Cogs of Fortune

May 4th, 999 A.S.

Lycian Fields, Lycian League, Elibe

Within the heart of Lycia, the Ostian province of Caelin stood steady. Though around them in Araphen, Laus, and Thria had fallen whether to internal strife and external invaders, Caelin remained as strong as it always had. Though not the first Lycian state one thought of, Caelin had fostered a legacy of fortitude and bravery that not many could surpass. Especially in recent memory with the late Marquis Hausen, Caelin had been a significant player in Lycian politics, though not for the best of reasons. Although a respected house, Caelin was not a truly significant part of Lycian courts until the issue of succession emerged with the illness of Hausen. Though the issue would be resolved with the discovery of the Lady Lyndis and the death of Lundgren, Caelin was placed in the center of Lycian minds.

Shortly after the death of Hausen, Lyndis ruled Caelin as her own. Ruling for three years after the death of the former marquis, Lady Lyndis suddenly abdicated to Lord Hector and left for the Sacaen plains, accompanied by her dearest friends. Though Sir Kent and Lady Florina eventually made their return to Lycia, many could not feel as if a small piece of them had left alongside Lady Lyn. Though Kent was granted the stewardship of Caelin and Florina gave birth to the Lady Lilina, the way of life in Caelin was definitively affected. Although the new generation of kids would not know who Lady Lyndis was, the men and women who were affected by her short time in Caelin were.

Many in Caelin could not help as though they were reliving that moment. Although Lady Lyndis' departure was significantly more happy than the recent news that arrived from Araphen, the general mood was the same. A time of grieving commenced before life continued; though life rolled on for many in Caelin, the lives of many people within the small Lycian domain were irreparably ruined. Although Caelin certainly fared better than other Lycian states, such facts did nothing to console the grieving families and friends of those who had lost loved ones.

Since the arrival of the news from the passing Lycian Army, the mood within Castle Caelin had been stifling. Though the arrival of Sir Stephen and many of the wounded brought more than a few smiles, the somberness that hung in the air was impossible to miss. Although many were grieving within the castle, perhaps none affected it as much as Lady Fiora. Stricken with grief and depression after learning of her only son's fate, the former mercenary's sobs could be heard through the castle. Though Steward Kent attempted to console his wife, his own attitude hardly improved matters. Somber and sullen, the Crimson Shield had set himself upon his tasks diligently and with much anger. Driving himself beyond the point of exhaustion, the Caelin knight began to disappear for longer periods of the day.

Due to the lack of knights within the castle, the training grounds were often empty and deserted, sparingly seeing a visitor. However, since the arrival of the Lycian Army, two men had found themselves within the grounds every day - one of them training, the other watching. Although neither ever said a word to the other, it was a silent vigil, one that both men needed whether they realized it or not.

The smack of wood against wood reverberated around the small grounds, a loud pop that would likely attract the attention of other knights any other day. The smack was followed by another then another before all one could hear were the wood-on-wood collisions; eventually, the sound died down as the knight swinging the training blade pause, breathing heavily. Walking towards the other knight, the training knight sat beside him on a wooden bench, his eyes downcast towards the dirt of the grounds.

Stephen gave a small glance towards Kent, before grunting. At the look that returned, the wounded knight spoke for the first time that night. "Yuh swordsmanship is a wonduh, suh."

The Crimson Shield looked at the veteran knight for a moment before smiling softly, his head shaking. "I am but a shadow of my former self. A few simple swings like this would take me hours before I would feel it...now, I am gassed afterwards. Shameful, is it not?"

"No, suh," Stephen shook his head, "yuh are just not the physical specimen yuh used ta be."

Kent sighed, "were it not for this injury, I would be. For almost ten years I have struggled with it, unable to perform what was once second nature to me."

"If yuh don't mind me askin', what happened ta yuh, suh?"

"I was once leading the squires out to the field along with Sain, teaching the men how to master fighting from horseback. From a lack of foresight, I led the men too far west and forgot to secure our area beforehand." Kent looked upwards as he reminisced, "although I have made an effort to eliminate Caelin of all the bandits, during these times, they were far more prevalent than they are now. The bandits during those times were often made up of former soldiers or mercenaries. We strayed too close to the forest during that exercise and..."

"The scum attack yuh?"

Kent nodded, "essentially, yes. They belonged to one of the more dangerous groups at the time, led by many former Laus soldiers. They were so dangerous because they possessed skills that many normal bandits do not, including having horses. So when we strayed too close to their territory..."

"They attacked?" Stephen tugged at his enormous beard, his kind eyes looking towards Kent.

"Indeed. We were beset upon immediately by their horses...Sain and I rallied the squires and ordered them to flee to the castle and in that, blessed God, we succeeded. Sain and I remained behind to buy them some time, for they were not completely competent on horseback like he and I were."

"Steward Kent," the grizzled man looked towards his leader, "yuh and Commanduh Sain held them off on yuh own? That's suicide!"

"Ah, but it wasn't, not during those times!" Kent chuckled for the first time in four days at this. "Not to sing my name more than I should but Sain and I...we were two of the greatest horsemen around. Why, I daresay the only two men more skilled than us were Sir Marcus and Lord Eliwood and to be compared to them is an honor!"

"Nonetheless," he continued, "Sain and I held the rearguard. As we were riding back and forth, ensuring that none got past us, one of the younger squires rode back out to assist us. Stupidly though bravely. As soon as Sain saw him he ordered the young man back and although he listened...he was definitely in the thick of it."

"How did yuh get 'im out?"

"By fighting towards him. We eventually managed to contain the enemy from pursuing before..."

"Before what, suh?"

Kent grimaced for a moment, rubbing his lower back in remembrance. "A stray arrow pierced me in the back. I instantly felt my limbs go number and I nearly fell out of the saddle; somehow, someway, I held onto my blade and parried an incoming sword blow. By then, the grunts were storming out from the forest and though we had taken out most of the horsemen, there was no possible way for us to continue. With what I had left, I nudged my steed to the left and Sain covered me. As soon as we got back to the castle, I fell from the saddle and blacked out from the pain."

"Luckily," Kent continued as he stretched his shoulder, "an old companion of ours was visiting the castle at the time. She managed to pull the arrow from my back and heal the worst of the injury. I have no doubt that were she not there, I would have lost the use of my legs. Regardless, though she gave me the ability to walk, the pain from during so is so great that I am unable to take the field like I once had."

