"Little by little, squire!"

Joyeuse was watching as Sir Frederick's young squire was practicing the technique of lance work against a quintain. A lance could not be held lowered before the charge - the bounce of riding would make it hard to aim. To be landed hard and true, it had to be lowered into its final position as close to the target as possible.

But that poor squire had lowered the lance too fast, and even the bounce of the tilting cart he rode was enough to miss. As he did, he smacked face first into the quintain's target and almost fell over into the other squire pushing it from behind.

"That has to hurt," Sybilla remarked as she had seen it, her free right hand resting on the lowered bevor that was attached to her helmet.

Joy nodded as an answer back, before slapping her own visor down. "So, again?" the Warden asked as she hefted up the wooden longsword she had instead of Dusk.

"Alright." The other woman agreed as she brought up and locked the bevor, drawing a wooden blade similar to the cavalry sword she usually had to pair with her heater shield. The two saluted with their swords, and went at it again.

The two dames had come to the training grounds outside The Shard, not far from the main road, along with the majority of the knights garrisoned or visiting the capital of the Blackstone Legion. Training never ended, so when at peace and without another duty to see to a knight's morning was spent at the quintain or pell practicing martial technique. Even better, however, was to spar with another knight, even if it was with wasters.

Though the best experience came from the real thing, the truth was that sparring would chip, fatigue, and wear down blades. It would simply ruin such relatively expensive weapons even if they were properly tended to afterwards. For daily practice, the use of wooden training swords - wasters - was the best option. If it broke, it was cheap to replace.

And that was before considering the dangers of full contact sparring. Much as Joy preferred genuine experience, she accepted why day-to-day such was irresponsibly dangerous. Even with the wasters, she could not be careless as they still packed enough weight to hurt if she failed to defend herself. And an unlucky blow to something particularly vulnerable, like the neck? Accidents happened, sometimes fatally.

Catching a downward strike with a half sworded parry, Joy pushed back and managed to unsteady Sybilla's footing, leaving her face unguarded for a vital moment. Joy struck three times in close succession with the flat of the crossguard, hitting both the sallet and bevor with the blows.

"Ow, okay, that was a good one!" Sybilla conceded as she staggered back and regained her footing. She raised her shield to protect her face, likely running that same hand along the helmet to reassure herself it was undamaged.

"Call it returning the blow from yesterday," the Warden answered as she felt the initial smile she had from pulling that off fade. She had used the flat, but perhaps had been over enthusiastic about applying the strokes. Then again, Sybilla had knocked Joy right off the horse when practicing combat from horseback the day before - fair was fair.

The normally mounted knight answered by pushing forward again, shield and waster in close succession as she tried to fix Joy's own weapon with one to strike with the other. They went back and forth, trying to push the other into exhaustion in a rapid series of strikes. It continued until as they were both tiring Joy managed to shove her full weight into Sybilla as she was unbalanced again by a deflection putting her sword arm too far to the side.

The Warden followed up immediately with another strike, and the other knight fell onto her back yet again. Joy stood above her opponent, pointing the tip of the waster against the brigandine plate and pressing against the rigid metal strips. The knight on her back let go of her own practice sword and held her hand open palmed as both were breathing hard from the exertion.

"I yield," the beaten cavalrywoman conceded.

Joy stepped back, pulling the wooden blade away and lifting her visor. "Well fought."

Sybilla half rolled over in the grass once she had unlocked and lowered her bevor to breathe easier, then pushed herself back up to her feet and collected her sword. "Likewise. Though I think I am going to stop while I can still walk."

"Certainly, we've been at it all morning."

As Sybilla reached her feet, she glanced towards the fort, then back to Joy. "Too bad you won't be available tomorrow. Bruising as it is, this has really helped my footwork."

"Maybe," the Warden answered as she faintly smiled, "but your agility could use some work."

"Well then, that's what we have an obstacle course for."

The two women glanced towards where said obstacle course had been set up, one that a Lawbringer that Joy did not recognize was running through at the moment. The course was meant to test all the skills of agility, as knights had to be able to fight, mount a horse, jump, climb a ladder, and even swim in full armor. Good armor design distributed the weight across the body, but that only went so far. To account for the rest, physical training was paramount, and so they ran the obstacle course in armor. Even, or perhaps especially, Lawbringers.

"Anyways," the other young knight continued, "I should go check on Phoebus. It's not that I don't trust the stablehands here, but he is my horse."

Joy nodded. A warhorse was just as vital to a cavalryman as her longsword was to her. "I can return the waster, if you are finished for today."

She tossed the weapon over and the Warden caught it with her free hand. "Thank you. I'll see you after lunch, then?"

"Until then."

The two parted ways, Sybilla making her way towards the fortress itself, while Joy tossed the second waster into the same hand as her own and made her way towards the end of the training field. A tent had been erected there to store the sheer number of practice weapons of all types and sizes for use by the knights, from polearms to swords to bows. It also had several piles of rags and water troughs for the knights to use, all kept ready by the various pages and squires not working on their own martial training at the moment.

Once she had returned the two wasters, Joy went to the nearest available water trough, pulling her helmet off as she did so. Though some of the sweat had started to dry, the cold drip was still streaking down all across her body. Even more so as her blonde braid bounced with the motion of removing the helmet and setting it next to the water trough she had chosen.

"Even caked in sweat, a dame's beauty remains."

Joyeuse felt her entire body tense as she heard the pass directed at her just as she had started to reach into the trough. Once the initial reaction passed, she let her shoulders sag, exhaling as she turned to answer properly. "Charming, but wh-" she suddenly stopped as she saw a familiar squared face, but far better kept than the first time she had seen it. "Stone?"

"Too much?" the Conqueror asked as he shrugged, skull-decorated helmet tucked under his arm. "Yeah, too much. Definitely too much."

"What are you even doing here?" she asked as she felt like the other leg was going to be pulled at any moment. "I thought you went back to Harrowgate."

"I did, but Apollyon called me for this summit." He glanced at the fortress, then back to her with a shrug. "I guess my opinion matters."

A few of the other Blackstones were giving the two second glances, and Joy held a hand up. "I need to wash my face, we can talk on the way back to the fort."

