, and now he led his men with the confidence of a seasoned officer.

    Duncan was looking on as well, his expression a mask of self-control.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    ¡°He will be fine,¡± Alaric said.

    Duncan shook himself and looked over at Alaric. ¡°I know, my lord. I know it.¡±

    ¡°Good that you do,¡± Alaric said. ¡°I will join you after I deal with Merrick. Better get moving.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± Duncan began working his way down the slope to his waiting horse. He mounted up and rode out of the fort. Alaric continued to watch as one company after another began to march, each moving with purpose and cohesion. Ready to face the challenges ahead, they moved out of the camp, a steady stream of disciplined and well-ordered soldiers.

    Finally, only the militia and supply train remained. The wagons, laden with consumables and equipment, stood ready, the mules harnessed and waiting patiently. Alaric looked over at Rikka. She was staring at him. Her eyes were deep. There was something within them that made him feel somewhat uncomfortable, uneasy.

    ¡°What?¡± he asked. ¡°What is wrong?¡±

    ¡°Mark my words,¡± Rikka breathed. ¡°One day, you will be emperor, founder of the Second Ordinate. That will happen one day soon. God has told me so.¡±

    That was not the response Alaric expected. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and an icy chill shoot down his spine. Despite the sun, the day seemed to grow colder, as if it had clouded over. A tightening gripped his heart.

    He did not want an empire.

    ¡°Wants have nothing to do with it,¡± Rikka said, as if she could read his mind. ¡°Not now, not anymore.¡±

    ¡°It is time to get moving,¡± Alaric said and started down the reverse slope of the wall toward his waiting horse. She followed closely behind.

    At the base of the wall, Alaric took the reins from Ezran. With a swift, practiced motion, he pulled himself up and into the saddle and settled himself comfortably. Then, nudging his horse as he pulled her around, he was moving out of the fort, the familiar rhythm of his horse¡¯s gait steadying his thoughts for what was to come, the coming confrontation with Merrick. In the last few days, he¡¯d grown attached to her.

    Passing through the gate, Alaric surveyed the scene immediately before him. His bowmen had advanced to within thirty yards of Merrick¡¯s camp, arranging themselves into a loose, block-like formation that allowed each man space to release arrows as efficiently as possible. Before each, the bowmen had planted their arrows in the ground. These were within easy reach to facilitate a rapid fire upon the enemy.

    Jaxen had positioned his infantry on Materin¡¯s left, their formation tight and clearly ready to advance upon the enemy, to make an assault. To Materin¡¯s right, Lee¡¯s company mirrored the formation. Jes had not deployed; as ordered, his company had instead turned west in a column of three and was marching off, their mission clear. Leading the march, Duncan had gone with them. Following was Keskow¡¯s company and then Rikard¡¯s.

    The wagons, creaking and rattling, began to emerge from the camp, the teams of horses pulling them forward. They carried his army¡¯s lifeblood, at least for the next day or so.

    Alaric trotted up to the gap between Materin¡¯s and Jaxen¡¯s companies and rode through to the front rank then just beyond, where he pulled Maggie to a halt. Rikka followed close behind, along with Ezran, Thorne, and Kiera.

    Alaric found Merrick¡¯s men formed up behind their half-built turf wall, shields in hand, their expressions a mix of determination and apprehension. Merrick himself stood atop the wall, almost directly opposite Alaric, his posture rigid. Alaric noted with satisfaction that he saw no archers among the enemy, a glaring oversight. It was clear in a moment that Merrick had no intention of coming out from behind his walls. With the amount of force Alaric presented, he found that hardly surprising.

    ¡°He looks pissed,¡± Ezran said quietly from behind.

    ¡°Really pissed,¡± Thorne agreed, amusement in his tone.

    ¡°Alaric,¡± Merrick greeted, his tone lacking warmth. ¡°I sent a rider to Thorold the moment those gates opened.¡±

    ¡°He won¡¯t make it,¡± Alaric said, confidence filling his tone. ¡°I have men waiting between him and you. Also, I regret to inform you your two sentries on the other side of the fort have been eliminated. I had them killed a few moments ago, before the gate opened.¡±

    Merrick¡¯s expression tightened. ¡°It seems we are destined to fight, then.¡±

    ¡°That is your choice, and yours alone,¡± Alaric replied evenly, his voice raised and carrying across the field, so that all of the men manning the wall facing him could hear.

    ¡°My choice?¡± Merrick echoed, a hint of incredulity in his tone.

    ¡°I have no quarrel with you or your boys. In fact, I am inclined to allow you to march away.¡±

    Merrick¡¯s eyes narrowed, his face hardening. ¡°That won¡¯t be happening.¡±

    A tense silence fell over the two groups after that statement. The unfinished wall and trench stood as a divider between them, and it wasn¡¯t much of one at that.

    There was a sudden shout from the camp, sharp and urgent. A man on the wall, to the right, began pointing. ¡°My lord, cavalry! Enemy cavalry on the field!¡±

    Merrick¡¯s gaze snapped around, his eyes widening with alarm. Alaric resisted a smile. As instructed, Keever had come. The cavalry wing was spread out in a battle line, the formation precise, ordered, and menacing. A half mile away, they were moving forward at a canter across an old pasture. Almost directly in the middle of the line, Keever rode at the front, leading his horse soldiers. The sound of the cavalry hooves was a low, ominous rumble, a harbinger of the force they brought to bear. From a distance, his mounted soldiers appeared quite professional and well trained. In reality, most weren¡¯t even competent riders.

    When they were five hundred yards from the camp, a horn blew, and the line came to a halt. The sudden stillness after the rumble of hooves was almost eerie.

    Alaric returned his gaze to Merrick, who was staring at the cavalry with frustration etched on his face. Alaric could almost read the other¡¯s thoughts as he turned his gaze toward Alaric¡¯s companies that were marching off to the west, studying them and then those arrayed before his camp.

    The walls and trench of Merrick¡¯s camp were only partially completed, a hasty and inadequate defense against the force leveled before him. He was badly outnumbered, especially with a powerful force of cavalry on the field, and that did not count Materin¡¯s boys.

    Alaric could sense the unease amongst Merrick¡¯s men. They shifted about nervously, talked amongst themselves in low tones. The cavalry was a clear psychological blow, for it rendered any movement and maneuver beyond their camp utterly moot. They were trapped and at Alaric¡¯s mercy. More importantly, they knew it.

    Merrick¡¯s jaw clenched, his eyes darting between his own incomplete defenses, the poised cavalry, and the men marching. Then his gaze fell upon Materin¡¯s bowmen, and shaking his head, he let go a heavy breath. Alaric saw the calculations running through his opponent¡¯s mind, the realization that his position was increasingly untenable.

    ¡°Still confident you can hold your ground?¡± Alaric called out, cutting through the tension. The question hung in the air, a challenge and an offer wrapped up in one.

    Merrick¡¯s face twisted with anger and frustration. As if in pain, he gritted and bared his teeth. His men, sensing their leader¡¯s turmoil, looked to him for direction, eyes filled with plain uncertainty and mounting fear.

    ¡°I will make this plain,¡± Alaric said, drawing Merrick¡¯s attention and speaking with a voice that brooked no argument. ¡°I will be marching from this place. You will make no move to hinder my movement, and you will not follow. You will march away and not raise your sword against me or my kingdom again. In return, I won¡¯t kill you and your men. Swear to Eldanar on this, and we shall part¡ªas friends. Refuse me, and I will order Captain Materin here to give you several volleys, thinning your numbers and more than evening the odds before I order my infantry to assault your position. As with Thorold¡¯s son, Arno, and his foraging group, I will not be taking prisoners if it comes to that.¡± Alaric paused, for this statement caused a real stir amongst Merrick¡¯s men. ¡°Then I shall march on and not look back, nor bury the dead. I will let the carrion eaters feed upon your corpses.¡±

    The lines of stress and anger carved themselves deeper into Merrick¡¯s features. He knew the threat was real. But more importantly, he understood Alaric was a man of his word.

