Rovie watched as the horsemen disappeared into the city. It was about an hour before noon, and the day was beginning to warm. He looked down the wall. He had positioned twenty men there and hoped they would be enough to man the walls. The keep had been silent up until now, with no signs of activity, but he was sure that was about to change. He looked over at his shoulder at the courtyard. Everything was as ready as it would ever be there as well.

“Ready men, they’re almost here,” Rovie warned, as he ran down the stairs. Tonsivar was in charge of the wall, while he would be in charge of the men in the courtyard. Without Logran’s men, they were spread far too thin for Rovie’s liking.

“They’ve arrived!” Tonsivar called out from the top of the wall a few minutes later. His words were punctuated by an explosion in the gatehouse that was so powerful that it knocked Rovie, who was standing a good distance away, off his feet.

Rovie lifted his head in time to see the chain holding the drawbridge up come free and it clattered around as the drawbridge came crashing down. Tonsivar and the rest of the rebels on top of the wall had been knocked off their feet and were now nowhere to be seen. The men who were stationed in the gatehouse were almost certainly dead. Rovie bit back a curse. They had walked blindly into another trap, and it had resulted in the deaths of more men.

“Ready the cannons!” Rovie shouted, forcing his guilt aside as he scrambled to his feet. He ran to his cannon and quickly repositioned it to cover the gate.

Musket fire rang out from the keep, and men around Rovie died. “Return fire!” he shouted, without turning away from the gate.

Soon, the first of the horsemen appeared, running through the dazed rebels with long lances. Rovie waited until half a dozen had entered the courtyard before firing his cannon, tearing four horsemen apart with canister shot.

“Reposition the cannons covering the mansion side, focus them on the gate!” Rovie cried, as his men began the reloading process. His was one of the two cannons assigned a single reload.

In the corner of his eye, he saw his men recovering from their shock and began wheeling the three cannons over. The fire from the keep picked up and more men fell. Rovie turned around and saw that the keep windows were filled with Lest’s men. A rebel cannon roared, clearing one of them of Lest men, but the volume of fire on the courtyard was withering and many rebels fell.

More horsemen poured in from the main gate and dismounted to form a firing line with the rifles they carried. Mounted infantry, why didn’t he think of that? Rovie thought bitterly to himself as a volley killed the crew of one of the cannons. It was clear to Rovie that the courtyard would soon be lost. He opened his mouth to signal the retreat, but an explosion somewhere beneath them shook the ground. Everyone paused for a moment, except for Rovie’s cannon crew and the firing from the keep ceased. Rovie deduced that Logran and his men had finally found their way inside.

“Round shot ready!” Lofton shouted. One of his arms hung limp, and blood poured from a wound on his shoulder.

Rovie struggled to train it on the enemy firing line as they reloaded. A man reloaded quicker than the others and fired at Rovie. His shot went wild and Rovie yanked on the firing cord. He had chosen the firing angle and amount of powder well. The round shot crashed into the line at an acute angle, crushing three men before bouncing off the ground and into another five.

Another of his cannons fired a canister shot. The small round pellets shredded six men and maimed another three. The first mounted infantry line was all but destroyed, but more mounted men were poured into the courtyard. However, the firing from the keep began to die down. The rebels on the wall too had recovered and began firing upon the mounted infantry.

“Find a musket and form a firing line,” Rovie roared, as he picked a musket up off the ground. A brief check showed that it was loaded, and he fired it in the direction of the gate. His shot was wild but forced the horsemen to dismount before advancing into the courtyard.

Quietly blessing Logran for occupying the men in the keep, Rovie began the reloading process that was like second nature to him. When he was ready, he saw that the five surviving men in his cannon crew were also ready and quickly, they formed a line.

“There!” Rovie shouted, pointing at a clump of mounted infantry with an outstretched arm, “Aim! Fire!”

The guns roared, and more of the baron’s men fell. Automatically, Rovie and his men took a knee and began reloading their weapons. Chaos reigned around them as Tonsivars men fired at will and reloaded at will with little semblance of order as they converged on the gate. However, without the support of the men in the keep, and only able to reinforce from one chokepoint, the rebels soon regained control of the courtyard.