"Yeah, no problem." He took a step back, then muttered a bit more under his breath. "Probably should've waited…"

Yes, he should have. Still, she kept smiling even as her gauntlets made the job of splashing water onto her face and wiping with a rag more annoying than usual. Good friends had been hard to come by on the road, and after the campaign she had wanted to keep Stone as a friend even if they were separated by where they were garrisoned.

And maybe a sense of being able to let her guard down. Oh sure, she could spar, talk, and game with any of the knights in Cross' retinue, but she was a newcomer amongst them. With Stone, they were both newcomers to the Blackstone Legion even if Stone had been born in Ashfeld. And he was Iron Legion that at least tried to live up to the ideal, even if he could no longer wear the colors.

Scooping her helmet back up and tucking it under her arm, she noticed that Stone also had a saddlebag that was resting at his hip, hung by a strap, and he was opening the flap.

"By the way," the Conqueror started as they made their way towards the fortress, "some adventurer had stopped at Harrowgate. He said he was hired to deliver letters, including some for you."

"From who?" she asked, a mind awhirl to both the letters she had sent… God, had it been months ago? And she hadn't tried to write home in the summer since? Of course not, she remembered. It is too far for regular letters to be sent.

"I didn't open them," he added as he reached into the satchel and pulled one out, "but two of them had a big unicorn on the seal, so…"

Joyeuse stopped where she was and snatched the letter straight out of his hands, looking at the seal. Yes, she recognized it: how could she not recognize the sigil of her house?

Breaking the wax seal, it surprised her how ravenous it must have looked as the Conqueror just stood there, reaching a hand towards the back of his neck and looking around as she read the letter from her older brother.

Joyeuse, I pray that this letter finds you alive and in good health. Your last letter came with word of your deeds at Harrowgate. And just as you have grown, I now write back as Count of Sandshore Castle as our mother has stepped down. As such we must first confront the business of state in your newfound service in the Blackstone Legion.

With the truth of the Iron Commanders' fall now without a doubt by their retreat from Ashfeld, the question of oaths lay before us. Alas, much as I might wish it, it is our will that House Maylis not offer the Blackstone Legion the fealty we once gave the Iron Legion. Our matters are too far from Ashfeld for those oaths to be meaningful by either party. Regardless, give our regards to the Blackstone Legion's master, from one sovereign to another.

Putting aside the business of state, let me write to you as the two of us will always remain: as siblings. I may be Count and the head of our house now, but you have forged your own path. If what we have heard of Harrowgate is even half true, mere words could not express how proud we all are of your achievements. I am sure you have countless stories to tell from your campaign, and I wish that there was room in a letter for all of them.

Unfortunately, things are not all well at home. As I write this, Lord Frolboruss has been receiving support from outside our realm to lay claim to Blackhawk Castle, to dispose Guillaume as a pretender. I know that you may feel the need to rush home, given what your absence meant, but we can deal with a rebellious lord and whatever conniving rivals seek to kill a loyal baron. By the time you even start riding back, the situation will be resolved one way or another. Do not worry about us, Joy, we can handle ourselves. Keep carving your path in Ashfeld, you have more than earned it.

And please, write as you can. Even if whole seasons pass between letters, we need all the good news we can. And if the news is not good, even if it has to be sent by someone else, send it as well. We want to know how you are doing, even if all we can do is pray.

Your Brother, Robert

Inhaling as she finished the letter, the weight of it hit her. She had become a legion knight, her brother had become Count of Sandshore Castle. And that letter could only be brief - just how much of her family's life was she missing this far from home? She had always imagined Robert's coronation, and now she had missed it entirely. For all she knew, they were fighting for their lives as she was doing little but daily practice.

"Ah, Joy?"

Shaken from her thoughts, she looked up and stepped to the side as a few other knights were coming down the path on their horses. Of course: she had been standing in the middle of that path reading as Stone stood awkwardly.

After those knights rode past, exchanging pleasantries with them as they did, Stone looked at her and the open letter she had in hand. "So can I ask, or is it private?"

"It was word from home," she explained as she tried to collect her thoughts. "My brother…" she stopped as she realized that she was missing a descriptor. "Lord-brother now that he is Count, sent his regards."

"Probably all he could send," the Conqueror shrugged his shoulders. "I hope it was good news."

"Some good, some bad. It'll take too long to explain, though."

"Yeah, I get that." Stone admitted as he handed over the other two letters. "There's a second letter from your family, and this third one I can't tell."

Joy shuffled the letters to see the third, and felt her gut tightening as she recognized that symbol as well, a gauntleted fist. If she had stayed…

"I'll read them later," she finally said as she folded up the first letter again. "Come on, you need to get settled in, and it's a long way to the top."

"Yeah, I sent the others on ahead with the castellan. Edward's probably not happy I hoisted that off onto him," he added as he managed a faint smile. "Then again, he's my second for this summit, so he's stuck."

"Then we will both be there: Cross made me his second after we arrived."

"Well, you pretty much were his second beforehand." He stopped, turning to look back at the practice grounds. "Uh, he isn't training, is he?"

Joy shook her head. "I sometimes help him with his armor, but he didn't come out here today. He said he had to deal with other business."

"Fair enough. So, any idea why he doesn't have his own squire? He's definitely important enough to have one."

"I never thought to ask," her answer came with a shrug. "So, who else came with you?"

"I brought Harrowgate veterans since they're the only ones the Blackstones seem to respect," he admitted as they continued on. "Alberic came to look over any potential recruits we can find, and Ashley just needed a change of scenery."

"Just the four of you?"

"Not quite. Ashley's got a page now, and of course Edward's squire. Alberic is still alone though."

"And you?"

He laughed. "Are you kidding? When Edward suggested to his sister that I train her son, she slapped him."

Joy exhaled, though even she had to concede that was not a surprise.

"Anyways," the lowborn knight continued, "so besides becoming Cross' second, how have you been since Tholen?"

"Good. We dealt with a few stragglers, but nothing serious. What about you?"

"Fixing up Harrowgate, helping David with sorting out the countryside. He's adjusting pretty well to a life of a steward, but God does he hate that it's the only thing he can do now." Stone exhaled sharply. "If I didn't need to leave him in charge of Harrowgate, I would've brought him here. This is going to be all politics."