    ¡°You know me,¡± Alaric continued, reinforcing his point, his tone implacable as solid granite. ¡°You¡¯ve seen me on the field of battle. Test me not.¡±

    Merrick¡¯s eyes flicked between Alaric, the cavalry, and his own men. The muttering amongst his ranks grew louder, a sure sign of their growing fear and doubt, not to mention a crumbling of resolve. Merrick¡¯s men were losing all appetite for a fight, the looming presence of Alaric¡¯s forces sapping their will to resist.

    ¡°You will really let us go?¡± Merrick asked, his gaze going to the cavalry. ¡°You will not have your cavalry run us down once we leave the protection of these walls? I find that difficult to believe.¡±

    ¡°Upon my honor, I swear it so by Eldanar. Agree to my terms and I shall let you¡ªall of you¡ªgo.¡±

    His gaze going to Alaric and then his men, Merrick hesitated. He slapped his thigh. An officer next to Merrick said something in a low tone. Merrick looked over at the man and gave a nod, then replied. The officer said something more.

    ¡°Very well,¡± Merrick said heavily, turning back to Alaric, ¡°you win, old boy. I accept your terms.¡±

    ¡°Swear it,¡± Alaric commanded, his gaze unwavering and his tone rock-hard. ¡°Swear it to our god. I want to hear the words.¡±

    ¡°By Eldanar,¡± Merrick said, his voice steady but resigned, ¡°I will not seek battle with you or your kingdom again and neither will those in my service. I shall take my men from this place and march away after you have gone. I will not follow.¡± Merrick glanced down for a long moment. When he looked back up, Alaric could read the pain in the other¡¯s eyes. It was almost physical. ¡°Good enough or do you want a blood oath?¡±

    Alaric felt a moment of triumph. He could demand more from Merrick, treasure, their weapons, but that would be ungracious. He had humiliated him enough this day. ¡°That is good enough for me.¡±

    Merrick¡¯s shoulders slumped slightly, the implications of what he¡¯d just agreed to clearly pressing down upon him.

    ¡°Very good.¡± Alaric inclined his head, his voice calm and composed. ¡°I would not have enjoyed ending your personal story this day. Once we march from this place, you may go.¡± He paused, glancing back at the fort. The supply train was still emerging, the wagons creaking and grumbling as they moved slowly forward. The militia would come last. ¡°Do you have any questions?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Merrick said.

    Turning in the saddle and looking first to his left and then right, Alaric raised his voice. ¡°Captains Jaxen, Lee, and Materin, as soon as the supply train and militia have fully exited the fort, form your companies for column of march. Fall in behind them.¡±

    ¡°As you command, my lord,¡± Materin replied with a crisp salute.

    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± Jaxen responded.

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Lee said.

    ¡°I told Thorold he should not bypass you,¡± Merrick said, drawing Alaric¡¯s attention once more. ¡°I made a point of informing him just how dangerous you are¡ªthe most venomous of snakes when it comes to battle. He did not listen to me, for I am just a mercenary, and he wants to use you, and badly too.¡± Merrick ran his gaze over Alaric¡¯s little army. ¡°I think he will soon pay for that mistake, for you have far more men at your command than we thought.¡± Merrick paused. ¡°Well played.¡±

    Alaric inclined his head, a gesture of respect. ¡°Until we meet again.¡±

    Merrick nodded but said nothing further, his silence saying everything. Alaric could read the frustration etched into every line of Merrick¡¯s face. The man¡¯s demeanor spoke to the thoroughness of the outmaneuvering, the humiliation of his surrender. More importantly, Alaric knew that he had preserved his own strength and saved time, avoiding a costly fight here. Merrick¡¯s capitulation allowed him to move on swiftly and lend aid to his king.

    Alaric wheeled his horse around and began riding toward Keever, who was still positioned just before his line of cavalry. Rikka stayed behind, while Ezran and Thorne followed closely, galloping after Alaric.

    ¡°Good timing,¡± Alaric said as he pulled up to a halt before Keever.

    ¡°Thank you, my lord,¡± Keever replied with a respectful nod. ¡°I aim to please.¡±

    Alaric gave a chuckle as he glanced back at Merrick¡¯s camp.

    ¡°I have men shadowing the enemy,¡± Keever continued. ¡°As you suspected, they marched onward to intercept our king¡¯s army at the river crossing. The rearguard is likely six miles away by now. They left no one else behind but this bunch here¡±¡ªKeever gestured toward Merrick¡¯s camp¡ª¡°not even scouts, if you can believe that. I made sure before I sent the signal. Oh, and Thorold¡¯s army is marching light, without a train. Lieutenant Ganister caught one of their scouts, screening their army¡¯s movement as it marched, and had him questioned. He told us their supply was left behind, along with a small force at Cret¡¯s Crossing, maybe fifteen hundred strong.¡±

    ¡°Excellent news all around.¡± Alaric glanced back at Merrick, who was still standing upon the half-built wall, watching with a resigned expression. ¡°Lord Merrick gave his parole. He will march on and not trouble us. I expect him to honor his word. Remain here for an hour after we have passed from sight. That should give us time enough to get up the road and make any pursuit a long and fruitless affair. Once the hour is up, you are free to catch up.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Keever said. ¡°I will leave a couple of men behind to watch them as well and make sure this Lord Merrick doesn¡¯t change his mind. With some good fortune, he will simply march off and trouble us no more.¡±

    ¡°That is my hope and expectation as well,¡± Alaric said, then wheeled his horse around. He noticed the rest of the supply train, along with the militia, had emerged from the camp and was moving west. With them were the two bolt throwers he¡¯d ordered constructed. Each was being towed behind a wagon. Already, Materin¡¯s company was in a column and following. Jaxen and Lee were reforming their men, shifting from a line of battle to a column of march.

    Alaric nudged Maggie into a trot. ¡°Keever, I will see you on the road,¡± he called over his shoulder.

    ¡°Aye, my lord. You will.¡±

    Alaric gave his horse another nudge of his heels, urging Maggie into a solid trot. Within moments, he was back and riding by Jaxen and Lee¡¯s men, who had fully reformed but had yet to step off. Rikka had already ridden on ahead with Kiera.

    ¡°Company¡ªforward march!¡± Jaxen roared, his voice carrying over the ranks. As if on parade, his men stepped off in unison.

    Alaric eyed Merrick as he rode by, noting the frustration still etched on the man¡¯s face.

    ¡°Thorold is a wily bastard,¡± Merrick called out. ¡°He is just as dangerous as you. Expect him to have tricks up his sleeve. Watch yourself, old boy.¡±

    ¡°Always,¡± Alaric called back, his tone steady as he caught up to Materin¡¯s men then rapidly overtook them. The bowmen gave him a cheer. He raised his fist up into the air. The men cheered even louder at that.

    Alaric put Merrick from his thoughts, his mind already focusing on the hours ahead. At the end of this march, a battle waited.

    What would he find when he arrived?

 Chapter 24

    ¡°My lord,¡± Jasper reported, pointing up the path. ¡°The battle is just over that hill.¡±

    Astride Maggie, Alaric pulled up to a halt before the captain of his rangers and glanced at the hill that rose just beyond the edge of the forest ahead. Alaric¡¯s army was marching along what could be generously named a track, a narrow and winding path bordered by light forest that traveled for no more than a hundred yards in either direction. The path followed a small stream. Beyond the trees on either side, the land opened into rolling pasture fields, dotted with wildflowers and empty of the cattle, sheep, or goats that had once grazed there. Once more, Alaric was struck by just how empty this land had become.