"Forgive me for askin' yuh, suh. Jus' that no e'er speaks o' it."

"It is fine..." Kent waved a hand before raising the silver sword in his hand, "I cannot imagine why. I guess people believe I'm sensitive but I've come to terms with it long ago." The two sat in a rather uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Kent nodded towards Stephen's arm, which rested in a sling. "How'd you injure your arm?"

The wounded knight regarded his arm with a sad smile. "Well, suh, we was fightin' them Bern bastuhds and in the first attack, I got me arm struck by a stray jav'lin. Done pierced me arm and Commanduh Sain ordered me ta the castle."

"I trust you'll be able to fight again one day?"

"Steward!" Stephen knocked his good arm against his chest, "o' course I will be!"

"Good. Because something tells me that you'll be forced to defend Lycia once more..."

"Your father treated me very kindly."

Paris regarded the Sacaen girl beside him with a kind look. The girl had been discovered by the Thrian prince when he had entered the castle. Mark had been precise in his instruction to have Paris sneak into the castle, as opposed to be received by Wagner and his men. Though Mark had initially assumed all was well within Thria, it was Paris himself who voiced possible concerns over the state of Thrian affairs; working a plan out alongside Mark and Roy, Paris had decided to sneak through the hidden back entrance of Castle Thria, a getaway known to no one besides the Thrian marquises and their family.

Upon his entrance into the castle, the young man had headed immediately towards his room where his personal effects were. He had decided to wait out the candlemark between Roy's reception and Paris' unveiling of himself and all was fine until he entered his personal chambers. He discovered the Sacaen girl, Sue, in the room where it had been unused since his departure to Araphen. Although initially surprised, a short talk with the girl had quickly turned the plan on its head. Accompanied by Sue, Paris easily dispatched the man standing guard before his father's chamber; entering alone, Paris emerged and immediately thanked the girl before confronting Wagner, joyously claiming the traitor's life with his blade.

Though the short time since the discovery of his father's death had been busy, it had bothered Paris nonetheless. Sue, perhaps sensing this, had attempted to strike up conversation multiple times. Although Paris had ignored her as many times, he appreciated the effort nonetheless.

"Did he?" The prince almost smiled as he saw the glimpse of surprise on Sue's face.

She nodded, "yes. Lord Orun treated me very courteously. Every need was taken care of as Lord Orun even volunteered to assist me in my goal. He and I would talk all hours of the day, only interrupted by Wagner."

"Damned snake..." Paris' lips raised before he regarded the teen, "may I be allowed to inquire what your goal is, Lady Sue?"

"I am the granddaughter of the Silver Wolf of the Kutolah." At Paris' widened eyes, she continued. "When Bern attacked Sacae, my grandfather led the tribe in defense of it, alongside the other tribes of Sacae. However..."

"Bern defeated you?"

Sue shook her head. "No. Sacae defeated itself." A questioning look from Paris caused her to explain. "An old saying of Hanon goes that when the tribes are united, Sacae shall rise - but when they are divided, Sacae shall fall. A rival tribe of our tribe, the Djute, betrayed us to Bern. They opened the city walls of Bulgar in the midst of night to Bern. Many of the more peaceful tribes were instantly slaughtered...Grandfather and Father tried to rally the Kutolah but..."

"It was too late?"

"Yes," Sue nodded sadly, "my father was engaging Bern forces when a stray javelin killed Tormac, his horse. Although he got to his feet and continued to fight the Bern soldiers..."

Paris looked at the girl, who stared stoically forward. "I am sorry, Lady Sue."

"My father died as a warrior. I am not sad because he died protecting the people he loved. Besides, after Mother died," Sue smiled sadly at Paris, "he was so very upset. Father Sky and Mother Earth have made him happier."

"Nonetheless," she continued, "by the time my father had fallen, it was clear that we were not going to win. Though we managed to push the Bern soldiers out of Bulgar temporarily, there was no way we'd be able to do it again. Our greatest swordsman, Guy, took two of his men and stood outside the main gate to the city. For over three candlemarks he fought off the Bern invaders while we fled the city - I later heard that the enemy general had given him a funeral pyre, as our custom dictates."

"The general in...charge of Sacae is the Dragon General, Brunya. From what I know of her, she is a very chivalrous person."

"Perhaps. Father Sky was pleased by the respect she showed our dead. We continued our fight but...during the aftermath of one of our raids, I was separated from the clan. I eventually wound up in the custody of mercenaries, who were travelling west." Sue patted her mare's head. "During one night of drinking, I seized my horse, along with some other of their possessions, and fled west. My mother had lived in Lycia for some time and I knew that if I proved my heritage, I could gain asylum from one of the marquises."

Paris regarded her, "your mother must have been quite the powerful woman."

"She was the daughter of a marquis. Her name was Lyndis."

"You are Lady Lyndis' daughter?" At a nod from Sue, Paris lowly whistled. "No wonder why my father was so anxious to help you. Every person in Lycia adored Lady Lyn."

"That is what Lord Orun said. He also said that shortly before me, another man of my clan had passed through looking for me. I must find that man."

Paris nodded slowly. "In memory of my father, I shall take over his attempt to assist you. In these times, Lady Sue, it would be much safer for you if you stayed with us."

"Understandable. Thank you."

The two continued to talk as Roy watched from horseback, a slight frown set on his features. Though the Pheraen lord had understood that Wagner was a deceitful traitor, he was unsure as to the resulting death that the man suffered. Such brutality was something Roy, though he knew it was necessary at times, truly did not have a stomach for.

"Master Roy," the ever faithful Marcus was by his side once more, "is there something wrong?"

"No Marcus." Roy shook his head before shrugging. "Actually, there is. Why could we not have taken Wagner custody, tried him as a criminal, and then sentence him to hang?"

"What good would that be, Master Roy? Wagner would have still perished and justice would have been served."

The young man frowned again, "it'd be a fair trial, one in which he had a true chance of living or dying. It would be lawful."

"Master Roy, forgive my tone but," Marcus tugged on his beard, a habit of his, "did Lord Orun have a fair trial?"

The redhead sighed, "no. I know what you're saying Marcus, I just...I wish that death was not so needlessly thrown about."

"Mmm. Do you remember what I told Master Roy after returning to Pherae?"

"I remember Marcus, you don't have to knock into my head again." The noble chuckled as his retainer smiled fondly. "I just have such distaste for unnecessary violence. Surely, there are times when the only way to stop force is with force but..."