"He might just be enjoying the thought of you dealing with it."

"Hah, maybe! But I don't know what exactly Apollyon wants with me, especially since I don't really care about who gets what title in northern Ashfeld."

Joy felt herself frowning. "The choices made here are certain to last for generations, and you don't care about who rules?"

"Yeah well, I'm not exactly looking to be a landowner, and the people I care most about are in and around Harrowgate." He stopped, mouth hanging open as he realized how his words came out. "I mean, I care for the rest of Ashfeld, but I don't really care for the politics."

"I understand," she glanced at the gate they were fast approaching.

"Cack, that's a tall castle," the Conqueror muttered as he looked up towards the upper towers on the castle.

"It is, and the keep is at the top."

"Of course it is," he sighed, shaking his head. "So, you've been up there?"

"Yes, mostly to mingle with the court and introduce myself."

"Maybe you can help me with that, because I don't think I know anyone here."

She smiled. "Well, let me get cleaned up, and you will have a proper introduction to the court of the Blackstone Legion. Oh, don't bother taking your armor off."

"Huh?"

"Armor is formal wear for knights here."

Stone tilted his head at her, before shaking it with a sigh. "This is what I get for finally buying a nice jacket."

XXXXXX

Though the other letters from home remained on her mind into the next day, Joy had to put it aside as she followed Cross into the Blackstone Legion's war room, clad in her full armor and with her helmet on. So it was with everyone else in the war room save for a few heralds that had gathered in the corners, talking amongst themselves as they prepared to take record. She recognized Geofrey among their number, but none of the others with him.

Like most council chambers, the most dominant feature was the table. Joy had thought it might be the obsidian table that the Blackstone Legion had founded themselves around, but instead it was a typical rectangular wooden table, one large enough for the eight warlords and the former Iron Legion commander to gather around. Several wooden chairs surrounded the table, though by size they could have been the thrones backwater manors.

And one, made out of stone rather than wood, was almost certainly what was once the throne for this castle, though now it was occupied by an oversized Conqueror lounging in it as it was tucked towards the back corner. Truffe seemed to have claimed it as his own for these meetings, but now he was just one of eight gathered in the room. And Joy recognized the majority of them.

So naturally, the one she did not recognize from a previous encounter in the field was the one who spoke up first. "Ah, Lord Cross. It is good to see that your time in the field fighting heroic battles has not put you above us."

The Lawbringer shook his head with a faint snort. "Lord Rottdal, your duty this year was no slight."

"Perhaps, but there was much glory to be won in the field, won using some of my men."

Joyeuse got her first real look at the man, a Conqueror who had taken a noble house's name for himself after conquering them and marrying the sole surviving daughter of that family. Lord Karl Rottdal, known by the demonic moniker Belial, was also the most fancily dressed of the warlords. He still wore armor, but had worn a doublet over said armor. It was the only time since she had come to Ashfeld that Joy had seen such complicated, intricate, vibrant - wealthy - patterns on the clothing worn by the elite.

"You were not the only one away from the battlefield," another voice cut in, a woman's. Eyes turned towards one of the corners, opposite of Truffe's choice of seat, to the ex-Peacekeeper with twin angels on the tabard she wore over her tightly fitted gambeson.

"Maybe, Lilith," Belial remarked as he folded his arms, "but you at least had the battle of diplomacy, while I simply rode between garrisons."

"Hey, you did chase down some raiders that went for Lecce," cut in another woman in full brigandine with only her right arm covered in plate components - Merihem. "There's glory there."

He shrugged. "Perhaps, but killing a few half-naked marauders is hardly a story."

"Uh huh," Merihem rolled her eyes, made visible by the fact that her kettle helmet lacked a faceplate. "Anyways, aren't we one short? We seem to be lacking our lazy architect."

"Probably realized that he forgot his maille," Truffe offered as he stretched his massive girth in the throne he sat in, arms reaching past where Stone had been standing next to him. The Conqueror leaned back to avoid the sudden arm in his face. "Give it until he pages a servant for it!"

"Does he even have a page?"

Truffe shrugged at the merchant woman's question, bringing his arms down as Stone just pushed his left arm out of the way. "Do you think he could get dressed without one?"

Another warlord interrupted, speaking from beneath his flat topped helmet with a cross on the face guard. "And your clothes do not burst from your second helpings? Your gluttony will be the death of you."

Joy heard Cross growl beneath his own helmet, and she understood why as she looked at who has spoken. Orobas, born Martin von Eisleben, had long ago traded the red on white of his Temple Legion serving family for the Blackstone's black and orange, yet still his surcoat that fell almost to his ankles was blazoned with a thick cross on both sides, and every other piece of armor he had that had a surface large enough also had a either cross painted on or embossed.

At that moment, the door opened and there were three new entries. Apollyon herself, followed by the missing member of the seven subordinate warlords. Just as Davis had said a few days ago, Mulciber had put on a mail shirt over his doublet, though he substituted a helmet for his black chaperon, meaning he was the only one besides the heralds and Merihem who had a visible face. Behind them was Captain Salavander, who followed Mulciber as he made his way to his seat.

"Good morning, everyone," Mulciber greeted as he looked around. "Even you, Commander Stone! The castellan saw to your men, yes?"

"He did," the former Iron Legion commander answered as he took his seat. "Had to find him first, though."

"Ah, it happens. So, to business?"

Apollyon gave the barest hint of a nod, and they all took their places around the table.

The mistress of the legion sat at the fore, an open air balcony behind her. Holden Cross sat directly to Apollyon's right, first on that side, with Joyeuse taking her position to the Lawbringer's left. Past them, Mulciber sat down with Salavander as his second. Third down the table was Lilith, the only one who had come alone besides Apollyon. Stone was awkwardly in the corner at the end, Sir Edward behind him as Harrowgate's former commander had to make due with a smaller chair.

Truffe sat opposite of Apollyon, a brutish thug of a Conqueror standing behind him and leaning against that throne. Then up the other side of the table towards the Blackstone Legion's master was Merihem and her second, who had similar armor to her but with the distribution of plate on the arms more even. Then there was Belial, his second a young man standing behind him wearing the exact same heraldry, and at last Orobas and his squire. The latter had a similar overabundance of crosses on his armor, if on a tabard rather than a surcoat.