    Jasper had found this farmer¡¯s cow path, what was essentially a hidden route. It served to conceal his army¡¯s approach, keeping them mostly out of sight from prying eyes. At least, Alaric hoped so.

    Alaric¡¯s back was stiff from riding. He dismounted, his armor making a heavy chinking sound as his boots touched the ground. Duncan, who had been riding alongside Alaric, also came to a halt and slid off his horse, moving his mount aside to allow the van of the column to continue the march forward toward the battle.

    The day had grown hot, sweltering, the kind of heat that sapped a man¡¯s strength and muddled his thoughts. Despite the shade offered by the trees, Alaric was perspiring heavily under his armor. Sweat trickled down his brow, stinging his eyes. He could feel the moisture pooling in the small of his back and his boots. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. It came away dusty and dirty.

    The air was thick with the scent of pine and dirt. Alaric glanced at Duncan, whose eyes scanned the way ahead as if he could will the battle into clarity beyond the hill that rose before them. The first of the men marched by, and then it became a continual stream, their boots crunching the dirt rhythmically.

    ¡°How is the fighting going?¡± Duncan asked the ranger, voice laced with concern.

    ¡°From all appearances, not good, my lord,¡± Jasper replied grimly. He knelt upon one knee and began sketching out a map in the dirt at their feet, his fingers moving with practiced precision. ¡°This is the river, the Sken. This is the hill right there.¡± He jerked a thumb behind him, indicating the direction from which he had come, then drew a line in the dirt. ¡°It¡¯s more of a low ridge about a quarter mile in length, flat on the top and thoroughly bare. It has been heavily grazed, and the dirt has been worn away to bare rock. The other side of the ridge is open and slopes down at an easy grade, traveling a little over a half mile to the river.¡± Jasper paused and looked up at Alaric.

    ¡°I see,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Continue.¡±

    ¡°The king¡¯s army is here with about six to seven thousand men.¡± Jasper¡¯s finger circled a spot on the dirt map. ¡°They have their backs up against the river with nowhere to go, other than a swim.¡± He drew a line tightly around it, forming a half-oval. ¡°Averndale has positioned their army here. They have around nine thousand in total.¡±

    ¡°Do they have any reserves?¡± Duncan asked, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the makeshift map. ¡°Has Averndale held any of their formations back, kept them out of the fight?¡±

    ¡°A short while ago, they committed everything,¡± Jasper said, ¡°except for a small force of cavalry, maybe a hundred horses. Their king is with the cavalry. Last I saw them, they were about here.¡± Jasper touched the very center of the enemy¡¯s line. ¡°Thorold has been moving around the battlefield but hanging back from the fighting. He seems to be observing, commanding from a safe distance. Wherever he goes, his cavalry goes with him.¡± Jasper looked up. ¡°They are acting kind of like a personal guard. It is also clear the battle has been going on for several hours.¡±

    Alaric studied the dirt map intently, the makeshift lines and symbols, along with Jasper¡¯s description, becoming a vivid mental picture. Kevahn¡¯s forces were outnumbered. That much was clear. They had the river at their backs, a natural barrier that would make retreat all but impossible. That might mean they would fight harder for it. Then again, he did not know the true quality of his king¡¯s army. They could break and give up if the pressure became too much.

    The heat of the day seemed to press down relentlessly as the gravity of the situation sank in. He ignored the sweat dripping down his temples, mingling with the dust and grime of the march, his thoughts racing as he considered his options.

    Between his six companies on hand, the four hundred militia, and the five hundred men-at-arms from his bannermen, he was bringing more than two thousand men to the fight. This would come close to evening the odds, but he also had the element of surprise on his side. That was a serious factor that could not be overlooked. If the enemy had known of their approach, Thorold would have already redeployed some of his forces to counter him, and Jasper would have reported such.

    ¡°Our army is hemmed in, then?¡± Duncan¡¯s brow furrowed deeply as he tried to grasp the full implications of their situation. ¡°Roderick is in a desperate position, yes?¡±

    ¡°That is correct.¡± Jasper nodded. ¡°The fighting looks hard and difficult. From a distance, I did observe boats bringing men to the other side.¡±

    ¡°You mean away from the fight?¡± Duncan looked over at Alaric, concern plain in his gaze.

    ¡°That is what it appeared like they were doing. When they returned, they did not appear to be bringing reinforcement.¡± Jasper glanced at the dirt map. ¡°From what I can see, our king has at least another thousand men on the other side of the river.¡±

    ¡°Which means he did not get everyone across,¡± Duncan said sourly.

    Alaric didn¡¯t much like that boats were taking some back to the other side of the river. He supposed it was possible the wounded were being evacuated to safety, but he doubted it. In every battle he¡¯d ever been part of, the injured were considered and tended to last. If boats were being used, the grim reality was that some of the nobles, maybe even the king himself, were fleeing what they considered a lost cause. If true, he did not have much time to intervene, for the army would not last much longer, especially if its leadership had gone.

    His eyes scanned the faces of his men as they continued to march past him, most glancing over curiously at the impromptu meeting. They clearly were wondering what was being discussed.

    Rikka and Kiera rode up, their presence drawing attention as the column moved over to let them pass along the narrow path. Rikka¡¯s eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of the scene, while Kiera¡¯s face showed a calm determination, her posture radiating confidence.

    The oppressive heat of the day was stifling, but Alaric pushed it aside, focusing instead on the task at hand. The strategic advantage of surprise could not be underestimated. If he could deploy¡ªstrike swiftly and decisively¡ªhe might break the enemy¡¯s lines and force a retreat. His mind raced through possible maneuvers, considering how best to use the terrain and the strengths of his troops.

    ¡°Our enemy is fully committed,¡± Alaric said, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his mind. At the same time, he felt a mounting excitement. ¡°You are certain there are no other reserves, other than Thorold¡¯s cavalry?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jasper said, standing and brushing the dirt from his hands. ¡°It seemed that way to me. Thorold committed all he had a short time ago.¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re about to catch them wholly by surprise,¡± Duncan said. ¡°That will come as a rude shock.¡±

    ¡°I think so too,¡± Alaric agreed. ¡°Once they spot us, it will be difficult for Thorold to disengage from his current fight to face us.¡±

    ¡°That would be my thought,¡± Jasper said.

    The main worry was the enemy¡¯s cavalry. Alaric¡¯s own mounted contingent was still farther back along the line of march and had yet to come up. To rest the horses¡¯ strength under this heat, Keever had commanded them walked and not ridden.

    Alaric glanced at the men marching by. Though his army was very close to the battle, he understood it would take time to get them up and deploy from a marching column into a line of battle. How much time did he have? How long would Roderick¡¯s army hold?

    ¡°What are your orders, my lord?¡± Duncan asked, his eyes locking onto Alaric¡¯s. Leading his horse, Eld had come up a few moments before and stopped, listening in.

    Alaric thought for a moment more, then made a decision.

    ¡°You will lead the infantry,¡± Alaric said to Duncan. ¡°I want you to deploy them on this ridge that¡¯s ahead, two ranks only. We will spread our army out across the entirety of the ridgeline. That way, we will look like a far larger force. Place Materin¡¯s men in a large block, four ranks deep, behind the line in the center. When it comes to engagement with the enemy¡¯s main body, use them to thin the enemy¡¯s ranks at the focal point of attack. We will want to break the cohesion of the enemy¡¯s line. Once organized and ready, you will advance to contact, understood?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Duncan said. ¡°And what of our horse soldiers?¡±

    ¡°There¡¯s no advantage to revealing all we have on hand. Our cavalry will remain concealed behind the hill until I see what King Thorold does with his own. I will react accordingly at that point. Depending upon what Thorold does, there is a chance I may even alter the basic plan. Understand so far?¡±

    ¡°I do, my lord.¡±

    ¡°Any questions?¡±

    ¡°No,¡± Duncan said.