Marcus nodded, "it is understandable, Lord Roy."

"I am weak. I am not worthy of leading this army."

"Master Roy, do not say such things. You have received tutelage from some of the greatest minds in all of Elibe and swordsmanship from some of the greatest swordsmen in all of Lycia." Marcus cleared his voice softly, "you are more than worthy, sire."

Roy looked passively over towards the veteran knight before falling silent for a few moments. "Did my father have this problem? With dealing out violence?"

"Why," he smiled, "Lord Eliwood was just like you! In fact, he was even more, dare I say, bone headed! I only had to rap you twice on the head with my scabbard before you understood! For Lord Eliwood it took many more than that!"

"Really? I find it hard to believe that my father would be so...stubborn."

"With all respect towards Lord Eliwood," Marcus began, "he was quite possibly the most infuriating student I've ever had, Master Roy! Why, his swordsmanship was divine, the best I've ever seen! Intelligent as a whip, caring like a newborn's mother...yet, he absolutely refused to deal death!"

"Surely Marcus, Father was not faced with it very often?"

The Pheraen knight shook his head in disagreement. "On the contrary, he was in the field often. You see, although Pherae is largely devoid of bandits now, it was quite a different story all those years ago. Though many of us knights were never in true danger, the same could not be said of the villages. Although our campaign mostly ceased about five years ago, that was because it was a nearly forty year campaign."

He continued, "Nonetheless, Lord Eliwood often took the field against those blackhearts and performed extraordinarily well. However, he never took a life."

"Against bandits? How?"

"Through excellent swordsmanship. He would engage, defeat, and then disarm the enemy before imprisoning them."

Roy looked over curiously at Marcus, "when was the first time he took a life?"

"I remember it vividly." Marcus tugged on his beard again, causing Roy to smirk ever so slightly. "A group of brigands had seized a group of young children and held them hostage, demanding ransom for them. Though we managed to subdue the rest of his cronies and take most of the children back, the leader personally had a little girl with him. He taunted your father mercilessly, knowing that Lord Eliwood was not a killer. When the man put a knife to the girl's neck...your father struck out with his blade, piercing the man's heart."

"How did he react?"

"Lord Eliwood was stricken with grief, inconsolable for days. Though Lord Elbert tried to bring his spirits up, it was only until the little girl and her father came to thank him that Lord Eliwood began to understand the necessity of taking a life."

"Marcus," Roy spoke, "how old were you when you killed a man?"

"Older than you, Master Roy. I was still a squire at the time. The knight I was learning under had fallen from his horse in a battle." Marcus' eyes looked off to the distance and he reminisced, "I rode over to his side and dismounted, helping him to stand. As I was helping him, a mercenary had come over and attempted to cut us both down. In those days, taking a knight's head would fetch a handful of silver; I drew my blade and parried the man before I stabbed him in the neck. That was a long time ago but I still remember how surreal it felt."

"Have you ever gotten used to it?"

The paladin opened his mouth to respond before closing it, a hard set expression on his face. Slowly, he shook his head in the negative. "Used to the act? Perhaps. But used to the feeling? No."

Roy nodded slowly, "I hope I don't become used to it..."

"Don't worry Master Roy," Marcus allowed a small smile, "all of you Pheraen marquises are too good for that."

Over the expanse of Lycia, the rest of Pherae was dealing with its own predicament. Due to its relatively proximity to Araphen, word arrived in Pherae of Araphen's fall before it reached other Lycian provinces. As such, feelings were low within the prestigious Lycian state, due to a number of factors. Perhaps most understandably was the location of Pherae on the outskirts of the Lycian territories; standing precariously on the shared border between Berna nd Lycia, Pherae was one of the first lines of defense against the eastern kingdom. When it became known that the Kingdom of Bern had declared war and set out against the League of Lycia, many within Lycia expected and even planned for the fall of Pherae. Remarkably, though not entirely unsurprising due to Pherae's illustrious history, the little mountainous dukedom remained relatively untouched. Although border skirmishes were common and happened often, Pherae experienced a general peace.

Despite the lack of violence, the war had a profound effect upon Pherae. The villages that dotted the Pheraen countryside slowed trade and became much more self-sustaining than before, their inhabitants fearing a massive Bern onslaught or raiding parties. Town militias were constantly on high alert, manning their village walls nearly around the mark; so vigilant were the watchmen that more than one incident had occurred where an innocent traveler had been injured by an overzealous protector.

The guardians of the realm, the remnants of the Order, fiercely patrolled the areas immediately surrounding Castle Pherae. Outriders made almost constant rides to and from the borders and outlying towns, reporting their news back to the keep before setting out once more. Though exhausted with their constant movements, not a man complained or attempted to shirk their duties; they did not do such out of chivalrous duty but out of necessity, a primal sense of need that the current times had pressed onto them.

As commanders of the Knights of Pherae, the veteran knights of the Order often found themselves within different areas of Pherae, spread thin and unable to control every situation. Veteran warriors who had not been knighted like Wil and Dart found themselves commanding hardy militiamen and squires, attempting to make up for the lack of experience within the remaining knights. They found themselves overwhelmed as well, unable to overcome the massive burden that rest on the hearts of all of the people.

In truth, the only event that could save Pherae from eating itself from within was the revival of Lord Eliwood. The Marquis of Pherae had refused all visitors to his quarters for the past few days, leaving many to believe that the great man had finally given up his will to live. Despite all assurances from Eliwood's closest confidantes, many both within and outside the castle believed that the reaper had come for their lord.

Many of Lord Eliwood's closest friends found themselves gathered together in the main hall, an odd occurrence due to the times. Although they were not all servants under the Pheraen noble, they all served him as if they were; all companions and former comrades-in-arms of the Campaign of Fire some twenty years prior, there was no other man or woman they would trust more, besides a former comrade from the unknown war.

"Dart," Lowen lightly nodded towards the former pirate, "thank you greatly for all of your help these past few days. Yours as well Wil. It could not have been done without you."

Wolt's father nodded in return, a tired but boyish grin forming. "Of course Lowen. We're all Pheraens of course!"

"Aye, ye be right 'bout that 'un!" Dart ran a hand through his hair, temporarily removing his worn bandana. The militia captain had taken on possibly the most ambitious assignment, leading his hardy men on a four day trek through the unforgiving mountains that hemmed Pherae's east border. "Though, I won't be complainin' when I get me some grub in me belly!"