Under attack from all sides, the mounted infantry soon withdrew and dispersed into the city. Some of Tonisvar’s men attempted to pursue them out of the gates but were quickly called back by Tonsivar, who had survived the explosion and was monitoring things from the top of the wall.

“That was a near thing, eh?” Rovie remarked from the courtyard.

“That it was,” Tonsivar agreed as he ran down the stairs with his gaze firmly locked onto the keep, “the gunfire from the keep has died down.”

“I’m taking eight men in,” Tonsivar told him.

“I’ll go with you,” Rovie said, clutching his musket tight.

“It’ll be dangerous,” Tonsivar warned, “I’m sure it’s pandemonium in there, and we’re just as likely to be shot by friends as we are enemies.”

Rovie swallowed and steeled his resolve. “I understand.”

He brought up the rear as Tonsivar led his group of men tentatively up the stairs that were still littered with bodies of those from both sides. They walked past the large, ruined doors that drooped from their hinges, and into the keep. The occasional sound of gunfire echoed down the once luxurious stone halls that were now lined with the bodies of the fallen. There were a few groans from the wounded, but there wasn’t time to tend to them. There were a few familiar faces among them, and Rovie’s pulse quickened, fearful that he would see Loric’s bloodied body upon rounding a corner.

“It sounds like there is still fighting above,” Tonsivar remarked softly.

He led the way up a scorched flight of wooden stairs to the third level where the gunfire was the loudest and Tonsivar broke into a broad grin. “The baron’s personal quarters are up here,” he said, “they must have cornered him.”

“Come on out baron, we just want to have a chat,” they heard Logran’s voice boom a moment later. His sentence was punctuated by a hearty laugh.

Tonsivar quickened his pace, and Rovie had to run to keep up. On the third floor, he found himself in a corridor lined with expensive suits of armour. Most had been knocked over in the fighting, and a few had holes in them from musket fire. The carpet underfoot felt like it was almost an inch thick and was stained with blood. On the far end of the corridor was a heavy set of double doors. He saw Logran and Loric amongst the men who were standing around outside.

“Ah, Tonsivar,” Logran said as he saw them approach, “do you have any gunpowder on you? Our friend the baron refuses to open the door.”

“I demand to discuss terms!” a voice demanded from the other side of the door, “if you harm me, the rest of the League will come down hard on you filthy rebels. You will all be dead men!”

“Oh promises, promises!” Logran laughed.

In the corner of his eye, Rovie spotted Loric was fuming at the door. “Gentlemen,” Rovie said, summoning the courage to speak out, “Gavik and the others are still holding the river crossing, we should go relieve him.”

“You can go ahead,” Logran said, “we’ll stay here to deal with the baron.”

Rovie looked at the faces of Logran, Tonsivar, and their men. All their attention was fixed on the door, and Rovie feared what they would do once they got their hands on the baron.

“Come on Loric,” he pleaded, “let’s fetch Gavik. He’ll know how to sort this out.”

Loric looked at Rovie and then turned away. “Go on without me.”

Rovie’s shoulders slumped, and he out of the keep alone. He looked around the courtyard and was shocked to find fewer than forty men on their feet. The battle had been incredibly costly to them, and he wondered how many men he could afford to take with him to relieve Gavik, especially with Lest’s mounted soldiers still unaccounted for.

“What now, boss?” Lofton asked. He was sitting on the ground close to their cannon and another man was bandaging his wounded arm.

Rovie took a deep breath. “Gather up the weapons and twenty men who are able to fight. We need to help Gavik.”

Lofton raised an eyebrow. “We barely have enough men to defend against another attack and how are twenty of us going to be of any help?”

Rovie bit his lip and looked out the gate. If Logran or Tonsivar were with them, they could raise more men from the city’s people. Would they listen to an outsider like him? He had to try. Even a simpleton could foresee that something terrible was going to happen in the keep, and he wanted to avoid it. Gavik was the only man he could think of who could defuse the situation.

“We have no choice,” Rovie said as he walked over to the horses of the fallen that looked agitated as they stood about in a corner of the courtyard, “try to get people who can ride.”

Soon, Rovie lead twenty men out through the drawbridge. The road leading down the hill was empty, which wasn’t a surprise. Only nobles and those loyal to the baron lived up here and those who weren’t involved in the fighting were surely in hiding. As they rode past the church, Rovie peered into one of the smashed windows and saw that the insides had been turned upside down. Fighting his growing unease, he moved on quickly.