"Today we deal with the lands of Ashfeld that we have taken in our campaign, and how to divide them. But first, we have several newcomers to our midst. First, the woman whose exploits you have all heard of." Apollyon nodded to Joy. "I trust you can introduce yourself."

Of course she could. "Dame Joyeuse Maylis, of Sandshore Castle," she introduced herself as she bowed her head.

"A Royal this far north?" Belial remarked as he tilted his head. "Interesting."

"Since you are willing to speak, perhaps you can introduce the second newcomer?" Apollyon remarked, leaning an arm against the table.

"Of course, though it is only the other newcomers who do not know my son." Belial turned and nodded to his second, who bowed with practiced grace.

"Sir Albrecht Rottdal, eager to win his spurs."

How young is he? Joy wondered as his voice seemed too high pitched for a knight. Then again, by the traditional path of knighthood she would still be a squire. Prodigy or not, who was she to say anything about his youth?

"And of course," Apollyon let her gaze fall on the Iron Legion Conqueror, "Harrowgate's former commander: Stone."

Stone dipped his head. "It was a surprise to be here, but a welcome one. This is Sir Edward Dyeway, one of Harrowgate's knights." As Stone gestured towards his acting second, and the other former Iron Legion knight bowed his head as well.

"To be brief, know that I allow whisperings between those in attendance, should there be a matter you need to discuss," Apollyon explained as she looked to them. "Your courtesy is between each other, and any offense you give is yours alone. You may interject, but you do so at your own peril."

Joy frowned, glad that she had her helmet on, as that seemed to be a very odd choice for decorum. What isn't odd here? She decided as she dismissed the thought.

"Now then," Apollyon returned her gaze towards Stone, "before we begin dividing flocks, we should recognize that one newcomer is to be a peer."

And with that, all the attention in this room fell onto the former Iron Legion commander, who shifted in his seat. Though his expression was masked by the helmet, Joy somehow suspected he was glad to have it. She would have felt uncomfortable under that much focus, especially after being freshly introduced. And had Apollyon called him a peer?

"Excuse me, master," Belial started as he turned to look at her. "I may have misheard you, but did you call this Iron Legion dog a peer?"

"You heard correctly."

Silence lingered in the room as Joy's head turned between Stone and Apollyon until at last, she started smiling as she caught on. So did the others.

"Wait, we're taking on a new warlord?" Truffe asked, tilting his head towards the man sitting next to him.

"Is he even worthy?" Orobas demanded as he folded his arms.

"I suppose it was past due," Merihem shrugged as she put her gaze firmly on the Conqueror.

"Are you kidding me?!" Belial roared loudest, "You're elevating this dog to a warlord? Are you going to give him the new lands as well?!"

"Considering how you became 'noble'," Truffe snorted, "that's fucking rich!"

"At least I seek to better my station, pig!"

"Enough!" Apollyon countered, staring the council quiet. She had not needed to shout - the sheer intensity of her voice did what volume might do otherwise. As soon as the war room fell silent save for a few quiet exchanges between Merihem, Belial, and their seconds, Apollyon turned her gaze to the man she was elevating.

"Tell me, Stone. Do you want to take lands in northern Ashfeld? Or even to the south; Ghorst's Hold has no owner."

Merihem raised a hand. "Might I remind you that Ghorst's Hold is vital to trade, master?"

"You might, but let us hear the ambitions of our new warlord."

"What ambition could he…" Belial muttered angrily, but stopped before he finished. The room remained silent for a few more moments after.

"Well," the Conqueror started as he reached for the neck of his surcoat and tugged once. "I'm honored, of course, but my people are at Harrowgate, and Sir David Hawthorne already stewards the sanctuary."

"Of course, you would not be the first warlord to deny a prize." Apollyon glanced towards Orobas at that, "but I think you do so for a different reason."

Stone shrugged. "I've been fighting from Harrowgate since I became Iron Legion. It's as home as I'm going to get."

"So it is." Apollyon leaned forward, and pointed towards the map, gesturing around the rough approximation of the former Iron Legion holdings in Ashfeld and many of the independents in southern Ashfeld. "I leave it to you to continue your command over the lands the Iron Legion once controlled, and that of the petty lordlings who frequent the area. How you organize and divide it further is up to you, as long as you bring warriors where they are needed."

"I…" Stone started as he tilted his head. "So, you're basically making me an Iron Commander?"

Apollyon's answer was a snort. "Holden, I think you can explain better."

The Lawbringer nodded, then looked to the Conqueror who had served under him the last season. "Yes and no, Commander Stone. Since the Iron Legion has withdrawn from Ashfeld, such a position at Harrowgate no longer exists. However, as a Blackstone Warlord you stand equal with your fellows, and if charged to protect an area the warriors within fall to your command, to be organized as you see fit."

"Huh," Stone leaned back in his seat. "Yeah, I can work with that. Alright, I'll handle southern Ashfeld. Thank you, master." He bowed his head after the hasty addition to his liege lady.

"Not all of it, I presume?" Merihem chimed in as she looked to Apollyon. "After all, there are some territories too important, and already abandoned by the Iron Legion."

"Still after more gold?" Truffe asked as he glanced at her.

"You say it as if you do not want the farmlands around Tholen." She received a conceding shrug as an answer.

"Which I lay claim to!" Orobas growled as he leaned forward. "And the most pressing concern, given such a holy place was desecrated by those pagan monsters for decades."

"Says the man who proudly bears a demon's name," Cross growled as he pressed his fists against the table. "You only want Tholen because you think controlling it will make you more pious."

"And if the Palace of Justice fell under our control, would you not claim it as you are a Lawbringer?"

Joy tensed, keeping an eye on the second opposite of her with her commander's rival, who likewise was eying her. Though in such meetings Joy really was more of an observer, if Cross had orders, she had to be ready to carry them out.

"Can you two just fight already?" Lilith groaned, suddenly interjecting into the conversation as she rested a hand against her forehead. "For God's sake, you two hate each other."