"Of course! That's why I simply demanded you all come here to the castle! Although I cannot adequately thank you for all that you have done to help," Pherae's sub-commander wrung his hands with joy, "I can definitely give you a good meal as a start!"

Dart and Wil's faces visibly lit up at this, causing Rebecca to sigh in annoyance. "Well, why didn't ye say so, ye old wardog!? Cap'n Dart knows how to work up an appetite, ye know?"

The former comrades all laughed at this, knowing well of Dart's voracious appetite; during the campaign twenty years prior, it was often said that without Dart, Hector, and Bartre, the small army would have used less than a quarter of the foodstuffs they did use! However, if there was any chef equal to the task of satiating Dart's rumblings, it was Lowen of Pherae; with nearly twenty years of culinary experience under his belt cooking for some of the largest stomachs in all of Lycia, Sir Lowen had long learned how to make a meal go a long way.

Within short order, the knight had an ornate meal set out amongst the private hall. As it was in all castles, Castle Pherae had two dining halls: one for official dinners and events, one for all other occasions. Due to the limited nature of the meal, Lowen had prepared the smaller hall, setting out the placements for the small group of friends. Due to the late mark that they were eating at, there were no servants present; for that reason, the only members joining the dinner were the Pheraen companions.

Watching as Lowen set the large boar down on the table with Harken's help, Dart smacked his lips loudly. "Well, I guess I can't be complainin' bout yer ability to throw down chow!"

"Brother," Rebecca slapped one of Dart's hands as it instantly flew towards the boar, "we're in the castle. Try to use dinnerware, please."

"Bah. I never understood the use of the damned things...why would ye use 'em!? All they do is slow down yer ability to shovel more food in yer gullet!"

Wil chuckled as he took his seat and helped himself to a vegetable dumplings, "because unlike you, Dart, we can't all inhale our food and still be hungry."

"As large as your appetite is, Sir Dart, I daresay that Sir Bartre could eat more food than I've ever seen!" Isadora smiled politely as she accepted a plate offered to her by Harken.

The man in question shrugged, "I don't know about that one. Lord Hector nearly ate an entire lamb here at a state dinner one time!"

"Oh!" Isadora chuckled, "I remember that! He eventually pulled the entire tray over to him because he kept reaching across the table!"

Lowen smiled softly, "Sir Marcus ordered that I immediately prepare another rump if he wanted more. He never got around to eating it though."

"On the contrary...he ate it later that night after you all retired." The voice caused the retainers to turn in shock. The weakened Marquis of Pherae, ailing though very much alive, walked slowly into the dinner hall, smiling at his dear friends. "I smelled your boar Lowen and I simply could not allow myself to pass up on this opportunity."

"Lord Eliwood!" Harken immediately leapt to his feet to assist Eliwood before he was waved off, concern dominating his face.

"I have made it across the entire castle like this, though slowly. I can make it a bit farther." Eliwood shuffled across the room before plopping into his usual chair, a rustic yet comfortable chair that did nothing to indicate his status. "Lowen, would you mind it if I ask you to get me a nice portion of that boar? I've always loved the way you prepare them."

"Of course sire!"

As the knight began to carve into the pig, the rest of the Pheraens looked at their lord with concern. At Eliwood's questioning look, Isadora spoke quietly in reply. "Lord Eliwood, how are you feeling?"

The noble gratefully thanked Lowen before quickly cutting through a piece of the meat; nearly tossing it into his mouth, Marquis Pherae nearly sighed with satisfaction before addressing Isadora's question. "This is the best I have felt in nearly a month. Perhaps longer. I could actually force myself upright last night and, as is obvious, get up and walk around. I am ashamed to admit that I practiced getting my feet under me further. I didn't wish to fall where others could see me - though I definitely did so earlier!"

If the others were worried about the fall, Eliwood's heartfelt chuckle put their fears to rest. Rebecca was the first to speak, "it is good to see you up and feeling better, milord."

Eliwood smiled as the others quickly agreed with the archer. "Yes. It is. But what's better is this boar! Quit worrying about me and enjoy Lowen's meal!"

With that simple statement, the mood in the room instantly brightened; one of the more curious servants went to investigate the laughter that followed shortly after and found his lord up and enjoying life. Within the night, word drifted from the castle that Lord Eliwood was recovering. By the time dawn came, all of Pherae knew that their beloved leader was alive and the paranoia that plagued the dukedom was quickly dispelled by hope.

Across the great plains south of Ostia, the Lycian Army had paused their march. Although the large host numbered well into the hundreds, the number of fires within the camp did not reflect their numbers adequately. Due to both the limitations of their resources as well as the natural push for brotherhood, many of the Lycian soldiers converged together with one another and acted as brothers. Eating and regaling stories of their past and of their homes, these men began to develop bonds and connections expected of an army's rank and file.

What was incredible, however, was the fact that generations-long dislikes and rivalries were dispelled. Although the differences had been apparent in Araphen with their lords still alive, with Lord Hector's death and their unification under Master Roy's guidance, the men of Lycia bonded together and acted as Lycians, their political and even cultural divides quickly being washed away by necessity. Spurred along by Mark's consolidation of the remaining knights, many of the soldiers kept their former regional crests if only to distinguish themselves for organizational reasons; indeed, there was even popular talk amongst the men of reestablishing the legendary crest of Roland, a lion that differed from Ostia's own standard.

In many ways, Roy had accomplished what was once believed to be impossible. The young lord of Pherae had united the divided territories of Lycia under one banner, a feat that had not been done since Roland. In this, regardless if Roy emerged victorious in his struggle, he would be forever remembered as the man who managed to unite them under his sword. The young lord's natural charisma, honesty, and potential brought hope and devotion to the Lycian faithful; their loyalty to the young master was so great that they would follow him to the last, many of them empowered and moved by the sacrifice of the mighty Lord Hector. The Lord of Lycia's fall was such a moving event that they would not abandon their new commander in his time of need - regardless of what lay ahead.

The young Pheraen noble had no notions of leading his men into peril, however. While the rest of his army relaxed by their small fires, the commander sat out with his maps while a frown sat affixed to his face. His companions, the commanders and tactical advisors for the army, sat close to him, their visual expressions mimicking Roy's own; all eyes peered down at the largest map, one that reflected the city of Ostia and the area surrounding it. Various x's and o's were drawn on the slightly worn parchment, their black markings contrasting greatly to the browns under them.

