The wind carried a chill that signalled the arrival of autumn. Rovie pulled his coat tighter around him to ward off the cold while Loric, who was walking next to him sneezed.

“Summer’s almost over, eh?” Gavik observed brightly.

The older man had a spring in his step, as they walked alongside a horse-drawn wagon at the head of twenty men. The mood was otherwise sombre as they trudged down the road out of town. They were the only ones on the streets, a stark contrast from the last time Rovie had been in Loverto. Every now and again, he caught glimpses of people watching them from behind shuttered windows. Up ahead, the castle seemed to loom over them from the top of the hill. He knew that the disappearance of the townspeople would not be lost on its inhabitants, who would have locked the castle up tight and were probably already manning the walls. That too was part of the plan.

“Did we forget anything?” Loric wondered out loud.

Rovie shrugged. “It’s a bit late to be asking that now.”

“Steel yourselves boys,” Daglin said, “not long to go now.”

“Are you sure you boys don’t want to stay at the bottom of the hill?” Gavik ventured.

Rovie and Loric shook their heads. “No,” Loric said.

“Last chance,” Gavik shrugged, as they turned off the main road and up the winding dirt road that would lead them to the castle gates. Rovie tried to keep his eyes off the long grass that provided the only cover until the copse of trees that stood across a meadow on the far side of the main road.

“We’re coming with you,” Rovie declared. He glanced at the wagon and adjusted the tarp that covered its contents slightly.

“Stop that, you’ll make them suspicious,” one of Daglin’s men snapped. His name was Divar and he was a swarthy man with a scar across his face, given to him by a Renfian cavalryman’s sword.

“Thirty men escorting a covered wagon going up the hill unannounced is plenty suspicious,” Gavik said jovially, “if the disappearance of the townspeople hadn’t tipped them off already.”

“I still say you shouldn’t have done that,” Daglin said, “we could have caught them unawares.”

“I doubt that,” Gavik said, “you said it yourself, they noticed an extra man with last week’s wagon and locked the place up tight well before it arrived.”

“Perhaps we should have postponed this,” Divar groused, “isn’t every fief committed to sending men to that war in the west? We could have come when there was no one home.”

“Like I said,” Gavik said, looking up at the castle, “your Lord Coriso could easily barter his cannon and guns for protection from the other lords, especially with a war going on… And we need those guns.”

“Coriso’s no lord of mine,” Daglin snorted.

“I’d say getting him out and taking the castle is more important than the guns,” Divar grumbled.

“Baron Lest or half a dozen other lords would gladly send men to put him back in power in exchange for five cannons,” Gavik sighed, having already explained this to them at least a dozen times, “and how would we hold the castle with our two cannons and thirty muskets? We wouldn’t have a prayer.”

“Speaking of cannons,” Daglin said worriedly, “are you sure they won’t be an issue?”

“If you hear a loud bang while we’re climbing the hill, scatter,” Gavik grinned, “but once we’re at the gates, they won’t be able to depress the barrels enough to hit us.”

“What if they’re outside the walls, eh?” Daglin countered.

“If they were outside the walls, we’d be able to see them by now,” Gavik pointed out, “and if they’re in the courtyard, just give the gate a wide berth and figure the rest out as we go along.”

Daglin grunted, looking unconvinced. All conversation ceased as they trudged up the hill. Each man kept a careful eye on the castle walls. Soon, could make out the men lining the walls. Rovie counted thirty-five in all. He then realized his back was wet with sweat and his heart was pounding so fast he felt it would burst from his chest at any moment.

“They’re not firing on us, that’s a good sign,” Loric piped up, eager to break the tension.

“Don’t jinx it,” Daglin hissed.

“They probably don’t see us as a threat yet,” Gavik remarked, “after all, they’re safe behind those walls. Remember, stick to the plan.”

Once they were almost at the top of the hill, Rovie’s eyes were drawn to the long grass close to the wall roughly twenty yards from the gate.

“Stop that,” Loric hissed, “it’s all over for us if they spot it that.”

Rovie swallowed and forced himself to look up at the wall. Men were sneering down at them from the wall. They were wearing steel breastplates and helmets and armed with muskets. Rovie assumed from his arrogant stance and the long red plumed feather stuck into his helmet that the stout grey-haired man standing at the battlements over the gatehouse was Lord Coriso.