"Be wary of invoking the Lord's name in vain, particularly given your history," the former Temple Legion knight warned as he let his gaze shift to the former Peacekeeper.

"Well, Holden," Apollyon asked as she turned her head towards him. "Do you want to command Tholen, in addition to your responsibilities at Redflow and as a Lawbringer? Or do you have another candidate in mind?"

Cross looked to his master, and Joy quickly noticed that a few sets of eyes had fallen on her. Would he put me up for the role? She wondered as she glanced at the Lawbringer for a moment before he backed down into his chair.

"Redflow Castle is more than enough for me, but Tholen will be the frontline against any new invasion by land. However holy the site is, I think the last half-century has proven that it takes more than a priest's blessings to repel a Raider's axe."

"So who would you support, then?"

As his master's demand came, Cross glanced to the others, then settled his gaze on the man next to him. "Lord Vulcan also has no large estates to his name, and at this point we have all trusted him with running our own while we go on campaign. That trust is long overdue to be better rewarded, and no one else amongst us knows fortifications as he does."

"Hey, I already got enough to deal with!" Mulciber cut in as he threw his hands up. "Do you realize how much work goes into keeping all your estates stable while you're all off cutting beards?"

"You do not have to directly govern," Lilith remarked as she lazily turned her head towards him. "I'm sure you can think of some suitable governor to keep an eye on."

"Which I'll be doing anyways," he added before looking at Orobas, "And I know how much this means to you. I remember how much it meant to Lady Helena."

"Exactly!" Orobas finished as he stood, turning to each as he spoke. "We all remember our diligent fourth warlord, sent to Heaven's embrace before she could fulfil the legacy of her father and grandfather before her. Though last of her line, she desired to see Tholen's abbey restored, a holy task for any of Ashfeld. A task I would see finished!"

Cross growled again as Joy looked down, then he looked back up at her as Orobas continued, whispering to her. "Wherever he governs for more than a month, there's always an uprising."

"Too puritanical in faith?"

"And acts as if he is a Lawbringer in such matters."

Joy nodded once. "Doesn't Ashfeld have a patriarch?"

"Yes, but he may as well be an anchorite."

Which meant that the most viable compromise was out of the question, if the Blackstone Legion would have even trusted a man of the cloth to govern. Then again, it's not like my family is much better, Joy decided as she was reminded of her mother's own complaints about the local bishops.

Orobas was still in his monologing speech as that quiet exchange finished. "... so I say, let my valiant and faithful warriors take this duty. You all have seen our worth time and again. Let us be the aegis of Ashfeld, and see the Warborn break against our shields!"

"Are you done?" Apollyon asked, leaning her head back briefly, leaving Joy to wonder if the former Warden was rolling her eyes.

She probably is, Joy decided since she herself was fighting down that urge, even though she knew her helmet would keep it from being seen. Somehow, she suspected Orobas was usually verbose in his rhetoric.

"All that needs to be said has been said," Orobas answered before looking around, hands held open to his sides, "unless one of you would challenge it by arms? Do any of you desire to defy a laysword of God in this matter? Do you have such a desire, Asmodai?"

Cross growled as he was pointed at, rising and pressing both hands against the table to let his burly height speak for itself. Joy stood ready behind, letting her hand fall onto Dusk's hilt so it was clear she had his back. And as the Lawbringer pressed, she suddenly felt keenly aware that his helmet was concealing fury.

"Be wary of bringing God into your rhetoric, Martin," the Lawbringer warned slowly but steadily, carefully enounciating each word. "Many a cultist has claimed His favor in their endeavors, and yet blind justice struck them down as easily as any northman."

The war room fell silent, all eyes on the two warlords facing off with each other. Joy wished she could interject, but what could she say? Orobas was prideful, but she did not know him well enough to question his worth as a governor. All she would be able to say was that she was behind Cross, which was obvious anyways as she was his second.

"Be wary of blind rage, good Lawbringer. Few can stop it once it has begun, even he who wields it."

The room remained silent as they stared at each other for a few more moments, then Orobas back looked across the room. "So, who would you all see take this holy task?"

Lilith was the first one to speak up, folding her arms as she leaned back in her seat. "I take my usual silence."

"And I'm not repeating myself," Mulciber agreed, then looked towards the end. "Truffe?"

"Eh, if he wants it, fine. There's other farmland."

Merihem was next to speak up. "As long as he doesn't get in the way of trade, he can have it."

"I have my own thoughts and considerations," Belial admitted as he glanced to his son briefly, "but if you feel so strongly about this, then why not?"

That left Cross and Stone to speak up, and Stone looked to Cross as well. The Lawbringer inhaled to steady himself, then spoke. "If that is what this council wills, so be it. You invoked Lady Helena to argue for this," he added as he fixed his gaze on Orobas. "Remember her diligence as you govern, and how she ruled fairly."

"Of course, I would give no less to such a holy endeavor."

Apollyon glanced between the two before speaking up. "Well, that was easier than it should have been."

She sounds disappointed, Joy noticed, finding herself frowning. Shouldn't she be glad that her direct vassals came to an agreement?

"Next question," Belial asked as he placed a hand on the table, "exactly which lands are being granted? I can think of a few worthy candidates for some of the forts in the area."

"We all can," Cross growled as he looked between them, "But that is a detail for once we have determined who has rights. First, we define how much land we tie to this grant of Tholen."

And so the meeting continued, the various warlords bantering and arguing as to which territories would be part of Orobas' new domain. Tholen was a prestigious holding, which influenced much of northern Ashfeld just by how many roads connected to it. That it would be the foreground against future Warborn attacks only made it more so, and the forts along the way became a hot topic of debate.

Though individual candidates for specific forts came up as they were pointed out on the map, Cross cut all discussion of that off. "Orobas will make his own vassals" was what the Lawbringer said before asking whether the castle discussed should even be part of that territory.

It was far different from any claim argument that Joy had ever seen in Sandshore. There had been some titles left open by no legal heir, but those arguments had always been about which candidate was worthy of replacing the past owner. What lands would be tied to it was never a topic, as there was never a reason to change the existing structure. All those vassals needed was a new liege.