Although the common rank and file were seemingly overjoyed by the prospect of reaching Ostia, the army's commanders held such feelings at arm's length. In particular, the elder and more experienced commanders such as Mark, Marcus, Sain, and Dieck were the ones with the most verbal trepidations, noting how odd it was that they had yet to encounter any Ostian patrols or visitors from the city. Although it had been rationalized that the city had been closed from the inside from fear of Bern attacks, it did nothing to help the anxiety that the generals felt.

"Rikard," Mark looked to the Ostian captain, "who did Lord Hector leave in charge of Ostia while he was at Araphen?"

"General Leygance. He is one of Ostia's senior commanders, his tenure surpassed only by General Oswin. I know not why Lord Hector trusted Ostia to him..."

"General Leygance is untrustworthy?"

Rikard shook his head at Roy's question, "not so much untrustworthy as ambitious. He has climbed up the ladder through shrewdness and an ability to see openings. He's less like a snake and more like a vulture."

"That may be even worse than if he was untrustworthy. At least with an untrustworthy man, you know what side he's on. With an opportunistic one..."

"You never know what you'll get." Dieck finished Paris' sentence, understanding the age-old saying that an untrustworthy ally is your foe's friend. "What do you think is Leygance's stance?"

"I imagine," Rikard stroked his beard, "he'll be inclined to stay in line with Lord Hector's plans as long as Lord Hector is alive. However, should General Leygance discover that Lord Hector has perished..."

"Then there is no telling what he'll do." The Ostian nodded at Mark. "When the leader falls, so does the snake rear its head..."

"Mark, Lord Roy," Sain spoke up, "isn't it odd that we have not encountered any Ostian patrols? Or for that matter, anyone in general?"

"Oh, good point Sir Sain. I didn't even notice that..."

"Fear not, Master Roy," Marcus nodded towards the suddenly downcast youth, "nor did I." The veteran knight's eyes betrayed his words, however. "One would think that with Lycia at war, patrols would be constantly flowing from the city."

Mark nodded, "indeed. That means one of two things: Leygance has either shut Ostia's doors completely or he is in dealings with Bern."

"Or both."

Sain looked over to Lance for a short moment before agreeing with the young knight, "aye. It'd be quite the...burden if General Leygance is in league with Bern."

"Burden?" Dieck asked, "Ostia is known as the Impregnable Castle. I'd say it'd be much more than a burden."

Roy nodded in agreement, "if Leygance shuts himself up in Castle Ostia and sides with Bern, we'd be crushed against Leygance's anvil and Bern's hammer. We would surely fall."

"Perhaps we should bring the battle to Bern then?"

"What do you mean, Sir Paris?"

"Instead of crushing ourselves in a fruitless attack on Ostia's walls and then being engaged from behind, perhaps we can bring the attack on Bern?" Paris pointed to a spot on the map north of Laus. "We can double back and lay in wait just south of the Laus Mountains. Here, with surprise and terrain knowledge on our side, we can engage the Bern force and attempt to throw it in disarray as well as hopefully render it unable to really march around the countryside."

"It seems a sound plan. I cannot think of one that can serve us better. What do you think, Mark?"

The master tactician regarded his charge for a moment before pinching his lower lip slightly with his thumb and forefinger. A brief moment of silence passed before Mark's calm voice drifted through the air. "We will attack Castle Ostia."

Numerous pairs of shocked eyes looked at the man before Roy mumbled out a reply. "Attack Ostia? But that's madness..."

Mark clicked his tongue, "not quite, milord. There is no such thing as a perfect castle, nor is there such thing as an unassailable keep. Ostia prides itself on the strength of its defense and of its walls, but the truth of the matter is that they can fall like any other stronghold. There is a way around Ostia and there is a way through it. All that matters is when we do it and not how."

Mark retrieved a book from his satchel, thumbing through a few pages before placing it carefully back in the cloth folds. He looked through the maps that cluttered the small table before moving a medium sized map to the top of the stack. What was drawn on the parchment was a detailed plot of Ostia's layout, including many of its notable landmarks, such as the bazaar and the arena; the walls were shown alongside the towers and stairways, granting a good picture of Ostia's defenses.

"Ostia, contrary to popular belief, is definitely not impregnable. It is daunting and it is impressive but it has weaknesses. See this section of wall right here?" He pointed to a section of the Wall of Roland, "Ostia was built against a river, a river that has largely dried up. However, the riverbank and uneven elevation remains. Because of this, we can actually get through the wall."

"Forgive me, Mark," Marcus grunted, "but I do not see how."

"Well, the Marble Corridor is nothing more than a speed bump. In fact, I'd be surprised if it stalled us at all if we can open the gatehouse. But we can get through the Wall of Roland not by going through it...but by going under it." When he was met by confused eyes, he continued. "Because of how heavy the wall is, it will collapse under its own weight if we remove the ground beneath it. To that effect, we will tunnel under it. Remove enough of the ground to allow the top layer of the ground to give away and with it, the wall."

"How would we ever be able to get away with that without being seen?"

Mark looked at Alan for a moment before replying, "that's why we use the difference in elevation between the riverbank and what used to be the riverbed. We will need to distract the attention of the guards but otherwise..."

"We should be able to burrow undetected."

Mark nodded, "precisely Master Roy. This is all dependent on whether Leygance is still loyal to Lord Hector or not. If he is, it should be no problem. If not..."

The appearance of one of the guards caused Mark to shush himself. Eying the man, Roy gave a confirmation to speak; the soldier, perhaps no older than Master Roy himself, saluted sloppily as his sword knocked against his shield. "Master Roy, sirs, there is a man nearby requesting an audience with you. He claims he is in service to Ostia."

"Ostia? Allow him in, please. We will meet him."

"Of course Master Roy."

The guard disappeared into the dark before he reappeared, a dark figure behind him. Stepping aside, the figure stepped forward to present himself. Drawing back his hood, a familiar face awaited a few of the men in the group.

"Matthew?" Sain inquired, follow by a curt nod, "it has been too long."

"Yes, it has. It is good to see you, Sain. And you as well Sir Marcus. Sir Paris, Sir Rikard..." The veteran spy nodded to each man in turn before he settled on the two farthest from him. "Mark...I'm not surprised. I am happy to see you." The two exchanged slight smiles before Matthew turned to the boy to his side. "Master Roy. It has been many years since I have last seen you - it does my heart good to know you are safe and in good health."