    ¡°Good. I want to pick up the pace, get as many men on the ridge as soon as possible. Now, go, before our forces reach the ridge. Bring organization to the coming chaos. The quicker we get formed, the sooner we can begin the advance and join the battle.¡±This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

    ¡°Very good, my lord.¡± Duncan mounted up and kicked his horse into a trot, riding forward along the line of marching men.

    ¡°Jasper,¡± Alaric said, his voice firm as he turned to the captain of his rangers, ¡°bring in your scouts. They are good with a bow. Find Materin once he¡¯s deployed on the ridge and join up with him. Help him as best you can, understand?¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Jasper replied and moved off in the direction Duncan had gone, disappearing among the column of march. A shout from ahead rang out, and within moments, the pace was stepped up to a quick march.

    Alaric turned to Rikka, his expression softening slightly. He noted she was still wearing a sword. ¡°This battle is likely to get ugly. Is there a chance I can convince you to remain out of harm¡¯s way?¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t even bother trying,¡± Rikka replied, her eyes flashing with determination. ¡°Especially with an enemy wizard on the field.¡±

    Alaric had forgotten that; his grip tightened on the reins of his horse. ¡°You are certain he is here?¡±

    ¡°I am,¡± Rikka said. ¡°I can feel him and the power he is holding on to. With each step forward, the sensation grows. He is somewhere ahead, close, and has not spent the mana he clings to.¡±

    ¡°Meaning he has not used his magic?¡± Eld asked.

    ¡°That is correct,¡± Rikka replied.

    ¡°Can he sense you?¡± Alaric asked.

    ¡°Undoubtedly.¡±

    Alaric did not much like the sound of that.

    ¡°But I doubt he has ever faced one of my kind in battle.¡± Rikka¡¯s tone hardened, becoming deadly. ¡°I shall make it an eye-opening experience for him.¡±

    ¡°How can you be certain?¡± Alaric asked, suddenly curious. ¡°How do you know he has never faced one of your kind?¡±

    ¡°Because I am.¡± Rikka glanced over at Eld before looking back at Alaric meaningfully.

    Understanding, Alaric gave a slow nod. He supposed the wizard was human, for there weren¡¯t very many elves around. Then again, he might not be. Alaric reminded himself of their conversation concerning other races. How would this wizard impact the battlefield? How would Rikka counter him? He had so many questions and even fewer answers. After a moment, Alaric gave a mental shrug and decided to focus on what he understood and could control, the physical fight ahead.

    ¡°Keep her out of trouble,¡± Alaric said to Kiera. ¡°That is, if you can.¡±

    Her eyes hard, Rikka turned her gaze to him. She raised an eyebrow in question.

    ¡°Trouble? Like you, she is strong-willed and makes up her own mind as to what must be done,¡± Kiera said gravely, glancing over at Rikka. ¡°My place is at her side when she finds it.¡±

    Alaric let go a resigned breath. He had meant it in jest, but Kiera was right. Rikka was her own animal and would do as she saw fit. In a way, he and Rikka were much alike, maybe too similar¡­ that was why they worked. He glanced at the woman he loved and in her gaze saw a glimmer of amusement.

    ¡°I¡¯ll watch over her as well, my lord,¡± Eld said. ¡°That is, if you would permit me to do so.¡±

    ¡°I would be grateful for that, sir knight,¡± Alaric said and mounted back up. The time for conversation was over. Alaric had an army to manage. Nudging his horse in the flanks, he started her forward, the anticipation building within him for what was to come.

    Ahead, the track opened and began to climb upward. Through the scattered trees, he could see the bald hill and ridgeline above, its rocky surface gleaming under the sun. It was very close. His men were already snaking up it, and almost to the top.

    Alaric increased his pace, urging his horse into a steady trot. Though he¡¯d already passed along orders that would set the stage for what was to initially happen, he needed to see the battlefield with his own eyes, to assess things for himself.

    The terrain was rough with some scree and many rocks, but Maggie navigated it with practiced ease, her hooves sure and steady. He emerged from the cover of the trees and guided his horse upward. Ezran kept pace with him, his face set in a determined scowl. Rikka followed close behind, flanked by Kiera, Thorne, and Eld.

    Although he was on horseback and not on foot, Alaric suddenly had a flashback to the Cardinal King¡¯s final stand in the holy land. He vividly recalled the desperate fight up the hill to reach the battle, to relieve the Cardinal¡¯s beleaguered forces. On that fateful day, he had arrived too late, the sight forever burned in his memory, an army encircled and dying. His heart chilled at the thought. Was he too late now? Would Roderick¡¯s army break before he could get his own into action?

    Alaric shoved such thoughts from his mind, for they were counterproductive. He was here to fight a battle, and this time, he would not be marching his men away in retreat. He intended to lead them to victory, to do what he could to crush Thorold¡¯s army. Determination hardened within him, his resolve becoming an unshakable force.

    Maggie¡¯s hooves clattered over bald stone as he and his horse climbed the last few yards to the summit of the hill. A wall of sound from the battle below hit him before he even saw it¡ªthe clash of steel, cries of the wounded, screams, shouts, and indistinct commands. Then the battle came into view, men locked in brutal combat of block-like formations organized into lines and successive ranks.

    Tugging on the reins, he stopped his horse and stared, taking in the scene with a strategist¡¯s eye. Duncan and Alaric¡¯s officers were already shouting, calling out orders to transition Jes company from a marching column into a line of battle, even as additional men rushed up the hill and to the summit in a continual stream.

    Down the opposite side of the hill, the battlefield stretched out below him, a tapestry of turmoil and bloodshed. Alaric¡¯s mind raced, analyzing the positions, the flow of the fight. He could see Roderick¡¯s men holding their ground, but just barely. They were under intense pressure. That much was plain.

    The place where the battle had begun was marked by lines of bodies and a clear trail of carnage. The initial clash had taken place in the middle of the field, and Thorold had driven Roderick¡¯s forces all the way back to the river¡¯s edge. That would have been a titanic effort, a hard push. Alaric had seen such things done before and found himself impressed.

    Roderick¡¯s line formed a half-circle, with Thorold¡¯s superior numbers pressing heavily against it. Alaric could well imagine the press of the line, the horrors unfolding within it, for he had experienced it himself. Men were being crushed alive by the weight of numbers or mercilessly trampled underfoot as they fell, wounded, or accidentally lost their footing and tripped. The air was thick with the sounds of battle¡ªthe clash of steel, the screams of the wounded, and the shouts of commanders struggling to maintain order.

    Alaric ignored the men hastily forming into a line behind him. He studied the terrain closely. The slope down the hill was pastureland. Without animals to graze it, the grass was overgrown, reaching just above knee height. It was hemmed in with stone walls, but overall, it was largely open ground, with only a few rock outcroppings.

    ¡°Lovely,¡± Alaric said to himself, feeling a moment of supreme triumph. His planning and audacity were about to pay off. ¡°Just lovely.¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Rikka asked, riding up and stopping her horse next to him. ¡°What is lovely about battle? I have always found it ugly.¡±

    ¡°This is beautiful ground to fight over,¡± he replied, waving a hand forward while still studying the battle playing out below. Behind the lines, enemy wounded staggered back and away from the fight. Some crawled on their hands and knees. ¡°I could not have asked for better.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s gaze swept across the friendly lines, searching for his king. He did not see him, nor Roderick¡¯s personal banner, a lion¡¯s head set in gold over a black field. However, he spotted other standards: Laval¡¯s and Kanar¡¯s, amongst others.

    His attention then shifted to the enemy¡¯s cavalry. They had been in motion, moving to the right of the line, but had now come to a stop. Alaric spotted Thorold¡¯s standard amongst them. The enemy king was turned his way, staring intently at the force that from his perspective was likely sprouting from the ridgeline itself. Alaric recognized Thorold¡¯s armor, for it flashed brilliantly with reflected light from the sun.