Fortunately, the young Warden was not asked to give an opinion over the affair, allowing her to act as an observer to this debate of the high society she was born into. Yet the meeting lost its formality as it went on, becoming arguments between the warlords with some like Belial more vocal than others like Truffe. Stone in particular had remained silent, staying in his corner, and there was one more voice conspicuously absent.

Apollyon had stepped out of the debate entirely, waiting at the balcony as her warlords continued to argue amongst themselves. Much as Joy wanted to step away as well to ask, she had to remain until Cross gave her permission to do so. Yet engrossed in keeping it on track, it was not until lunch came (Truffe warning as it approached with peculiarly accurate timing) that he had even noticed. And by then, they adjourned the meeting, to pick up where they left off later.

XXXXX

"So, what's in that letter? You keep rereading it."

Joy glanced up as she was sitting in one of the side halls at the top of the fortress. They had retired to the main hall to take lunch, eating at a long table that had been set up with more than enough room for them all. Most of the warlords sat up towards the front of the table, while the seconds ate towards the opposite end. Joy ended up sitting next to Stone, towards the middle of the table.

"This is one I really have to answer," she explained as she exhaled, other conversations continuing around them. "And I'm not sure how."

"Can I ask? You never said who the fist sigil belonged to."

It took Joy a moment to decide as she glanced down at the letter again, wondering if perhaps she should keep it to herself, before shrugging and setting it down. "It's from one of my family's vassals, Baron Guillaume Deveraux of Blackhawk Castle. He was a ward at Sandshore as he grew up."

"A friend?"

"Yes, though my mother intended for it to be more..." Joy found herself glancing down at the letter again, given that it was all about that intent.

Dear Joyeuse,

I pray that you are in good health as you receive this letter, and have found the happiness you sought in a knight's life. If the stories that have come from Ashfeld are even half true, you have more than cemented your place in your family's annals as a heroine. My loss has been Ashfeld's salvation, but I still hold onto hope.

You left Sandshore as your mother sought to arrange our union, seeking to live up to the title you had earned in Anastasis. For what it is worth, I would have respected your decision had you asked. Much as I would have been blessed to take the hand of a woman of such courage, I know that you did not become a Warden just to settle down immediately after, even if it was to rule as Valentia once did. Your strength of will and character remains an inspiration as I deal with the role left to me by my father's family.

Even though it was your mother's ploy to keep you from what she feared, I still believe that we have a future together. We have both grown for the better. I am not asking you to return now, your oaths to the Blackstone Legion must be honored, but when you feel the time is right I will be waiting. If I am lucky enough to be worthy of your choice, it will be worth every moment apart.

Forever an ardent admirer, Guillaume

"Look, if it's personal I can back off."

"No, it's not really secret," the Warden added as she looked back to the Conqueror. "But if my mother had her way, I would be Joyeuse Deveraux."

It took a moment for Stone to comprehend what she meant, and he ended up leaning back in his seat biting his lip. "Oh. I didn't realize that you were betrothed."

Despite the discomfort the topic brought out, she managed a faint smile. "I'm not. I left before it was agreed on. He is holding out for me, though."

"Smart guy."

"Brave, loyal, kind. You would never realize that he was born a bastard."

"Huh." The Conqueror raised an eyebrow at that, glancing across the table quickly before turning back to her. "Well, we talked and teased, but if you'd rather not I can save the poetry. I mean, you're well above my station anyways."

"I'd still listen," she answered as she felt her smile lengthening. "Besides, courtly love is about spiritual fulfilment regardless of our condition." She reached a hand over onto his. "I trust your intentions, good knight."

He smiled, glancing away as she saw his cheeks starting to redden. "Lucky me." He blinked, cleared his throat, and looked back at her as he lifted his hand. Joy took the cue to take her own back. "Though uh, I kinda figured this would just be some fun, you know?"

She nodded. Perhaps it was too discussed to really be courtly romance, but if this was to be her first true foray into it, perhaps that was for the best. She had been flirted with as she made her way to Ashfeld, but she was on the road again before any could really lay into the ritual and drama that such love entailed. But now that she was sworn to a legion, the same as Stone? Just because he was self-aware enough to not expect anything did not mean...

No, I have a responsibility, she reminded herself and shoved the thought aside. This was emotion alone - and besides, if it continued as it had started it would probably end up being gentle mockery of the staples she had been taught in her youth than anything. And now as she felt her stomach fluttering - and not from the almost finished lunch - she decided it was time for a change of topic.

"Anyways, so what are you going to do now that you have the rank the Iron Commanders denied you?"

"I'm not sure," Stone admitted as he leaned back, grabbing his cup and taking a drink before continuing. "I mean, the lordlings accepted me as a garrison commander for Harrowgate and trusted me enough to send men, but as a liege lord?" He shook his head.

And now Joy suddenly felt herself wishing that she had perhaps considered her mother's lessons more closely than she had. Stone had practical experience, but he never had anything resembling an education for governing.

"If you want my advice," she paused for a moment, "Or rather, if I repeat my mother's, start by meeting them."

"Meeting them?" Stone shifted, leaning a hand on his knee. "It can't be that simple."

"No, but it is a chance to hear their concerns. Even if all you can do is politely listen, you can show that you care. That they can turn to you if they need to."

"And if they can turn to me, they have a reason to listen." He nodded. "Anything else?"

"I could keep reciting lessons from memory, but we would be here all day." And to be fair, Joy was not sure she even remembered them consciously. Had her upbringing been that excessively martial?

"And neither of us wants that," the lowborn knight chuckled, interrupting her quiet concern. "Alright, I'll try that. It can't hurt, and I should meet them anyways."

She smiled again. He had enough to figure out the rest, or at least find someone who could teach him. "Exactly, and doing it at their estates has its own advantages."

"Probably. Though getting used to the rank will probably be the biggest challenge." He shrugged, then looked back to his plate. "Anyways, we should probably finish eating."

Glancing at her own plate, yes that probably was for the best. The food was actually rather good here, though somehow she suspected the Shugoki-sized warlord further up had weighed in on that.

As they finished though, Stone glanced up the table again, then back to her. "So, all those fancier titles Royals use are about a power balance, right?"