Once they reached the bottom of the hill, curious citizens crowded the streets once they saw that they weren’t the baron’s men.

“Is the baron dead?” they asked, “where are you going?”

“Come with us, people of Conlow,” a man named Duftas called out. He was one of Tonsivar’s men who wanted no part of what was about to happen to the baron. He and his men were more than happy to accompany Rovie and get as far away from the keep as he could, “the baron is now cowering in his castle. We are riding out to destroy the last of his forces.”

By the time they were on the way out of the city, a sizable mob numbering in the hundreds had formed behind the horsemen. Some were armed with pitchforks or knives or whatever was close at hand that could be used as a weapon. Rovie hadn’t brought any muskets with them to arm the people but thought that was for the best. Those loyal to the baron could be hiding in the mob.

It took them another hour to reach the river. The Lest soldiers had formed a tight semicircle with their backs to the river. One of the representatives stood in front of the semicircle with a white flag raised high over his head.

“I am Earl Findo,” the man said, “we wish to discuss terms.”

Over in the distance, a rowboat was crossing the river. Gavik was standing triumphantly on the prow with his arms folded across his massive chest.

“Our leader is coming,” Rovie grinned, delighted to see his mentor was safe, “you can discuss terms with him.”

Soon, Gavik was standing before Findo. The earl was a small man who only came up to Gavik’s shoulder.

“There is no need for more bloodshed here,” Gavik said, “surrender your weapons, swear never to raise arms against the people of Loz of Boverlind, and you are free to leave these lands through Stroving Pass.”

“You will grant the baron and his family safe passage too,” Findo demanded.

“I don’t know where the baron is,” Gavik said, looking around, “but if he is safe when I find him, I will send him after you unmolested.”

“Fine,” Findo said, “I have heard you are a man of your word, and your terms are fair.”

He turned around and faced the soldiers. “Men, do you swear to never raise arms against the people of Loz or Boverlind?”

“We do,” they said reluctantly.

Rovie and Gavik both knew that their promises meant nothing, but the opportunity to end this without further death was worth it. They watched as Findo and his men formed a column and began marching north.

“Should we send someone to watch them?” Rovie asked.

Gavik shook his head. “They are unarmed and not a threat for now.”

He then turned back to the castle and furrowed his brow with concern. “Where’s Loric?”

“Back there,” Rovie replied, “we need to return quickly, I fear he is about to cross a point of no return.”

“You can explain on the way,” Gavik said curtly.

Rovie told Gavik about what happened on the march back to the castle. Grestel’s capture, the raid on Corlist, and his view of the battle at the castle. Gavik listened with a grave face and Rovie watched him grow more uneasy as more of the story unfolded. Behind him, the men from Boverlind sensed his concern, and they marched as though they were about to face an insurmountable foe, rather than as the victorious army that they were.

Their malaise faded somewhat once they entered the city as the elated people greeted them as liberators, but Gavik was in no mood to participate in the celebrations. He told them curtly that the battle was not yet over and continued marching his men towards the baron’s castle. Disquiet returned to their ranks as they marched past the church burnt out church and soon, they entered the castle. No rebels greeted them. The courtyard was empty save for a few men who stood around in a loose group. They looked greatly disturbed and didn’t acknowledge the arrival of Gavik and his men.

Rovie looked up at the keep and the blood drained from his face when he saw two bodies swinging by their necks from windows on the highest floor. He could tell something was wrong about them, but he was standing too far away to put his finger on what. Then, he heard the shrieking as a man was pushed from a window. Then, Rovie saw that he was naked and missing most of his skin. He quickly realized that the others were as well. He felt his stomach heave as the man fell out of the window and towards the ground only to jerk suddenly to a halt as the noose around his neck went taut around his neck. The man’s hands began clawing desperately at the noose, while the men who pushed him laughed from the window.

Without saying a word, Gavik stalked up the stairs to the keep. Rovie hurried after him and just inside, he found Loric sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.

“What happened?” Rovie gasped as he rushed over to his friend.

Gavik gave them a quick look before hurrying up the stairs with a handful of men in tow. The rest stayed in the courtyard, staying as far away from the bodies as they could.