“You’ve brought a lot of people to escort the weekly supply wagon, Daglin,” he called down from the battlements.

“There are bandits about, my lord,” Daglin called back, “your men haven’t left the castle in a week, and they’ve come to take advantage. Open up and let us in. It’s not safe out here.”

“He could at least try to sell it a little,” Rovie whispered to Loric, who rolled his eyes.

Coriso sneered, clearly not believing the obvious lie. “Do you really expect me to open the gates for you?”

“No,” Gavik said as he stepped forward, “we are here to demand you surrender this castle to us and leave these lands at once.”

Coriso laughed derisively and his men joined in. “And who might you be?” he demanded once the laughter died down.

“I am Gavik of Gofeldin,” he replied haughtily as he folded his thick arms across his broad chest, “I am the leader of the Peasant’s Movement.”

Rovie winced at the name. Gavik had taken it to mock the nobles’ naming conventions and he thought it would antagonise them unnecessarily. They were touchy about peasants affecting their personal styles.

“And what if I refuse, Gavik of Gofeldin?” Coriso asked mockingly.

“Do it!” Gavik cried.

The wagon’s driver whipped his horse, causing it to turn the wagon so that it showed its side to the walls. At the same time, the men reached into the wagon and retrieved their weapons. Rovie took a bow and arrow, while Loric took Laberdine’s great sword. The others also took bows for themselves. The eight muskets they had brought were taken by Daglin and the other veterans. Once the wagon was in position, the driver scrambled to unhitch it before taking to his heels down the road.

“Fire!” Daglin cried.

The muskets had been loaded and primed beforehand, and Rovie jumped as they let off a volley. One man of Coriso’s men shrieked as the acrid smell of gunpowder filled Rovie’s nostrils, and the defenders scrambled to ready their weapons.

“Fire, you dolts!” Coriso bellowed.

Rovie shot off an arrow. He saw it strike the battlement and ducked behind the wagon. It was crowded there, with twenty men huddled behind it. The musketeers were kneeling, methodically reloading their muskets. First powder from their powder horns. Then tamping it with their rods. Then, a final wad of paper to seal any gaps was shoved in with the rod. Before they were done, an answering volley from the castle. Wood that hadn’t been reinforced by iron splintered off the wagon as it was struck by a hail of gunfire.

“Wait!” Gavik shouted as one of the bowmen leaned out to get a shot off. He was quickly mowed down by another hail of gunfire.

“They must have preloaded every musket they have,” Daglin remarked grimly, “looks like you were right.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same?” Gavik replied.

“Surrender now or I’ll burn the town down!” Coriso threatened just before another volley of musket fire landed around them.

“One more volley,” Gavik said, “get ready everyone.”

“Now!”

Daglins’ men stepped back from the wagon and fired off a volley. Without waiting to see if they struck their targets, they quickly ducked back into cover as the answering volley threw up dirt around where they had just been standing.

“Fall back!” Gavik bellowed, loud enough for the defenders to hear, “they have too many men!”

On Gavik’s order, the men broke from cover and fled down the hill. Rovie fired an arrow before turning to run and saw it sail well wide out of the corner of his eye.

“They’re running!” one of Coriso’s men shouted in disbelief, “the yellow-bellied cowards!”

“After them!” Coriso ordered.

Gavik brought up the rear as they ran, and Rovie saw a smile creep across his face.

“Run for your lives, lads!” Gavik shouted, struggling to keep the good humour from his voice, “they’re likely to have horses!”

Rovie stumbled upon hearing that and would have fallen if Loric had not been nearby to catch him.

“It never occurred to me that they’d chase us on horses,” he gasped.

“Don’t talk while running, you’ll bite your tongue,” Gavik sang cheerfully from behind him, “and remember if you hear a cannon, scatter!”

“What does cannon fire sound like?” Rovie gasped.

“You’ll know it when you hear it lad,” Daglin laughed.

“Here they come!” Divar warned when they were halfway down the hill.

Rovie looked over his shoulder to see at least twenty horsemen charging out of the now raised gate. Among them was the plumed helmet of Coriso. I suppose it would be too much to ask for them to leave it open, Rovie thought, as he forced himself to focus on the road ahead. Now that there were riders on their backs, every man picked up speed. The men ahead of him began to pull away while Gavik and Loric. Daglin had chosen the fastest runners in Loverto to make up the bulk of this group, and it showed. Rovie looked back again and saw that the horsemen had eaten up half the distance between them and were gaining quickly.