Joy answered as she wiped her hands. "To keep de facto and de jure in harmony. Why?

"I'm kind of curious about how high I'd be if this wasn't Ashfeld."

Frowning, she leaned back into her own chair and put a hand on her chin as she considered it. Even if Stone didn't care, this was not an answer to give lightly. But as she thought back to the map and what she had seen of Harrowgate and beyond, a pretty clear answer emerged in her mind.

"I think, going by Harrowgate and its outposts, you would actually be a count."

"Huh," Stone admitted with a shrug. "Well, that's something."

"It is," she answered, distracted as she looked further up the table as the realization had led to a second one that followed it. If Harrowgate and what Ashfeld's Iron Legion chapter had left was a county, then what did that make Apollyon ruler of now that most of Ashfeld - other than a few chunks to the west and south held by minor legions - was under her control?

Joy could not be certain, but if she was right?

"Excuse me," she said as she pushed herself back in her seat, "I need to check on something."

"Huh? Oh, sure," Stone was frowning himself now, but said nothing else as she grabbed her helmet and gloves, rose, and left the dining hall.

XXXXXX

Despite the fact that many sovereign lords and ladies outside of Ashfeld were called Royals, in truth the Legions had had not seen a true kingdom for over a century. Any realm big enough to be worthy of such a title rarely lasted long, and when it inevitably fractured the title was retired with it. There had of course been hundreds of petty kingdoms, men in tiny hill forts only king by being independent. Naturally, this led to unnecessary bloodshed as they realized being king meant nothing if it was so easy to become one.

Those petty kings, including Joyeuse's own ancestors, had recognized their sordid state when they become signatories to one of the Iron Legion's greatest triumphs. The Royal Treaty of Austrus, in which the signatories understood they could not all be king and set to try and live by their proper ranks. Their sovereignty remained, with the term Royal coming to apply to those who were sovereign and their families. It also alluded to the treaty's pledge: to keep de jure and de facto in harmony and let go of titles that became empty.

All this was in her mind as Joy reached her destination - the war room the summit was being held in. The guard let her through without challenge, and once inside she made her way to the table and looked at the map of Ashfeld. Thanks to its size it had far more detail than most maps, enough to cement the realization in her mind as she double and triple checked the map.

"You left in a hurry, Warden."

Turning sharply as her thoughts were interrupted, her hand instinctively fell to the hilt of her longsword before she stopped herself. Apollyon had followed her.

"I had to check something, master," she answered, glad that she had put her helmet back on. It obscured her face as she felt her cheeks heat up.

"And what did it tell you?"

Glancing at the map one more time, Joy inhaled to steady herself before answering. "That kneeling in your presence would be more appropriate than bowing."

"Ah, yes. You were born a Royal, with all the pointless titles and politicking that involves." The legion's master shook her head, gesturing a hand towards the balcony, and continued as they walked towards it. "Perhaps by some ancient scrap of paper, this makes me a queen. But really, what does title matter in the end?"

"What is the difference between a Warden and any knight with a longsword?"

"A better question might be what separates a Conqueror from any other knight," Apollyon asked back, resting her hands against the balcony now that they were against it. "A knight can be anything from barely worth acknowledging to a Warden's equal, yet somehow Conquerors are different?"

Frowning, Joy rested one of her hands against the railing as she looked out across Ashfeld. She wanted to say that Conquerors were just knights that happened to be lowborn, but the admittedly few Wardens born in the lower rungs of society were never given the honor of being a Conqueror. To say Apollyon was a Conqueror would be incorrect, as she had been knighted as a Warden before she could have earned that honor in the Blackstone Legion.

"Your silence speaks for itself," Apollyon continued. "We created all these complicated rules and norms and taboos about rank, status, where we stand in society. We come up with titles and words for these things. But in the end, what are they? A sign hung around the neck so civilization can put us into the box it made."

"And yet you spoke so highly of the order you once belonged to," Joy answered as her mind recalled their first true conversation. "You said that Wardens were true warriors. But if there is nothing separating me from any of your other knights, then what does my title mean? What does any title mean?"

"Nothing," the former Warden pushed herself to her full height. "Everything."

Joy could only stare as she tried to process the blatant opposites that had just been given to her as an answer. Apollyon then elaborated further.

"Titles mean as much or as little as those who hear them. A knight sees the Warden as the pinnacle of his nature, the Warborn see a knight with a longsword." The older woman paused for a moment, resting a hand on the pommel of her own weapon. "To us, any half-naked brute with a dane axe is a Raider. Yet even as we kill the pretenders by the dozen, we still call them Raiders."

"Because we do not understand the difference?" the young Warden asked as she wondered where this was going.

"Because we don't care to put meaning to it beyond what we see, even as we know how much more the Warborn imagine when they hear the word."

That still left her confused. This was nothing about title, but ignorance. "Very well master, let us say that I am ignorant and that I never actually fought a true Raider. What does that change if the 'Raiders' I fought were still capable of killing me?"

"Ah, good. You found it," Apollyon leveled one of the claw-like fingers of her gauntlet towards Joy's chest, towards the Warden's plate she wore. "What matters is the warrior, not what civilization calls them. Whether you are a Warden or just another knight, your skill is your own, and no one can strip that from you."

"And what about our oaths?" Joy asked as she found her footing again, glancing between the helmeted woman facing her and the finger she had pointed at her. "A Warden's oath is distinct from that of a Lawbringer, and Conquerors swear no oaths but those all knights swear."

"Live up to them, if that is what you desire." Apollyon lowered her hand, shrugging. "Earn the respect that the title is supposed to give you. Otherwise, it has no meaning."

Nodding once, more to herself than anything, Joyeuse now understood the lesson being imparted to her. Title was important, but only if the one who held it lived up to it. A bandit leader calling himself king from a hillfort was king only by his own self-aggrandizement, especially compared to someone with Apollyon's power.

So it was with being a Warden: that only meant what it did as long as Joy lived up to what that mantle meant. It was no work of craft to be completed, but a vocation until death. If she intended to be worthy of the respect the title conveyed, she had to live up to it until duty's end.

"So," Apollyon continued as silence had fallen on their conversation. "What did you make of seeing all the Blackstone Legion warlords at once?"

