The twin Halfhavens whetted their blades for the coming battle. A task for squires, but the Twins knew better than trust their weapons to second ones. Asran had balked at them, and Ascalon was roused. The Misthelm camp was alive with energy, companies of infantry and longbows drilling and cavorting. Some men sharpened stakes for the half built abattis, while Malenzhian riders thundered into camp with prisoners taken during skirmishes with foraging parties. Others were cooking brown stews, or tanning leathers from animals brought by the hunters. The camp was a veritable town.
They spoke amongst themselves in a tent awash in white and blues, much battered by campaigning. “I think we took this town before. It was me and you…. and… the Fox. Other men besides.” Turning to survey the battlements, “Except there used to be a tower… there.” The steeple of a chapel of Aeternun Solis peered over the walls in that very spot. The sound of whetstone on blade drowned out the commotion of camp life.
Raymond turned to speak, “Except this time Uncle bid us to bring the cub.” Sharing a smile together, they told stories of the cub’s training and tantrums. “A good fighter no doubt, but the boy lacks this-“ Rolland tapped his temple with the whetstone. “Well he is Dorian’s son. We all know father had the martial gift, no offense to uncle. But give him some credit, he’s just a boy.” Raymond’s motion was rhythmic, stone shrieked against steel. “Emory is not just a boy. He’s the heir you don’t.” Rolland shrugged off the comment, “Well It used to be me, it still could be me. Don’t get jealous now Raymond.” Raymond snapped at him, “Used to be, it used to be you. I never used to be anything besides what I am now. What I always have been, your better.” They laughed the joust off in good spirits.
Their conversation trailed off, talk about formation and strategy for the upcoming contest.
Suddenly, a horn blew. A handsome young man sprinted to the front of the camp dressed for battle. Auburn hair blowing in the wind, and wielding the twin banner of Arescod and Misthelm. The twins looked at each other in amazement. Raymond ran off towards his retinue to get ready for battle. Rolland looked on in stunned astonishment.
“Men! We did not choose this destiny, but it has been forced upon us! How fortunate are we then to find ourselves on this field of glory.”
Holding his sword aloft, “These fiends dared ask the honorable Duke Talonclaw- ‘where then, is Ascalon?’ And lo-“ he beckoned towards the soldiery, “I should say, Ascalon has come.” A rumble came from the crowd, one not heard for many years.
“I am Emory, of the Halfhaven: Follow me, follow me now and earn glory for your name. Whether I die this day it matters little, for the Gods have decided my fate. I fight for Misthelm, for Havengate, and Arescod! By the Green Bear and the Red Lion, fight for yourselves, fight with honor and earn everlasting fame. Our lives are short, even mine, which you wretches call ‘immortal.’ Tymetras himself fought his fate and won. I say on this day, we very well may make our own!” Halfhaven, Misthelm!
Emory stood facing the walls, bearing the arms of his people. “Their false empire is but a babe in the cradle, blooded on little more than club-wielding half-breeds and savages. Knowing the company in which I reside, I shall save you all the history lesson.” The men cheered.
“I’ve swords older than Asran the Vain, and hunting dogs who’ve slain more enemies. Now I speak the truth, by days end we will blot out the Sun of zealots and the Red Lion shall fly over this city! Steel your hearts my friends, the House of Arescod and the most Venerable Martyrs watch over us. With me now, to battle!”
Emory’s retainer blew a horn, and the men gave a shout of Misthelm! The shout brought a tear to Rolland’s eye, and a shiver as cold as steel down his back. Raymond ran past Rolland, half armored, to battle. “So the lad’s giving speeches now?”
The men of Misthelm charged and scaled the walls. Rolland couldn’t believe his ears. The joy of battle had taken them, the men sang a song both fair and terrible. The Sun was cut down, and soon the Red Lion stood proudly over the battlements. The day was won.