    Several of the mounted enemy soldiers were pointing in their direction. Alaric almost grinned with excitement. He imagined the consternation and shock Thorold must be feeling as an unexpected force appeared in his rear, and a powerful one at that.

    Suddenly, two horses galloped away, making for opposite ends of the main line. He knew what was happening. Thorold was passing orders to pull men from the rearmost ranks to face this new threat, to begin to form a scratch line to face off against him.

    Alaric studied his own men. Speed would be of the essence. Already, Jes, Lee, and Keskow¡¯s companies were on the hill, redeploying into a line of battle. Men were hastily jogging up, falling rapidly into the growing ranks. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the rest of his little army was up and in position.

    Then, a horn blew, and Thorold¡¯s cavalry was in motion again, armor and lance points gleaming under the sunlight. They wheeled, sweeping across the entirety of the field, well out to Alaric¡¯s right, forming into a line from which they could charge. From the precision of the movement, it was plain to him that his enemy¡¯s mounted force was disciplined and well trained, a distinct threat.

    Alaric understood exactly what Thorold intended. He was positioning himself to hammer down upon the flank of Alaric¡¯s infantry line once it started moving off the hill and onto flat ground. It was an effective tactic. If successful, the momentum of such a charge could easily roll up Alaric¡¯s line and break it.

    Unfortunately for Thorold, and thanks to his son, Alaric now had a superior mounted force, even if the bulk of it was inexperienced. His gaze shifted back to the enemy¡¯s king, who, like a venomous snake about to strike, was positioning his cavalry with great care.

    Keever rode up, joining him on the hill. The bannerman surveyed the battlefield, a tight expression coming over him. He held a small gray towel in hand and wiped sweat from his brow, more mopping it up than anything else. After a moment, he looked over at Alaric.

    ¡°Your orders, my lord? What would you have your mounted wing do on this fine day?¡±

    ¡°Keep your horse soldiers back, out of sight on the other side of the hill, but ready to go into action at a moment¡¯s notice.¡±

    ¡°We can do that. My men will move up after the infantry and remain just under cover behind this hill. Is that sufficient?¡±

    ¡°It is,¡± Alaric replied as motion to his right caught his eye. Rikka had ridden over to a man, one of Ganister¡¯s boys, who had just dismounted from his horse. He held a large pennant, which had just been unfurled, clearly at her order. Carrying it, he began moving through the ranks to the front of Alaric¡¯s line, where Duncan stood. Under the sunlight, the banner stood out. It was a striking display of artistry. The wind seemed to grab it, snapping it taut for a prolonged moment before it began fluttering proudly in the breeze.

    The pennant¡¯s field was a rich tapestry of blue and gold. On the blue side was a majestic golden lion, while on the golden half a castle was embossed in sable. At the very top of the pennant, a crown rested, a direct symbol of the Ordinate, the emperor¡¯s crown. Bordering the pennant was a delicate trim of silver, reflecting the light of the sun, almost in a glowing halo.

    Alaric¡¯s heart began beating faster at the sight of his ancestral family¡¯s standard. It wasn¡¯t the one they normally flew from the battlements of Dragon Bone¡¯s Rest. Most wouldn¡¯t recognize the banner for what it truly represented, but some would. It spoke of a direct connection to a royal lineage, one long vanished from this world, the banner of his true family, Set¡¯Tangenica.

    The sight of it filled him with a renewed sense of purpose and pride. It was a symbol of the responsibilities and honor he carried into battle, along with those who had come before him¡ªhis family, his house, his ancestors. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his heritage settle more comfortably on his shoulders. Long had he hidden what¡ªwho¡ªhe was, and he suspected that was now over.

    No, he knew it was over.

    He would no longer hide and work to conceal his ancestry. Alaric¡¯s gaze fell upon Eld, who rode at Kiera¡¯s side, following after Rikka. There was no point in it, not anymore. Word was already out, and soon, like a wildfire, it would spread.

    ¡°So be it,¡± Alaric breathed. ¡°What will be will be.¡±

    Pulling her horse to a stop, Rikka stared directly at him, her expression fierce and intense. She looked to the royal standard and back to him. There seemed a fire ablaze in her eyes, one that Alaric found matching within his breast. It had begun to burn fiercely.

    He shifted his gaze back to his standard. How long had it been since that was raised over an army about to march into battle?

    ¡°What will you do, my lord?¡± Keever asked, dragging Alaric¡¯s attention back to the present.

    Alaric shifted his gaze back to Thorold, who had finished moving his line of cavalry, positioning his horse for a perfect strike once the infantry began advancing down the hill. The enemy king had placed himself in the exact center of the line and just ahead of it, as if daring Alaric to move.

    Alaric nudged his horse forward, angling Maggie toward Duncan. He had a battle to fight and orders to pass along, for he would soon deal with Averndale¡¯s king. ¡°I am going to cut the head off the snake.¡±

 Chapter 25

    Duncan stepped up to Alaric, who was standing by his horse, holding the reins loosely in one hand and gazing outward at the battle down the slope. Roderick¡¯s forces had given several cheers in the last few moments. They had seen his small army and Thorold¡¯s response, repositioning men to contest Alaric¡¯s inevitable advance. Clearly, it had bolstered their morale, for the sound of the fighting had intensified shortly after.

    ¡°My lord, we are ready to step off and go over to the attack.¡±

    Alaric nodded absently, a look of quiet determination etched across his face. It had taken less than a half hour to bring his troops up and position them for an advance. He cast a glance over his assembled infantry, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and apprehension.

    Jaxen¡¯s company held the center of his line. This would be the young officer¡¯s first real test. To his left stood Lee, a seasoned warrior with a grim resolve, while Jes, a fiery and fearless leader, held the extreme left flank and had command over the militia. Keskow¡¯s company was to Jaxen¡¯s right. On the far right was Rikard, a hard man. Rikard¡¯s company had been armed with throwing spears and shields, a weapon of both simplicity and deadly effectiveness.

    Alaric had positioned the militia on the far left, a move that placed the less experienced troops alongside the bannermen¡¯s hardened men-at-arms. The right was where the men would bear the brunt of the Thorold¡¯s cavalry charge should an attack be driven home.

    Behind his primary line stood Materin¡¯s company, organized into four ranks. Alaric had shifted this company slightly more to the right, but not overly much. The men¡¯s bows were strung, each archer holding several arrows in hand. Materin¡¯s one hundred eighty bowmen were ready to unleash a storm of arrows upon the enemy. Hauled by teams of horses, his two artillery pieces had been brought up. These were mounted in the beds of wagons and had yet to be set up. Alaric hoped to use them once his line met the enemy¡¯s. He had no idea how effective they would be.

    Alaric was about to take a very big risk. The fate of his men, and perhaps the outcome of the battle, hinged on the plan he¡¯d just devised. His heart pounded in his chest at the thought of what he was about to do, each beat a reminder of the stakes and what would happen should he have miscalculated. The plan would either pay off spectacularly or fail utterly. If it failed, he would lose everything. He tightened his grip on the reins, ready to lead his men into the crucible of battle.

    Thorold was forming a new line, his officers desperately trying to rally to confront Alaric¡¯s inevitable advance. Alaric had watched as Thorold¡¯s rearmost ranks, battered and exhausted from the prolonged battle they had been engaged in, began to turn and form to face his advancing forces. The new line looked painfully thin, a frail barrier against the coming storm.

    Instinctively, Alaric understood that once his men started the advance, moving downhill, momentum would be on their side. The slope would lend them speed and force, turning their advance into a powerful move forward. He scanned the terrain, noting every dip and rise, every potential obstacle.