"I remember you. You're Lord Hector's man, the one who would stop by the castle every so often."

"Matthew of Ostia, at your service sire." He bent low, before frowning. "I have important news for you and for the Lycian Army."

Roy nodded and offered Matthew a skin of water, "we would hear your news, Matthew."

"Thank you milord," Matthew took the skin gratefully before gulping down a mouthful of water. Sitting on a log beside Sain, the spy began to speak. "First, let me describe the situation within Ostia - it is most perilous and most unstable. General Leygance has betrayed Lord Hector, that much is evident. He has hired men in his personal name and has drawn one of the four Ostian commanders, Sir Devias, into his fold; he has imprisoned Sir Bors in the castle dungeons and has imprisoned Lady Lilina. Furt-"

"Lilina has been taken captive!?"

Matthew looked over to the young lord and nodded slowly, "aye, Master Roy. She is unharmed, so far as we know, but still captive nonetheless. She is at Leygance's mercy. However," Matthew took another quick sip, "while Leygance holds all of the legal power, he does not hold Ostia. There is a rather large number of men who opposed Leygance and support Lord Hector; Sir Barth and Sir Zealot, an Ilian mercenary hired by Lord Hector, lead quite a few number of loyal knights and mercenaries who dislike Leygance. We had the people's support and the legitimacy of the law on our side until..."

"Until what?"

"Until Leygance issued his proclamation a few days ago. He stated that there would be a giant tournament tournament on, well, tomorrow morning. And," Matthew continued, "the prize is Lady Lilina's hand in marriage."

"How can that be?" Roy spoke almost immediately. "Leygance cannot offer his liege lady's hand in marriage!"

"Master Roy," Matthew spoke, "forgive my saying this, but Leygance can do anything he pleases. As long as Lady Lilina is within his grasp, he can say and do anything in her name."

"Including saying he has her blessings..." Sain muttered.

"Sir Matthew," Roy started, "what do you believe we should do?"

Matthew looked at Mark for a moment before the two nodded, Mark seemingly picking up on what the spy was going to say. "Sir Zealot has agreed to send his men one after another in order to attempt to take out Leygance and his four cronies. That was our only plan until, well, Kent alerted one of my agents to your movements across Lycia. Therefore, Master Roy, we believe that our best course of action is for you to send your best...sixty knights or so into the arena alongside Zealot's mercenaries. Meanwhile, I will sneak in those knights as well as any men that do not bear a crest into Ostia, alongside you. Then my associate Astol will bring you into the castle where..."

"Where you shall rescue Lady Lilina." Mark finished. "I'm impressed Matthew. It's a very comprehensive plan. Why, though, do men who don't serve a country are the ones to enter the castle?"

"The only people allowed within the castle are Leygance's mercenaries and the Ostian knights that are loyal to him. If any knight other than his own were discovered..."

"It would ruin the entire plan." Roy nodded, "very well, Sir Matthew. Shall we move camp then and enter the city now?"

Matthew shook his head, "not yet. Early in the morning, when people shall be busy trying to accomplish their tasks before heading to the arena. No one will notice."

"I suppose that this begs the question of who shall enter the arena." Sain looked to the Lycian commander, "your thoughts, Master Roy?"

The young Pheraen pondered the question for a minute, wondering how such a task would be accomplished. Unlike during peacetime, where duels could be constructed, the Lycian Army did not have such a luxury. As such, all judgments were made based on prior performance and common testimony. "Have the squad commanders nominate their top two men. With the number of squads under each arm, we should have enough to enter our men and put a good deal of pressure upon Leygance."

"Yes sir," Sain nodded, "I'll relay the order."

Watching as Sain and Rikard jogged off, Roy turned towards his retainers. "Alan, Lance, you two are to enter. Marcus...see if you can find a suit of armor that is stripped. Merlinus will likely have some spare suits. You are all allowed to leave - rest up for the morrow." The three men rapped their breasts before bowing and exiting the small gathering. The general turned then to Paris, "I suppose you should relay the orders as well. If necessary, you shall act as our base commander in my absence, with Sain as your second."

"Hopefully such measures will not be needed."

Roy nodded as Paris bid farewell to the men remaining. "Dieck," the mercenary perked up, "collect your men as well as the various non-knights we have - Lady Clarine, that swordsman that follows her, Lugh, so on. They'll be alongside us."

"What of Father Saul and Dorothy? They as well?"

"Yes. I suppose having a priest wouldn't hurt our cover."

Dieck bowed low, causing Roy to fidget. "As you command sire."

"Mark, is there anything you'd like to add?"

The master strategist looked over to the teen for a moment before a small smile emerged, followed by a short shake of the head. "No...I don't think there's anything I need to say. Be sure to rest well, Master Roy."

"Very well then. Mark, Matthew," he knocked his knuckles to his chest, "goodnight."

"Goodnight Master Roy." Mark murmured before the young lord wandered off into the night to his tent, leaving the two friends as the only ones around the dying embers. The cracks from the small flames broke the stillness of the dark before a loud yawn from Matthew dispelled it completely. "Tired, Matthew?"

"Perhaps. It's been...quite busy as of late." The lean fighter sprawled out over one of the logs by the fire, reminding Mark all too much of a cat. "As I'm sure you know."

A small chuckle, "you can say that, I suppose. I'd prefer being busy compared to what I was doing however."

"Oh?" A sly grin, "how was spending time with Legault and Heath?"

Matthew's comment, and the intonation within, led Mark to smile softly - of course Matthew would know who Mark was with, though not necessarily where he was. "It was...interesting to say the least. They were...annoying at times."

"How surprising. Actually," he smiled again, "not at all." The spy suddenly shifted then, gazing at Mark. "What do you think? Think we have a chance? That he does?"

Mark paused for a moment, silently closing his eyes; he calmly exhaled, a small smile spreading over his features. "He is young...he has much to learn. But when he does learn it all - everything I have to offer, everything Marcus has, everything the enemy has - he will become the greatest general in Elibe. He will surpass his father, Lord Hector, General Douglas, King Zephiel...he will become greater than the lords of old - Ferenan of Ostia, Zemma of Bern, Gerald of Etruria. Perhaps even greater than Roland, Barigan, Athos, Hartmut." Mark opened his eyes, "Mark my words, Matthew, young Roy will become one of the greatest heroes Elibe has ever seen."