“It’s not right, it’s not right,” Loric repeated, muttering to himself “none of this is right.”

Rovie looked at Loric and then at the stairs Gavik had gone up and was torn between staying with his friend and backing his mentor up in the fight that he was sure was going to come. He looked around the room helplessly and was surprised to see Tonsivar and a group of his men sitting around a table looking very pale.

“What are they doing up there?” Rovie demanded as he walked over. His question was punctuated by a woman’s scream from the upper floors.

“What does it sound like?” Tonsivar snapped bitterly, “we didn’t want any of this to happen.”

“Then why aren’t you putting a stop to it?” Rovie demanded as he grabbed a fistful of the one-eyed man’s shirt.

“I told you not to involve Logran and his group of maniacs!” Tonsivar protested as he swatted Rovie’s hand away, “this is not on my head.”

“Loric,” Rovie said, turning to his friend, “Gavik will need our help. I need you to snap out of it and come with me.”

Loric didn’t move and continued staring off into the distance. Rovie stalked over to him and struck him across the face. The larger boys went red as he got to his feet and grabbed Rovie by the shirt, almost lifting him off the ground.

“Are you looking to drink your meals for the rest of your days?” he roared, gathering his hand into a fist.

“Gavik needs our help,” Rovie replied, unintimidated, “you can stay here and sulk, or make some amends to what you’ve been a part of here today.”

Loric glared at Rovie who braced himself for the impending beating, but it never came. “Fine, let’s go,” Loric sighed, as he released the smaller boy.

“Let’s go,” Rovie said. He straightened his tunic and walked up the stairs.

“You and your boys should come too,” he said to Tonsivar before disappearing up to the next level, “in case Logran and his boys are not in a listening mood.”

Rovie’s legs wobbled as he climbed the stairs as the stress and exertion of the day began to catch up with him. He stumbled and felt a strong hand on his back.

“Thanks,” he gasped. He turned and saw Loric standing behind him.

“Come on,” he said, “the day’s not over yet.”

Rovie nodded and hauled himself up the stairs using the handrails, stepping over bodies along the way. He picked up the pace upon hearing the sounds of a heated argument echoing down the stairwell and Loric was right behind him. Rovie glanced over his shoulder to see that Tonsivar was bringing up the rear, although he seemed happy to take his time.

Rovie arrived at the hallway on the third floor and saw Logran and Gavik standing almost nose to nose just beyond the large double doors. Logran towered over the leader of the Boverlind rebels who was broader at the shoulders. As Rovie approached them, he noticed a naked stocky man bound to a chair. His face was bloodied and one of his eyes was shut, while the other stared lifelessly at the two men. He was missing fingers from both hands and a bloodied white towel was draped across his lap. He guessed that had to be the baron.

“I don’t know who you think you are marching into my keep, barking orders like you were the Calfurion Emperor himself,” Logran said dangerously.

“I’m the man telling you that your lack of restraint has just killed our rebellion,” Gavik replied. His voice was calm, but his giant fists were bunched up into tight balls.

“I fail to see how,” Logran scoffed, “you’ve toppled far more lords than I.”

“We cast them out alive so the other lords can continue thinking this is all a game,” Gavik hissed, “killing them will force them to take us seriously, never mind this!”

Gavik waved his hand angrily around the room. There was an empty chair on either side of the barons. The chairs and the floor were covered with blood, a ghastly scene that contrasted with the luxury of what appeared to be his personal quarters. Rovie couldn’t resist peering into one of the chambers that adjoined the large room they were in and saw the bodies of two children and a woman. All three heads had been severed and placed on the chests of their respective bodies.

“You’ve gone too far,” came Tonsivar’s voice from down the hall, “take a step back and look at what you’ve done.”

“The moment word of Lest’s death gets out, the nobles will descend upon us with all their might and fury,” Gavik said tersely.

“Let them come,” Logran scoffed as he slapped the bound man on the shoulder, “the baron here’s given us seven hundred muskets and twenty cannons. We can take on all comers.”

“I understand that most of your men are dead,” Gavik pointed out flatly.

Logran glanced at Tonsivar who nodded gravely, “I’d say there are less than fifty of our boys able to fight… that is if they’re still willing to fight with you.”