    The tension in the air was thick, an energy that set his heart beating faster with every passing moment. His mind raced through the strategy he¡¯d laid out, the movements that would follow, the signals that would guide them onward. Every detail mattered, every decision a potential turning point. The enemy was formidable, but Alaric¡¯s forces were ready. Not only that, his men were led by officers who knew their business.

    However, Alaric understood that once he gave the order to advance, his overall control of what was to come would diminish. It would be up to his officers and sergeants to pull off what he intended, to execute his vision for the fight ahead. Though he had faith in them, he still found it an uncomfortable feeling.

    Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself for what was to come. The weight of command pressed upon his shoulders with tremendous might, but with it came a fierce determination, one that would not see him looking back or second-guessing himself. The time for action was near, and he knew that the fate of the battle¡ªand perhaps the war¡ªhung in the balance.

    ¡°My lord?¡±

    ¡°What?¡± Alaric looked over at Duncan in question. He¡¯d been lost in his thoughts. Then he understood what Duncan was expecting. ¡°Right, give the order, the command to go forward.¡±

    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡± Duncan stepped away, moving with purpose to the center of the line, where the man with Alaric¡¯s banner stood. He drew his blade, the polished steel catching the sunlight, and waved it high for all to see as he looked first to his left, studying the battle line, and then to the right. ¡°Draw swords.¡±

    The call echoed along the line, taken up by officers with commanding voices. The sound of blades being yanked from scabbards filled the air, a metallic symphony that sent a shiver of anticipation through the ranks. The men stood ready, their faces set in grim determination. The only company that did not yank out their swords was Rikard¡¯s. They held their spears at the ready.

    ¡°Forward march!¡± Duncan¡¯s voice rang out, clear and resolute. He pointed ahead and began advancing down the hill, his steps confident and unhesitating. The entire line stepped off after him, their movement synchronized and disciplined.

    Alaric¡¯s standard-bearer went with Duncan, carrying the banner high. The pennant, usually following Alaric around, instead fluttered in the breeze behind Duncan. Though it was frequently the case, they were not just symbols of unity and resolve, a beacon for the troops to rally around and draw inspiration from. Banners and pennants on the battlefield were indicators of where commanders were located. Should the need arise to find one, one simply located the specific banner.

    As the line advanced, the banner swayed with the movement of the bearer, a bright spot of color against the grim landscape of war. It signaled to every soldier that their commander was with them in spirit, if not in body, guiding them into the fray. Alaric watched them go, a mixture of pride and concern in his eyes. This was the moment he had prepared for, the moment where all their training, discipline, and strategy would be put to the ultimate test.

    The descent down the hill felt like the beginning of a storm, the calm before the inevitable clash. The men moved with purpose, their steps steady, their eyes fixed on the enemy below. Each step brought them closer to the decisive moment, the crash of contact.

    Alaric felt a pang of conflict, instinctively wanting to be with them, standing just before his family standard, a visible symbol of leadership and solidarity. But he knew that this time, strategy dictated otherwise. He could not afford to let his enemy know his true position. Thorold needed to believe Alaric was with the infantry, not with the horse. That the banner was on the field should be enough to convince the enemy king that Alaric was there.

    Alaric had moved twenty horse soldiers to the top of the ridge, positioning them in clear view of the enemy. It was a calculated move, designed to show the presence of a cavalry wing without making it appear as a significant threat.

    Alaric pulled himself up into the saddle, the leather creaking under his weight. The familiar feel of the reins brought a measure of comfort amidst the tension. Rikka, Kiera, and Eld were already mounted and had been waiting. Ezran and Thorne were there too, their presence a reassuring reminder of the experienced warriors by his side, the last of his Shadow Guard. Besides some of Ganister¡¯s men, Keever completed the group, his eyes scanning the field with a keen, watchful gaze.

    To anyone observing from the battlefield, they appeared as a small cavalry wing, poised but not formidable, nothing to be overly concerned about. Alaric¡¯s heart raced as he settled into his saddle, the hot breeze brushing against his face, bringing with it the warmth of the day. He knew in moments it was to get much hotter. Below, his infantry continued their deliberate descent down the hill, each step through the long whispering grass drawing them farther from him and closer to the enemy and the battle near the river¡¯s edge.

    His gut tightened as his infantry reached a low-lying stone wall, a field boundary marker. The line slowed as the men scrambled up and over it. Once they had passed the obstacle, Duncan called a brief halt to reorder his lines. Then, after a few moments¡¯ delay, Alaric¡¯s infantry was moving again.

    Thorold had yet to release his cavalry. He was waiting for the battle line to move farther into the open. As his men continued steadily downhill, the distance between them grew, but so did Alaric¡¯s resolve and his desire for action. It took all his effort to remain calm and collected.

    ¡°Are your men ready?¡± Alaric asked Keever, glancing back down the reverse side of the hill, where the bulk of his cavalry contingent waited. They were already mounted and organized into a line, their horses pawing at the ground in anticipation.

    ¡°They are, my lord,¡± Keever replied, steady and confident.

    ¡°Soon after Thorold starts his horse into motion, we begin moving,¡± Alaric said, his gaze shifting back to the battlefield. He hesitated, then looked over at his bannerman. Keever had always been skilled with a horse, his prowess in smaller skirmishes well-known. ¡°Have you ever participated in a charge this large?¡±

    ¡°No, my lord, I have not,¡± Keever admitted, a hint of unease in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever been in small fights, maybe twenty-five horse at most on both sides.¡±

    Alaric gave a nod, his expression steely. He had expected as much. ¡°If it goes the way I think it will, when they reach the flank of our line, the enemy horse will break, with half going around each side. It should allow us to hit, and shatter, a good portion of their cavalry wing.¡±

    ¡°Are you certain about that, my lord?¡± Keever asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty. ¡°I¡¯ve seen cavalry run over a line of men, and they will be hitting us from the side, the extreme flank. That is a dangerous spot for us to receive a charge.¡±

    ¡°Certain, no,¡± Alaric admitted, his tone measured but resolute. ¡°But this is what I believe will happen.¡± He glanced over the battlefield. Thorold¡¯s cavalry had yet to move.

    ¡°And if it doesn¡¯t occur the way you envision?¡± Keever pressed, anxiety threading through his words.

    ¡°Then it will be ugly,¡± Alaric said. ¡°Our charge will be into not only the enemy horse but our men as well.¡± He paused, allowing the gravity of the situation to sink in, that unhappy reality. ¡°If it goes the way I think it will, after we crush a portion of their cavalry, we will need to pursue the rest, catch their king if we can. The infantry will continue onto the fight to relieve our army. I plan on going with them. At that point, when we have thoroughly bested the enemy cavalry wing, you do with your command as you deem best. If you see an opportunity to make a difference, to bring a charge home, take it.¡±

    ¡°I understand, my lord.¡± Keever straightened his posture, determination setting in his features. ¡°I will do just that.¡±

    ¡°If we are successful and break the enemy¡¯s mounted wing,¡± Alaric breathed, a hint of hope seeping into his voice, ¡°there is a very good chance we will win the day and defeat Thorold¡¯s army.¡±

    Keever nodded.

    Alaric turned his gaze back, eyes narrowing as he watched his infantry line continue its advance. They were almost halfway down the hill and to the enemy. Within moments, they would be in contact with the enemy¡¯s scratch line. A tightening in his stomach reminded Alaric of the weight of command, the responsibility he bore. Now matters would play out as they would. He would do his best to manage things, but¡­ going forward, there was only so much he could do.

    ¡°They¡¯re in motion, my lord,¡± Keever said, drawing his attention.

    Alaric¡¯s gaze shifted to the enemy cavalry. Thorold had started his line of horses into a steady walk. The sight of the enemy king amongst them as they moved steadily forward brought a flicker of encouragement to Alaric¡¯s heart. Averndale¡¯s cavalry troopers held their lances high, each one pointed up at the sky, their steel tips glinting and flashing in the sunlight as they moved across the field toward Alaric¡¯s infantry. The scene was almost serene.