Slightly north of the Lycian Army lay Ostia; as one of the Elibe's largest cities, the Lycian capital seemingly never came to a halt. Although the merchant shops and bazaar stalls closed around sundown, Ostian nightlife flourished in other ways. The taverns and bars that dotted the interior of the city were alive well into the night as workers, mercenaries, and the destitute gave their copper and silver pieces to the barkeeps to drink their woes, worries, and anger away. With the almost never ending consumption of alcohol by these men, fights often arose - although many of these fights were broken up by the strong armed men that the bar employed, some could not be contained. Many times, these brawls would spill out into the streets where one man would often either end up imprisoned or killed in the streets.

What was unusual about this night, however, was there were no fights or brawls; the Ostian constables were usually run ragged by the constant disturbances created by the drunkards. Therefore, the complete inaction during the night had startled the guards but - perhaps intelligently - did not question it. For this reason, the streets were left mostly deserted by both belligerent and constable. The lack of people gave a sense of serenity to the city, a quietness that was not often found within Ostian walls.

As he looked out over the ramparts of Castle Ostia, Leygance was well aware of both the last time Ostia was so quiet and the reason it was currently. Ostia had last silenced itself with the departure of Lord Hector; a collective breath had been held, fear and worry permeating from the city. On this night, however, a different feeling held reign over the city.

With the tournament laying upon the morrow, the city retired early in preparation for the event. Some taverns even closed their doors early, issuing last call over four candlemarks earlier than normal; even the habitual drunkards had retired early, helping to further the eerie silence.

Leygance couldn't help but feel calmed by the sereneness of it all. Though tomorrow was likely the most important day of his life, he was not nervous - in fact, he was anything but. Perhaps it was the fact that he finally would achieve his life's goal of limitless power or that his plan had worked to complete perfection but General Leygance felt nearly giddy for what lay before him. All that lay in his path was the faux tournament that he had slightly influenced; contacting various knights that were loyal to him as well as noblemen and their sons that lost from Hector's rule, Leygance had manipulated the entrants into the tournament. With one of his men entering at almost every point, he would have the advantage of numbers with every round - there was almost no possible way he could lose. Though Devias had pointed out that the last candlemark of battle time would be open to all comers, Leygance was confident he would emerge right where he wanted to be.

He didn't let his confidence turn into arrogance; he had implemented numerous safety nets to ensure that the tables did not turn on him. Knowing that Barth was out in the city alongside the Ilian mercenaries Hector hired, Leygance was not stupid enough to leave himself open to an attack by the Ostian. He had commanded Devias to stay within the castle and defend the gatehouse of the Lion's Hold against any possible intruders. The Steward of Ostia also left behind most of the Ostian knights loyal to him as well as a handful of mercenaries to ensure that Devias had plenty of men to defend the castle with; in addition to these men, Leygance had left two guards by Lilina's bedchambers to ensure of her disposal, should the general become incapacitated.

In reality, Leygance was playing a very dangerous gambit. All privy to the inner workings of Ostia, as well as knowledge of Araphen, knew that Hector (and by extension, Lilina) possessed the final say in all matters and that nothing could be accomplished without their say so. For Leygance to have the propensity to declare not only a large civil event but one in his liege's name was problem enough; for him to further state that it was for his lady's hand in marriage was simply treasonous. He knew that if he did not consolidate all realms of power and authority under him in the few moments upon the morrow, he would be strung up as a traitor.

If he could keep Lilina quiet, however, he had no reason to worry. As long as the young woman was under his thumb, he held all legality behind his words; Sir Barth, the biggest thorn in his side, possessed no true legal power behind his actions making him the traitor in the eyes of the League. If Leygance could hold onto his trump card, all would be well.

He thumbed the sword pommel at his side, casting a small glance over to the arena. So lost in his own thoughts was the general that he didn't notice his lieutenant draw near till he was tapped on the shoulder. "Hrm?"

"Milord," Devias tapped his chest, the sound slightly padded due to the heavy cloth he wore, "are you alright?"

The blonde man nodded slowly, "yes. Just...thinking."

"About tomorrow?"

"Aye." He nodded, "do you believe we will pull this off?"

The portly man stopped for a moment before he mimicked the action. "You've made sure there's nothing that can slip through the cracks. It is your crowning achievement, General."

"I certainly hope so." Leygance sighed softly before eyeing his friend. "Was there something you needed?"

"Yes, sir. Captain Erde of the Bloodtooth Knights - the mercenaries you hired from Bern - is curious as to what he shall be doing in the arena."

Leygance nodded slowly. Erde was one of the most renowned pitfighters in all of Elibe at one point before he started his own mercenary group - a collective unit that were nothing more than organized highway men for the most part. Nonetheless, the man was a fearsome fighter, possibly the best in Leygance's employ. "He is to be near my side throughout the entire tournament. If he is able to last the entire tournament alongside me...tell him his pay is to be tripled."

Devias raised an eyebrow. "Tripled, sire?" A nod. "I will tell him. Anything else sire?"

"No...no, that will do."

Watching as Devias left, Leygance felt his eyes drift back to the arena. Though the scenery had not shifted, something within him had. Even though he had one of the best warriors around by his side, the Ostian general could not shake the sinking feeling in his stomach.

Another log was added to the fire, causing sparks to shoot up and out from the small pile; the yellow and orange flames licked at the new addition, quickly beginning to add it to the ashy pile at the bottom. The ailing fire was one of the few left within the war camp as most others had been extinguished or had been allowed to burn out as their caretakers retired for the night. The fire and his lone overseer carried on well into the night, the man adding another fuel source every so often to keep his primeval companion alive.

Isolated from most of the rest of the camp, Edward picked up the long stick he had been using to churn up the embers; prodding the bottom of the fire, the young knight stared at his lone companion, watching the flames lick the bark of the new piece of wood. Another prod sent the wood into the embers; the Caelin knight grabbed a handful of leaves and tossed them into the embers as well, causing small flames to sprout and grab hold of the bark. Satisfied that the fire did not need any further maintenance, he sat back and stared at it, losing himself in it as he had been for the past few candlemarks.