“We aren’t going to make it,” he gasped as he gauged the distance to the copse of trees at the foot of the hill.

His legs and chest were on fire as he slowed down to round the second to last turn. He looked up the hill and saw that the horsemen were only two turns behind now. The sun glinted off their swords that they were now waving over their heads, all while shouting gleefully what they would do once they caught them.

“Time for a shortcut!” Gavik panted, as he grabbed Rovie and Loric by the collars and hauled them off the side of the road.

Rovie gritted his teeth as he struggled to maintain his footing down the steep slope. All three stumbled as they re-emerged on the next level of road and just behind the others. Rovie didn’t have time to be disappointed at how little ground they had gained for so large a risk. He could feel the thundering hooves of their pursuers underfoot now and knew from the shouts that they were close. He didn’t dare to turn around as he attempted to conjure a final burst of speed from somewhere.

The thundering of hooves filled his ears, and he could feel the horsemen breathing down their necks. They had reached the foot of the hill and were sprinting through the meadow. Up ahead, the copse of trees was tantalizingly close. The quickest runners had already reached it and disappeared amongst the trees. Then, Rovie caught his foot in a root and sprawled to the ground. He turned around and saw the horsemen less than twenty yards away.

“Gavik, it has to be now!” Loric shouted as he planted himself between the horsemen and Rovie’s prone form, the great sword loose in his hands.

Gavik pulled a whistle to his lips and blew on it sharply three times. The horseman at the head of the pack lowered his sword, ready to run Loric through. The muscular boy twisted his body as he swung the sword. It was a beautiful, flowing strike, the product of hours of hard practice, and the tip of the blade sliced the neck of the lead horse. Loric leapt out of the way as the creature stumbled and fell, missing Rovie by inches.

Two more horsemen, quickly identifying Loric as their greatest threat, veered towards him while the others, so focused on riding down their foes didn’t notice a dozen men pop out of the undergrowth near the trees with muskets in their hands.

“Fire!” cried their leader.

The thunder of their shots filled the air, felling three of their number. Rovie looked up and let out a cheer of delight.

Taken off guard by the new threat, the survivors brought their horses to a halt.

“Regroup!” Coriso called out.

Four more horsemen fell as the eight musketeers who had just run down the hill finished reloading and fired off a volley. The remainder regrouped in a tight formation.

“Run them down!” Coriso shouted, “they won’t have time to reload!”

Focused entirely on the musketeers now, the horsemen charged towards the trees as they scrambled to reload. Then, an ear-splitting roar that sounded to Rovie like the world ending filled the air. Twelve horses fell, cut down by what Gavik had told him was canister shot. Six of the survivors decided they’d had enough. Their horses wheeled around before stampeding off down the road.

Rovie looked further down the copse of trees and saw the two cannons. Six villagers from Gofeldin scurried about, rushing to reload them. The twelve musketeers who fired the first volley of the ambush were villagers from Gofeldin who had been drilled hard by Gavik over the past few weeks. Upon seeing the carnage they had wrought, Rovie felt horsemen armed with swords seemed positively antiquated against muskets and cannons.

“Carry on the charge!” Coriso urged.

By the time his men calmed their horses, a second volley killed four more. Two of his men decided they had had enough and bolted off towards the road leaving Coriso with only three riders. Rovie couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated. He had advocated for moving the firing line twenty yards out of the trees to block off that escape route, but Gavik had overruled him.

“Surrender!” Gavik shouted. Loric moved to block their escape back up the road though there was little he could do if the horsemen did decide to run at him.

Coriso looked at the groups of townspeople in the long grass behind him and amongst the trees ahead with hate-filled eyes. More men were emerging from the copse armed with hayforks and crude spears.

“Fine,” Coriso spat at length, “you win this round.”

He and his remaining men cast down their weapons. Daglin and his men rounded up the two fallen horsemen who were able to walk and herded them over to their lord. Rovie couldn’t help but feel a shaft of envy as he watched the victorious musketeers break into laughter and embrace one another. He had wanted to be one of them, but Gavik had suggested he’d be better suited as part of the advanced party. He then looked toward the cannon. Their role had been the most impressive of all, and the men who had manned them looked ten feet tall as they congratulated one another on the back.