    ¡°They have taken the bait,¡± Alaric said, a sudden intense triumph surging through him. He clapped his hands together. ¡°They¡¯ve taken the bloody bait.¡±

    ¡°Should I call up my boys?¡± Keever asked, his voice tinged with eager anticipation.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    Alaric¡¯s eyes were fixed on the advancing enemy. ¡°Not yet. Let them gain a little more momentum. I don¡¯t want Thorold breaking away once he figures out what is about to happen. I need him committed.¡±

    He watched as the enemy cavalry transitioned from a walk to a slow trot, then began moving faster, steadily gaining momentum for a full-out galloping charge. The riders leaned forward, their horses¡¯ powerful muscles propelling them rapidly across the battlefield toward contact.

    Duncan, clearly seeing the cavalry in motion, had called a halt, his voice carrying over the din. The infantry on the right, Rikard¡¯s men, hastily began shifting into a wall formation. Materin¡¯s bowmen were in motion too, jogging to the right with bows ready and arrows already nocked. To the unpracticed eye, it looked like the infantry were in chaos, but Alaric knew it was anything but.

    He could hear the hooves of the enemy horse now, a rhythmic pounding that sounded like distant thunder rolling across the plains. The ground seemed to tremble under the oncoming charge. Alaric¡¯s heart raced in time with the approaching cavalry, but he kept his face calm, his demeanor steady. His men looked to him for leadership, and he would not let them down, not betray his anxiety. Every muscle in his body was coiled with tension, ready to spring into action at the right moment.

    ¡°This is your show now, Keever. Bring your men up,¡± Alaric commanded, his voice firm and steady. ¡°Begin the advance.¡±

    Pulling his sword out with a swift, practiced motion, Keever turned in the saddle, his eyes gleaming with determination. ¡°Here we go, boys! Forward!¡±

    Alaric¡¯s cavalry began to walk up to the summit of the hill, the sound of hooves cracking loudly against the stone. Alaric looked over at Rikka, who sat astride her horse with a calm, focused expression. ¡°Remain behind the cavalry.¡±

    ¡°Is that where you will be?¡± Rikka asked, her gaze steady on him as Keever¡¯s line moved onto the summit and then rapidly past them, their lances pointed skyward.

    Kiera, beside Rikka, drew her sword, the blade glinting in the sunlight. Alaric had no wish to be amidst the lances or the line as they crashed into the enemy. He had done that, and it was a dangerous place to be. He nodded, his concern for Rikka¡¯s safety gnawing at him. The thought of her in the thick of the fray made his heart clench with worry.

    ¡°Then that is where I shall be,¡± Rikka said resolutely, ¡°with you.¡±

    Alaric¡¯s concern deepened, his protective instincts warring with his understanding of her capabilities. The battlefield was an unforgiving and unpredictable place.

    ¡°I am a weapon,¡± Rikka said. ¡°I will be fine. You need not worry about me.¡±

    Alaric scowled, the lines of worry etched deeply into his face.

    ¡°I will watch over her,¡± Kiera said, voice filled with quiet assurance.

    ¡°I know,¡± Alaric replied.

    ¡°And my job is to watch over you,¡± Rikka said to Alaric, her voice filled with unwavering resolve. ¡°That and more.¡±

    Keever shouted an order, his voice carrying, and the cavalry moved from a walk into a slow trot. Alaric nudged his horse forward, following after them, his eyes fixed on the enemy cavalry now moving at a gallop and almost upon his infantry.

    Ahead, he saw the flank of his line of infantry had fully transformed. The front rank facing off against the charge knelt, their spears facing the enemy in a formidable wall of pointed steel, the butts anchored in the ground.

    Alaric reached over and drew Oathbreaker, the familiar weight of the weapon a comfort amidst the coming chaos of battle. The sword¡¯s well-worn hilt fit perfectly in his grasp. As the pace increased to a fast trot and then a gallop, the rhythmic pounding of hooves echoed in his ears, mingling with the roar of blood in his veins.

    Maggie galloped hard, just ten paces behind his line of horse soldiers. The wind became strong against his face, carrying with it the scents of sweat, dirt, grass, and the metallic tang of impending conflict. His heart pounded in time with his horse¡¯s powerful strides, the hammering of her hooves, the adrenaline coursing through him sharpening his focus.

    Ahead, the enemy cavalry bore down on his infantry, their lances lowered in a deadly charge. Alaric¡¯s grip tightened on Oathbreaker, the blade gleaming in the sunlight.

    A horn rang out from the enemy cavalry, a piercing note of warning and call to break off, but it was too late. Thorold¡¯s cavalry had already committed, they were too far along and into the charge. A handful of riders managed to rein their mounts in, but the rest, maddened by what was to come and not understanding the call, plunged onward, closing the last few yards to contact. Alaric held his breath as he rode forward, the tension coiling in his chest.

    Would the enemy line do what he expected?

    Then, it happened. The line of charging enemy suddenly split, the animals instinctively avoiding the spears. In that moment, he felt a fierce stab of satisfaction. He had never seen a cavalry charge driven home against a shield and spear wall. Every time he had seen it tried, the horses had gotten a say in how things went down, and this time was no different.

    Thorold¡¯s cavalry charge broke to either side of Duncan¡¯s battle line. Those holding the spears were completely untouched, their formation holding strong. Then the air was filled with the screams of horses and the shouts of men. Riders fell as the men behind the first ranks threw their spears, giving a solid toss at the enemy. Materin¡¯s bowmen, positioned strategically along the flank, released a volley at the enemy streaming to either side of the battle line. Arrows hissed through the air, finding their marks with deadly accuracy. Even more men and horses went down.

    It was instant chaos.

    On the back side of Alaric¡¯s infantry line, the enemy cavalry started to turn away, attempting to regroup and ride up the hill away from the arrows and spears flying through the air. But there was nowhere for them to go, for Keever¡¯s horsemen, with lances lowered, were bearing down upon them. Many of the enemy, seeing Alaric¡¯s cavalry for the first time, pulled their horses to a shocked halt. Their path of retreat was cut off, trapping them between the deadly pincers of Alaric¡¯s strategy.

    A heartbeat later, there was a terrible crash as the first of Keever¡¯s cavalry reached the enemy. The sound of metal clashing, horses colliding, and men screaming filled the air. The impact was tremendous, bodies and beasts thrown into the fray.

    Alaric blinked as it happened, and then he was amongst the enemy. Instinct and training alone guided his actions. Without even realizing it, he chopped down with his sword. The impact was hard, jarring his hand as his blade connected with the back of an enemy horseman. The blow did not cut deep. In fact, it did not cut at all, but the force of it hammering into the chainmail armor was enough to knock his target from his mount and to the ground. Then, Alaric was past the enemy and approaching the back side of his infantry line. Hastily, like many others, he reined up sharply and wheeled about. Almost immediately, he came face-to-face with another enemy horseman.

    His opponent, sword out, lashed with a fierce cry. Alaric turned his horse swiftly and, twisting about in the saddle, blocked the attack, the force of blade meeting blade resonating through his hand and arm.

    Snarling fiercely like an animal, the enemy maneuvered his horse closer, swinging again at Alaric. Their blades met once more with a ringing clang, the sound piercing through the chaotic noise of battle. All about Alaric, men on horseback fought one another.

    Men on foot swarmed around them, their presence adding to the confusion of the melee. One of Alaric¡¯s men, armed with a short spear, jabbed it into the side of his opponent¡¯s horse. The animal screamed in pain, rearing up and throwing its rider. The enemy rider landed hard on his back, the breath whooshing out of him.