He had been joined with Eris and other Caelin knights earlier in the evening, where they laughed much of the night away, their spirits risen higher than they had been in weeks. Only wearing his breastplates and armed only with a side sword, it was the most comfort he had experienced since the force had arrived in Araphen. All of knights welcomed the relative feeling of freedom and expressed thus, some even wearing only their trousers and a shirt, relishing the chance to go without their equipment for the night. Ever the dutiful knight, however, the son of Sain chose to at least wear his breastplate in case of emergency.

Like most of the Lycian Army, the Caelin knights began to dwindle as they retreated for the night; eventually leaving Edward and Eris alone, the two had talked long into the night before she withdrew from the conversation, citing fatigue. Eris' retiring for the night left Edward alone by the fire and though he knew he needed to sleep before tomorrow, he felt no closer to sleep than he did three candlemarks ago. So he carried on with the fire, keeping it alive to keep him company before he too was forced to retire for the night.

The knight thumbed the Caelin crest upon his breast, absentmindedly frowning. Try as he might, Edward did not truly feel a connection with the rest of the Lycian Army. Though he was Caelin by heritage and through blood, he had only lived within Caelin recently; as far as he was concerned, he was not from Caelin. It was hard, therefore, for him to associate himself as a true Lycian - though he recognized himself as a Lycian knight, he did not consider himself a Lycian man.

He felt misplaced, an outsider privy to the inside. Listening to the men speak of their marquises and of their lords, Edward felt a pang of longing. He and his father had lived within Caelin for the better part of the decade and served in the Caelin army but he had never been officially knighted. Sain still was officially a knight in service to Caelin but Edward was nothing more than a freelance knight, given a chance to fight in Caelin because of his father's ties and history. He was a knight without lord or home, a wayfarer who gave no allegiance.

He had experienced a small taste of serving a lord in Araphen under Lord Hector but after the general's untimely death, Edward was once again left without a leader. Roy of Pherae led him now but due to Mark's micromanagement of the army, it felt as though the strategist was the real leader and Roy was a mere figurehead - perhaps that was the reason why the knight consistently sought out the brilliant tactician.

Ed's head shot up as he heard the sound of footsteps behind him. Turning ever so slightly, he looked into the dark as a white figure emerged into the firelight. Recognizing the sister, the knight smiled and nodded. "Evening, Lady Ellen."

"Hello Sir..." Her smile shifted slightly, "I'm afraid I do not know your name, Sir Knight."

"Edward, Lady Ellen. It is nice to make your acquaintance."

"You as well Sir Edward. Please, do not call me Lady Ellen - I am not royal, only a simple sister in the church. Miss Ellen if you must."

Edward smiled wider, "Miss Ellen it is then. What brings you so far from Princess Guinevere's tent this evening?"

The cleric stepped forward, her mouth set in a line. "I suppose I simply couldn't sleep and set myself to wandering." She gestured to the edge of the log he sat on. "May I?"

"Of course." He slid over to the other end, "I suppose a war camp is definitely one of the safer places to be at night...though, a pretty lady like yourself still has to watch their backs after all..."

An awkward silence settled then as neither knew what else to say. The two settled upon watching the fire dance, continuing to lap at the log that was quickly turning black. A few more minutes dragged by before the woman spoke softly. "You are in service to Caelin?"

A nod, "aye. Recently designated commander as well - though more due to the lack of experience than of personal accomplishment."

"Commander? But you're so young!" She paused at this smiled slightly, stifling a giggle. "Well, you seem older than I but still young to command! Er...not that I meant any disrespect to your abilities..."

The knight grinned widely as he chuckled, "no no no! I agree with you completely! I chanced on this solely because of the fact that our ranks were...depleted at Araphen. Many of our knights remaining are almost as young as I am!"

"Oh my...I am sorry to hear about your losses, Sir Edward."

"As am I..." Deciding to move quickly from the sobering subject, he jumped to the first thought that crossed his mind. "I noticed you were carrying a staff a few days ago, Miss Ellen. Do you know how to use them?"

"Quite so. The Church tries to teach all of their members to use magic staves - light magic as well in some cases, though it is not as common." A shrug, "I've been using staves even before I joined the Church, so I suppose it is second nature to me. I do not think much of it."

"You knew how to use magic staves before you joined the church?"

"Not very proficiently but enough to begin to tap into their power. I am rather proficient with them...I wish I could say the same about using holy magic."

A soft chuckle, "I wish the same could be said for me. I would probably blow myself up if I even attempted using magic..."

"Surely that would be a sight to see!" She laughed softly, raising her hand in front of her mouth to seem polite. Another moment of silence before she once again broke it. "I admit...it's very pleasant to be able to talk to you so freely - being that you're a male and a stranger after all. And a knight to boot! I'm afraid to admit that I thought you Lycians were something of a backwards people..."

"Backwards?" Edward blinked, "is that how we are presented in Bern?"

"I'm ashamed to admit that's the case. It was mostly the former king, King Desmond, who made it seem that way. He tended to paint all other nations in a rather negative light...King Zephiel did nothing to help that cause either."

"How long have you been at Princess Guinevere's side?"

A short pause, "three, maybe four years. Why?"

"Did you ever meet King Zephiel?"

The cleric nodded slowly, "a few times. Never personally. Whenever he would come to visit Milady, he would whisk her away to some part of the castle."

Edward frowned, "so you don't know what he's like? Shame."

"Well," she tapped a finger to her chin, "I would describe him as...fierce. His eyes always possessed this inner fire, almost like an ambition that can't be sated. But I've heard him speak and he's incredibly intelligent...possibly the smartest person I've ever met if I'll be honest."

"I see." He tapped his foot lightly. "Will you be with Her Majesty tomorrow, Miss Ellen?"

"No," a shake of the head, "Milady instructed me to do as Master Mark wished - I'll be with those in the arena, healing any wounds as needed. It is the least I can do."

"Oh? Well, it will be good to have such a capable healer at my back." At Ellen's questioning look, he elaborated. "I'll be fighting in the arena tomorrow at Master Roy's command. I know only of a few of the knights who will be fighting - Captain Canaan, Dame Eris, Sirs Alan and Lance - but it is still a good feeling to know we are in capable hands."

"As God wills, I shall serve you well Sir Edward. Though...I cannot work miracles Sir Edward. Please come back to our staves alive."

"Don't worry Miss Ellen," the fire flickered and died, "I wouldn't dream of anything else."

Sorry this took me so long to update. It has been a busy few months for me. Regardless, R and R please. Thank you.