A bugle call echoed from the direction of the road and Rovie turned to see two men walking towards them from the road. One was a tall, broad-shouldered youth around his age and the other a heavy-set middle-aged man carrying a brass bugle in one hand. He had no idea where they had come from, but the quality of their white tunics told him they were likely to be nobility. However, neither man was armed.

“Well done,” the young man said, “jolly good show.”

“You’re cavalrymen,” Gavik remarked upon seeing their riding jackets and breeches. His eyes narrowed as he noticed their colours and the crimson eagle on their breasts, “Markvist cavalrymen.”

Alarm spread through the townspeople and their elation was quickly replaced by fear. There were a few panicked wails, and people began backing away.

“Musketeers advance twenty paces and form ranks!” Rovie shouted without thinking, “protect Gavik!”

The musketeers moved automatically having been trained extensively to follow these commands over the past weeks.

“Calm down,” Gavik said, “they aren’t armed.”

“Look over there!” came a shout, “they’re crossing the river.”

Rovie looked to the river and his heart sank. Crossing the bridge in tight formation was at least a hundred horsemen similarly dressed to the two newcomers. Each carried a curved sabre that was still sheathed at their side for now.

“We are merely passing through these lands,” the youth said, raising his arms, “the two of us are unarmed.”

Rovie bristled upon hearing that and carefully drew an arrow. The horsemen were riding slowly in, disciplined ranks. They could take these two men hostage easily before they arrived, and demand they leave.

“Come no closer, please,” Gavik said, holding out a hand once they were within a hundred yards. The two men stopped, and the youth smiled.

“That action was very well planned,” he said, looking at Gavik, “are you the leader?”

Gavik nodded cautiously. “If you’re just passing through, my lord, perhaps you had best do so quickly. You are making my people very anxious.”

The heavyset man’s face turned purple, but the youth placed a hand on his shoulder, staving off the explosion.

“My name is Atri niv Markvist, Captain of the Markvist Sixth Cavalry Squadron,” he said, and gestured to the heavyset man, “this is Carodin Barost, my second in command… and you are?”

“Gavik of Gofeldin,” he replied evenly.

Gavik raised an eyebrow. “You’re an important man.”

“So you are from House Markvist!” Coriso exclaimed, “these men are peasants who are revolting against me, their legal lord. I beseech you for aid. You and your men could drive them off easily.”

“Who is this person?” Rovie heard the youth ask the heavyset man.

“Lord Coriso Bandist, I believe,” the man replied, “ruler of Loverto.”

“I’m afraid our orders are very explicit, Lord Coriso,” Atri said, turning to the ruler of Loverto, “we are to proceed to Norinvia with all haste.”

Coriso’s eyes bulged as his face turned crimson. “Are you going to just ignore what you’re seeing here?”

Atri looked at the villagers who had formed ranks. The cannons had been reloaded and men stood about them, anxious for the order to fire. He saw the determination in their eyes before turning his attention back to Coriso. “These men are well armed and well organized. Attacking them would come at no small cost to my men. Renfy is simply the bigger threat to the League at present.”

“You just want them to depose us so you can swoop in and claim our lands!” Coriso said, pointing at Atri accusingly, “that’s your game, isn’t it? That’s why our calls for help have gone unheeded!”

“Taking these lands from these people will be no easy feat,” Atri said, gesturing at the townspeople, “if we did intend to claim these lands for ourselves, there would be more efficient ways to do it.”

He then turned his attention back to Gavik. “I just wanted to express my admiration for your tactics.”

“Thank you,” Gavik allowed, not lowering his guard.

“And to assure you we mean you no harm,” Atri continued, “as I said, we are just passing through, and need to do so quickly. Our western lands are under attack, you understand.”

“So I’ve heard,” Gavik said, not relaxing his guard. The horsemen were almost upon them. There were a few curious looks in their direction, but they showed no signs of aggression.

Atri watched his men ride past them with a critical eye. One man remained behind holding the reins of two horses. Atri turned back to Gavik and grinned broadly. “There, all safe now.”

Gavik raised an eyebrow and grunted.

“Thank you, Gavik of Gofeldin,” Atri said, “may I shake your hand?”

Gavik nodded cautiously and stepped forward.