    Another of Alaric¡¯s soldiers stepped forward with ruthless efficiency, stabbing down into the rider¡¯s throat with a sword. Blood erupted from the wound, a gruesome fountain.

    Alaric could feel the heat of exertion, the sweat mingling with the grime of combat. Every muscle in his body was taut, ready for the next strike, the next defense. He wheeled around, scanning the battlefield, searching for another enemy. Chaos swirled around him. Dozens of men on foot hacked and stabbed at the enemy riders, while friendly riders chopped with their heavy cavalry swords. Despite the pandemonium, no immediate threats or targets were within easy range, and those nearest were rapidly being cut down.

    He took a deep breath, calming his racing heart, and searched for Rikka. It took a moment, but he spotted her a few yards away, bloodied sword in hand, with Kiera, Eld, and Thorne. They were screening her from the enemy. Relief washed over him; she was safe.

    Ezran was by Alaric, wheeling his horse about, vigilant eyes searching for threats. Turning back to his infantry line, Alaric saw that it was still intact, though it had come to a complete halt. He spotted Jaxen, having emerged from the line, engaged in personal combat with a dismounted enemy trooper. They traded several strikes, then Jaxen batted his opponent¡¯s sword and stabbed him in the thigh, driving him to the ground. He turned and immediately attacked another dismounted enemy soldier. It was what Alaric wanted to see. Jaxen was setting an example, showing his men he was not afraid to fight. Alaric¡¯s gaze moved on. Only a portion of the last rank had been released into the fight. Duncan had kept the rest in formation.

    The enemy cavalry was in disarray, their initial charge blunted and broken. Those on the back side of his line where his own cavalry had hammered home were almost finished, thoroughly broken, but more needed to be done. The job had only just been started.

    Duncan needed to reform, advance, and hit the enemy infantry, to relieve the pressure on Alaric¡¯s king¡¯s army. He looked around, searching, scanning. The battlefield was a chaos of motion and noise, filling the air with the clash of steel on steel, the cries of the wounded, and the snorting of exhausted horses. Then, he saw him.

    ¡°Duncan,¡± Alaric raised his voice over the clamor, shouting for all he was worth. ¡°Duncan!¡±

    Looking around, the man spotted him. His face was smeared with dust from the march and sweat, but his eyes were sharp and focused. Alaric pointed with his sword toward the enemy down by the river, maybe five hundred yards away.

    ¡°Continue the advance!¡± he bellowed, his voice carrying above the din of battle around him, which was beginning to die down.

    Duncan nodded firmly and turned, shouting to the nearest officers. What he said was lost in the cacophony around Alaric, but his urgency was clear. After a moment, officers and the sergeants began calling for men to return to the line, even as it began to move again, grinding steadily forward.

    The ground they left behind was a gruesome tableau. No enemy remained standing; they had either been cut down or had won free and fled. Horses and bodies lay scattered about, some tangled together in death. Riderless horses ran off in all directions. The field was littered with lances, shields, and discarded weapons.

    ¡°Fall back in!¡± an infantry sergeant was shouting to the men who had not returned yet. Several men were rifling through the bodies, searching for coin amongst the dead. ¡°Fall back in, you bloody idiots!¡±

    ¡°Reform the wing!¡± Keever was shouting as he rode back and away from the aftermath of the fight to clear ground, drawing the cavalry to him. ¡°On me! Reform! Come on, boys, we need to reform. The day¡¯s not done. There¡¯s still work to be done!¡±

    The infantry began streaming back toward the line, their movements weary but disciplined as the riders began to heed Keever¡¯s call.

    Alaric suddenly remembered Thorold. His heart skipped a beat, and he glanced around, searching frantically. He could not see the enemy king¡¯s body anywhere on the field. Panic flared briefly before he looked beyond his infantry, where the other portion of Thorold¡¯s cavalry had gone.

    There he saw the king, with his standard-bearer, amidst a group of twenty mounted soldiers, riding away from the advancing infantry. The rest of the king¡¯s cavalry from the front side of Alaric¡¯s battle line had scattered, riding off and away from the spear and bowmen. Alaric had a chance to make a difference now, to cut off the head of the snake and end this once and for all, for Thorold was vulnerable.

    ¡°Keever! Keever!¡± Alaric called, his voice urgent as he got the other¡¯s attention.

    ¡°My lord?¡±

    Alaric pointed at the enemy king. ¡°I need cavalry with me, now!¡±

    Without waiting for a reply, Alaric yanked Maggie around and dug his heels into the horse¡¯s side, urging her into a gallop. He began riding along the back end of his line, navigating through the chaos. He wove this way and that to avoid fallen horses, men, and discarded weapons and shields. His focus was razor-sharp, heart pounding with the rhythm of his horse¡¯s hooves.

    He rounded the side of his line, his eyes locked on Thorold, who was still drawing away. He glanced back and saw twenty horsemen hot on his heels. Their faces were set with grim determination, ready to follow him into the heart of the enemy¡¯s formation. Ezran was there too. The thunder of their pursuit was a chorus of hooves and war cries, a harbinger of the reckoning that was to come.

    The rest of the cavalry was rallying to Keever.

    ¡°After the king!¡± Alaric shouted at those who were with him, pointing where he wanted them to go. Thorold¡¯s momentum had taken him and the other riders with him well past Alaric¡¯s line. They were slowing and beginning to swing around, angling back toward his own army and the safety of his scratch line.

    Alaric could not allow that to happen. He had an opportunity here, and he intended to take it. He leaned forward and dug his heels into the flanks of his horse. Maggie surged beneath him, her powerful muscles propelling them both forward. He chose a spot between the king and the enemy army and angled for that point at full gallop.

    The ground blurred beneath them as they thundered across the field, the wind whipping past Alaric¡¯s face. He could see Thorold clearly now. The enemy king had his back to Alaric.

    They were closing the distance rapidly, the gap between them and the enemy king shrinking with every passing heartbeat. The weight of the moment was palpable, the chance to turn the tide of the battle with a single decisive strike. His grip tightened on his sword, his resolve hardening. They were almost at the point where he would be between Thorold and his army.

    Someone in the king¡¯s group spotted them closing in at nearly the last moment. The king looked around, then he and his company dug their heels in, and suddenly, the chase was on. Alaric had not only the momentum on Thorold, but also now the angle to fully cut him off from making it back to his lines. Realizing that, the king¡¯s party turned away from his own army, moving instead toward the river and the edge of his battle line, along which grew numerous trees along with a thick, tangled undergrowth.

    Alaric urged his horse on, digging his heels repeatedly into her flanks. Maggie responded with a burst of speed. Her breath was now coming fast and hard. He could feel the power of the horse beneath him, her hooves thundering on the ground as she flew across the field. The distance closed rapidly. His heart raced, a sense of triumph building within him. There was nowhere for Thorold to go, not anymore, for Alaric and the horsemen with him had won the race and completely cut the king off. They were now between Thorold and his army, almost at the river itself.

    There was nowhere for Thorold to go.

    The king¡¯s party abruptly wheeled around with startling speed and, galloping hard, came directly at Alaric and his horse soldiers. The sudden maneuver caught him off guard, but he quickly regained his composure and prepared for the shock of contact, angling his course for the charging horsemen. The distance between them and their charging foes closed rapidly¡ªten yards, five¡­

    Alaric fixed his gaze on the rider directly in front of him. With a feral snarl, he swung his sword in a vicious arc. He had a flash of his opponent¡¯s eyes, the fear in them, then the blade connected with a sickening crunch as it sliced through the flesh and bone of the man¡¯s raised sword arm.

    But before he could revel in the moment, another horse and rider slammed into Maggie from the front in a head-on collision. The force of the blow sent him hurtling through the air. Alaric barely had time to register what had occurred before he hit the ground with a bone-jarring impact.

    His vision exploded into a blinding whiteness.