"Volatile," she answered immediately, perhaps unguardedly. "I knew that there were disagreements, but to see them happen? Those are the disagreements that tear apart realms."

"Or temper them like steel. A little infighting keeps them sharp, and the ever looming threat of our violent history forces them to be wary in their games."

"Because they know the other might take it to the field?"

"For all Orobas likes to imagine himself as our holy inquisitor, the threat of Holden taking a poleaxe to his skull keeps him from purging our ranks."

"The threat of facing a Lawbringer should give anyone pause, but you are the master of this legion. If you know that it could fight itself, why did you step away from the meeting?"

Apollyon tilted her head towards her. "Because I do not care for their petty politics, as long as they fight like demons when I ask. Besides, Holden handles it better."

"Maybe, but you are shirking a responsibility."

"Hah," the former Warden snorted, "you really are highborn. Do you know what this really is, dame?"

Joy shook her head in response.

"Spoils," came the asked-for answer, "Whatever it may be, war produces a prize for the victors. I'm certain you have taken your share from your victories."

Joy glanced down at the pendant attached to her belt for a moment. "Not as much as you would think."

"Oh?" Apollyon turned, casually leaning her right elbow against the railing. "You mean to tell me in that during your journey to Ashfeld you never once looted a body?"

The Warden hesitated as she thought back to what was now mostly a blur. "A few things, mostly what I needed. Loose coin, a dagger, and in one case new rags for the month."

"Still, you understand the value of looting. That is all this is, splitting the loot of the campaign."

"Except it is not loot, but lands and the people in them."

"All argued over in a high tower, drawn as lines on a map. What really matters is what happens on the ground itself." Apollyon turned back, facing the vista before them with a bitter exhale. "But ruling nobles still act as if there is something greater to arbitrary lines."

She still did not know what to make of Apollyon's odd positions on governing, but as silence fell again she realized this was as good a time as any - and a welcome distraction from the thoughts it was provoking.

"Speaking of ruling lords, master, I received a letter from home. My brother, now Count of Sandshore Castle, told me to relay a message."

"Told?" Apollyon tilted her head at the choice of words. "You see yourself beholden to him?"

"I am sworn to the Blackstone Legion, but I am still a Maylis."

Apollyon scoffed, but said nothing more on that. "So, what was the message?"

"He said that he cannot offer the Blackstone Legion the same fealty we once offered the Iron Legion, but he still wants you to have his regards, from one sovereign to another."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, master."

Apollyon remained silent for a moment as she mulled over the message, until the warlord finally answered. "Well then, tell him the message is heard, if you write back."

"I will, master," Joy turned as well, though she remained standing. "I have another question, if you would hear it."

"Speak."

"Why did you elevate Stone? He is more than worthy, but that seemed to anger the others."

"Let them fume, it is their complacency leaving. They have grown too comfortable thinking that being a founder ensures their position." Apollyon turned her head to face Joy directly. "They need to remember that they can be replaced."

A heavy footfall cut off any response, as both women glanced to the side to see a familiar Lawbringer stepping out onto the balcony, a letter in hand.

"Ah, Holden," Apollyon's tone suddenly lightened. "Is it time already?"

"Soon, but a messenger from my order arrived." The Lawbringer approached, handing an opened letter to Apollyon.

She took it and read it over, exhaling as she finished. "So, the first rebellion is already being plotted."

Joyeuse sighed. Always a scheme at play.

"So it is," Cross continued as he glanced between them, before settling his focus on Apollyon. "Now, this Lord Thomas Easthart may just be testing the waters, but a swift chastisement from you should rectify that. If he does form this 'Ascendant Legion' on Ashfeld's southern border, others could exploit the opportunity."

"Yes, yes, the Temple Legion might take them to edge closer to Ashfeld, or maybe one of the legions in Austrus will make a land grab." Apollyon shook her head. "Let him plot."

Joy turned in place, feeling a twitch run through her body as what was just said hit her. "Master, shouldn't we deal with this? If he rebels when the Warborn return, he would divide our focus."

"Then he will be dealt with as your previous paymaster was," Apollyon waved her hand, handing the letter back to Cross. "I will not chase after every pampered brat with delusions of supremacy. If he draws his sword against this legion, he will feel my wrath. If not, then I have nothing to fear."

Cross grumbled as he took the letter back, but said nothing as Apollyon strode past him. "I think it is time we continued splitting the spoils," she said as she rested a hand on the archway that separated the balcony from the main hall. "Before Beelzebul empties the larder."

"Very well, master," Cross answered as he dipped his head, and Apollyon left of the room entirely. Then he looked to Joy. "So, Warden, why did you leave in a hurry?"

"A realization I had when talking to Commander Stone, sir. With most of Ashfeld under Blackstone control, it is almost a kingdom again."

"If we can keep it together, then we can talk about Ashfeld being one land again," the Lawbringer shook his head. "There are far too many problems to deal with before we can even think of that. With the sudden expansion of territory, keeping order will be difficult."

Given the number of brigands that Joy had heard about from the others, she could believe it. "We have at least a month, maybe two, before winter hits Ashfeld. What are we going to do?"

"After this summit?" Cross looked out past the balcony for a moment. "First, I need to return to Redflow Castle and see to its wellbeing. By then, we should have a better understanding of where we are needed most."

And what better place was there for a Warden to be than where she was needed most?

XXXXXX

End Chapter

- One of the greatest things I disliked about how laconic the campaign was is that we never really got to see the inner workings of the Blackstone Legion and how their rule changed Ashfeld. And with the rest of a year plus until near-winter of the next, there are numerous opportunities to explore as to just why the Warden stuck around despite apparently deciding Apollyon was the wrong master for the execution of deserters. I wanted to explore all that, even if admittedly there is only so long it can be strung out until the inevitable at Sverngard.

- Also, as this has been asked several times now: my current plans with the DLC characters is that if there is a good opportunity to include them without it being an obvious shoehorn, I will use them. However, if I really have to twist the story just so I can show that yes I have had my throat ripped out by an insane cannibal considered a hero by the Vikings, I won't use them.

- And as always, thank you for reading, and an additional thank you to those who take their time to leave feedback.