“That was very well done,” Atri said as they shook hands, “you seem to be an excellent leader and I understand why you’re fighting. I hope we won’t have to come up against one another.”

“So do I,” Gavik said, locking eyes with Atri.

Atri broke into a broad grin. “Now then, Gavik of Gofeldin, may I have your permission to re-join my men?”

Gavik blinked in surprise. “Sure.”

“Thank you,” Atri said. He bowed extravagantly before turning neatly on his heel, “let’s hurry along, Carodin. We need to make up for lost time.”

Rovie watched the two men mount up and join the rest of their men and found himself able to breathe again.

“What was all that about?” Rovie breathed to Loric who was standing next to him.

He shrugged his burly shoulders and looked over at Coriso who was fuming as he glared at the departing cavalry.

“The League will hear of this!” he shouted, “I will file a formal complaint as soon as I’m out of their clutches!”

Gavik gave the departing cavalry a final look and satisfied they weren’t going to mount a charge, turned his attention back to Coriso.

“Well, if you’re quite done,” Gavik said amiably as he sauntered over to where the lord and his men were being held at gunpoint, “let’s go open up your castle, shall we?”

“They won’t open the gates,” Coriso sneered, “they’re under strict orders.”

“Well, we’ll just have to induce them, won’t we?” Daglin said, brandishing his musket, “or you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” Coriso said defiantly, “the other lords have ignored you this long because you’ve wisely not harmed the nobles you’ve captured. If that changes, they’ll come down on you like they did at Gorlin Glades.”

“Why don’t we put that theory to the test?” Daglin asked dangerously.

“That’s enough,” Gavik warned, “let’s take a walk up the hill.”

“What about the cannons?” Rovie asked. He had been fascinated by the cannons after how important Gavik said they were and choosing between accompanying Gavik up the hill and manning the cannons had been a difficult choice for him.

“Pack them up and take them home,” Gavik replied, looking up the hill, “everything will be long done before we’d be able to get them up there.”

The relief on the cannon crews’ faces was visible upon hearing that.

“Glad you boys could make it back,” Grestel said, as she and her father emerged from amongst the cannon crew. Helping carry the powder for the guns had been the only job her father had permitted her.

“Did you see me in action there?” Loric asked, beaming toothily.

“Yes, you were very heroic,” Grestel said, barely able to contain her joy at their victory. She danced a few steps of a merry jig before planting a wet kiss on Loric’s cheek.

Rovie couldn’t help but smile at Loric’s dazed smile, while Nemil smouldered.

“Good for you Loric,” Rovie laughed.

“The day’s not won yet,” Nemil scowled as he looked up at the castle, “is everything still in place?”

Rovie nodded, and Nemil pushed past the boys to chat with Gavik. Soon, they were on their way and the boys fell in at the end of the line as Gavik led the others up the hill.

“Do you think we could have taken that cavalry?” Rovie whispered to Loric, “if they had attacked, I mean.”

Loric shrugged. “It would have been ugly. That said, Coriso’s men didn’t put up much of a fight.”

“I have to admit I’m surprised at how one-sided it is when one side has guns and the other has swords,” Rovie remarked.

“Like I said, the role of cavalry is diminishing,” Loric said triumphantly.

“Cannons are the future,” Grestel declared proudly.

“No argument there,” Rovie said. He looked at the castle and tried to remember if he had seen any cannon on the walls.

As they approached the castle, they could see that the portcullis had been lowered and the gate shut. Rovie scanned the battlements and could find no sign of cannon. Or life. At the front of the group, Gavik pushed Coriso ahead of him. The lord was indignant, screaming threats at everyone present, but no one paid him any heed. The rest of his men had been left bound and under armed guard at the foot of the hill.

“Looks like our toil this morning won’t be for nothing,” Loric breathed.

“Do you think it will work?” Rovie ventured.

“Of course it will,” Grestel said indignantly, “my father’s an expert at these things.”

Gavik brought the mob to a halt two hundred yards from the castle wall and turned to Coriso. “Go on, tell them to open up.”

“I will do no such thing!” Coriso declared hotly.

Gavik shrugged and bellowed, “people in the castle, open the doors or we’ll blow them down.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Coriso scoffed loudly.

Rovie spotted Nemil and his two men walk off towards the long grass close to the wall and tapped Loric on the shoulder.

“Come on then, let’s see if we can help.”

Grestel followed the two boys over to Nemil and his two helpers who were pulling their equipment out of the grass.

“Hurry up,” Nemil hissed as one of the two burly men picked up a sledgehammer while the other picked up a large steel spike. Rovie walked over to the large keg hidden in the grass and breathed a sigh of relief that it had not been spotted. It stuck out like a sore thumb to him, but that was probably because he knew where to look.

“No, not that,” Nemil barked, “they could set it off before we’re ready.”

“They haven’t noticed us yet,” Rovie pointed out.

“They will soon,” Nemil said as his two helpers walked over to the wall.

One held the spike in place against the wall while the other carefully hammered it into the stone. Once the spike had been driven about an inch into the solid stone wall, the second helper retrieved a pair of sledgehammers. The pair then took turns striking the nail with all their might. A resounding clang rang out with each hammer strike, and Rovie cringed, thinking it was a matter of time before the defenders came with their muskets. Their own musketeers had already moved up, ready to provide covering fire if anyone poked their head up over the battlements. No came, and after roughly ten minutes of hammering, Nemil deemed the spike was sufficiently far into the wall. Now came the prybar.

Loric stepped in to help pry the spike out of the wall while Nemil’s two helpers rested. Once the spike was free, Nemil carefully packed the inch-wide hole with gunpowder from his powder horn before sealing it off with clay to hold everything in place.

“Get back,” he called out as he lit the fuse.

“That will never work,” Coriso sneered as the others backed away.

There was a loud bang and Rovie looked up to see it had left a small hole in the wall about the size of a large melon.

“See?” Coriso grinned triumphantly.

Ignoring him, Nemil carefully chipped at the edges of the hole with a pickaxe while one of his men set a small keg next to him while Loric and Rovie set about dragging a small log out of the grass. Soon, Nemil was satisfied with the hole and one of his men placed a plank of wood over it so that the other could fill the gap with more gunpowder. Once the hole was full, they covered the remaining gap at the top with another plank of wood and wedged the small log between it and the ground.

“I wouldn’t want to do that under fire,” Rovie remarked, “it must have taken almost an hour.”

Gavik nodded. “Yes, that was the flaw in his initial plan.”

Nemil scowled before lighting the fuse. “Close your ears and keep your mouth open,” he warned.

This second explosion was large. There was an ear-splitting bang and the ground shake under him. They looked up to see a hole in the wall just large enough for a man to get through.

“It’s not big as I was expecting,” Rovie remarked, as the musketeers stormed through the hole one at a time.

“It did the job,” Gavik beamed, “but the whole process could use some work.”

“Wouldn’t ladders have been quicker?” Loric mused, earning himself a dirty look from Nemil.

“Just take it as a learning experience,” Gavik laughed, “with some work, it could be a useful way of getting through walls.”

“I suppose my technique could use some refinement,” Nemil conceded at length.

They heard shouts coming from inside and the single shot from a musket followed by more shouting. A line had formed at the hole and Loric clutched his sword anxiously, waiting for his turn to get inside.

“This way,” Gavik said, tapping the boy on the shoulder, “they should be opening the gate soon.”

“My men have sabotaged the winches,” Coriso said confidently, “Baron Lest will send reinforcements long before you’ve finished looting this place. Release me and leave at once and pray we never cross paths again.”

Gavik grinned crookedly at the boys and waited patiently at the gate with the others. It didn’t take long for the portcullis to shudder upwards and for the gates behind them to swing inwards.

“Those fools,” Coriso cursed, as Gavik’s smile broadened.

Though it was well into the night, the sound of laughter and singing still filled the air. A large fire crackled in the middle of the town square where men and women danced to the soothing lilt of a vielle. Others laughed while swapping tales of their exploits of that day. Lord Coriso’s personal collection of liquor had been raided and was almost completely gone, consumed with gusto by his former subjects.

Rovie broke into a grin as he spotted Loric and Grestel sitting near the fire, the blacksmith’s daughter was resting her head on his shoulder. He walked away from them to give them some privacy and wondered what Nemil would say if he saw them.

He stifled a broad yawn and walked over to Gavik who was deep in conversation with Daglin. From the looks on their faces, it was a serious one.

“That was the deal,” he heard Gavik say, “we help you here, and you help us liberate the rest of the region.”

“Why should we risk it all, eh?” came Daglin’s voice, “both our places are free, why continue stirring the pot, eh? You know old Baron Lest isn’t going to sit idle for much longer.”

“That’s exactly why we need to continue helping people to liberate their lands,” Gavik replied, “until we grow stronger, we’re still at the mercy of the more powerful lords like Baron Lest.”

Daglin frowned and took a long gulp from his mug, draining the last of Coriso’s, in his words, priceless, brandy and eyed Gavik. “You really think we can take him on?”

Gavik shrugged. “If we continue gathering men and arms under our banner, why not? Or at least make the prospect of taking us on too painful for him to consider.”

“How about House Markvist?” Daglin asked, raising an eyebrow, “their princeling was just passing through? I don’t buy it. Perhaps he was scouting us out, eh?”

“If they were, I don’t see why you think it’s wise for us to rest on our laurels.”

Heads turned to Rovie who regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Gavik smiled and turned back to Daglin. “The boy has a point, you know. Our best defence now is to grow our strength.”

Daglin glowered at Rovie before turning his attention back to Gavik. “I’ve always trusted you and you’ve not been wrong so far. Just wanted to say my piece is all.”

Gavik grinned toothily as Daglin struggled to his feet and staggered off. Rovie studied Gavik, wondering if this was the right time to bring up his concerns.

“Something on your mind?” Gavik asked, as though reading his mind.

“Why did you have me come with you to the castle?” Rovie asked at length, “it’s not that I didn’t want to go, but I think I would have been of more use with the musketeers or the gunners.”

Gavik studied Rovie for a moment before cocking his head at where Daglin had been sitting. “Have a seat.”

“Drink?” Gavik offered once Rovie was seated.

Rovie shook his head and shrank in his seat as Gavik studied him.

“You don’t think our role was important?” he asked at length.

“Oh no,” Rovie shook his head emphatically, “I think it was the most important role. It’s just that I didn’t do anything but run, unlike the musketeers.”

“Even Loric did lots,” Rovie continued as Gavik continued staring at him, stone-faced, “I just don’t think it was a role I’m suited for.”

“What do you think your strengths are?” Gavik ventured quietly.

Rovie blinked. “I think I could use a gun or help man a cannon at the very least.”

“I think you sell yourself short, young man,” Gavik said, giving Rovie a sideways glance. His grin broadened upon seeing the surprise on the young man’s face.

“I will have infantrymen and cannoneers aplenty from among the people,” Gavik continued, “but do you know what this rebellion really needs if it is to succeed?”

Rovie shook his head, wondering what all that had to do with him.

“Leaders,” Gavik replied.

“But we have you,” Rovie protested.

“We will need more than just me. There is too much work to be done, and I am aware of my limits,” Gavik said, shaking his head, “you and Loric have shown promise. That’s why I’ve taken the two of you under my wing, so to speak.”

That took Rovie completely off guard. Loric, he could understand. His friend was strong and brave, but what qualities did he have?

“The two of you complement each other well,” Gavik said, “Loric is brave and will inspire people. You are more level headed and intelligent.”

“Me?” Rovie asked incredulously, “Loric is far more intelligent than I am.”

Gavik shook his head. “You confuse knowledge with intelligence. For example, remember when you argued about the placement of the musketeers?”

Rovie nodded. “If you placed them where I said, those two men wouldn’t have gotten away.”

“I think that went over the head of most people,” Gavik said.

“So why didn’t you put them there?” Rovie asked.

“Why are we fighting in the first place?” Gavik countered.

Rovie tapped his cheek thoughtfully. “To liberate the people?”

“Exactly,” Gavik beamed, “driving Coriso’s men off was all we had to do. No need to risk lives to stop men who have already lost the will to fight.”

Gavik paused and looked at Rovie thoughtfully before continuing, “what I really want to do is find someone capable of teaching you.”

“Can’t you do it?” Rovie asked.

“No, I’m a meathead you see,” Gavik grinned, “fear not, I have just the person in mind.”

Rovie could only nod. He didn’t understand what Gavik was saying. Didn’t he just correct him on the placement on the musketeers? Perhaps this was all a ruse to get him to accept some menial job to get out of the way of the real work to be done.

“Who?” Rovie asked.

“The one who taught me when I was at my lowest,” Gavik replied.