Logran’s face fell momentarily. He then brightened, “There are twelve thousand people living in Conlow and the surrounding areas. That’s at least three thousand men of fighting age.”

Gavik shook his head. “The League sent more than twenty thousand men to drive off the Renfians, we haven’t a hope against those numbers off with a thousand guns.”

“So what do you suggest?” Logran demanded.

“First, put this poor sod out of his misery,” Gavik said, gesturing at the baron who was delirious with pain and had begun to babble incomprehensibly.

“Estanen will be disappointed,” Logran said, glancing at a man seated in a corner who was observing the baron while he sharpened a hunting knife with a whetstone, “but I suppose it can’t be helped.”

Logran ambled over to the baron and leaned down so that he could look into his eyes. Without warning, Logran drew a knife and thrust it into the baron’s heart. The baron’s eye widened, and Rovie could see that the other had been scooped out. A gurgling sound filled the room as the baron choked before going limp. Logran spat in the baron’s face before getting back to his feet

“There,” he beamed, “I feel much better now.”

“We will need men to answer for what’s been done here, and for our deeds in Boverlind,” Gavik declared as he looked around the room with distaste.

“You intend for me to surrender myself meekly?” Logran ventured, “never going to happen.”

Gavik shook his head. “That won’t satisfy them. We will need to fight them so that they can score a victory over us.”

“I don’t understand,” Rovie said, not liking where the conversation was going, “why do we need to consider their feelings?”

“We need to let them feel that they’ve obtained justice,” Gavik said, “that way, there won’t be a crusade against the peasants of the rebel lands. If they achieve victory over a rebel army here in Loz, they will be able to return to their own lands as victorious heroes. The rebellion will be able to go to ground and lay dormant until it’s time for it to sprout again.”

“So you’re saying we need to serve up some sacrificial lambs,” Logran grunted, “who and how many do you have in mind?”

“I will certainly have to be among them,” Gavik said, and Rovie went white, “I am, after all, the figurehead of the rebellion.”

“Then I shall fight alongside you,” Rovie declared, ready to die for the cause.

“And so will I,” Loric added.

Gavik shook his head. “Not you two. The two of you will need to lead the rebellion when the time is right.”

“What do you mean?” Rovie asked with tears in his eyes, “the rebellion dies with you, Gavik.”

“No, it won’t,” Gavik asserted, “an army is sure to come. However, if they can satisfy their righteous vengeance with the lives of the leaders of the rebellion, the people will be spared. The lords will return, but they will be ineffectual. They will know that the people they rule over could rise up and cast them out again at any moment.”

“What makes you so sure they’ll stop with just our heads?” Tonsivar ventured.

“It’s a gamble,” Gavik admitted, “but once they have their pound of flesh, I doubt they’ll be particularly motivated to burn down villages and slaughter peasants. The ousted lords won’t insist on that either, they need the peasants to survive.”

“So, who else has to pay?” Logran asked, “I suppose I will have to be one of the lambs.”

Gavik nodded.

Logran grinned broadly. “Well, my goal in life is complete,” he said as he looked at the baron’s lifeless body, “I didn’t expect to live to see it and I will go to my death happily. With luck, I’ll be able to spit in his eye when I see him in hell.”

“I will go as well,” Tonsivar sighed, “I’ve done some things today that I will not be able to live with. If I die, perhaps I can atone in a small way, and if I can’t, well…”

Gavik nodded. “We’ll scrounge up some men who are willing to go down swinging rather than welcome their lords back to round our numbers off.”

He drew a deep breath and clapped his hands together in an effort to dispel the heavy atmosphere in the room. “We will attempt to march with three hundred men to Stroving Pass and enough guns for the lot of them.”

Gavik turned to Logran and Tonsivar. “Any objections?”

Both the leaders of the Loz rebellion shook their heads. Logran rubbed the back of his head with his three-fingered hand. “Do you really think they’ll come against us?”

“With everything they can muster,” Gavik replied with dead certainty, “that was always the risk with taking Loz.”

“Not meaning to sound ungrateful or anything, but why did you do it then?” Logran ventured.

Gavik looked out of a nearby window and at something in the distance, “because we needed secure our borders. If we were content to just hold Boverlind, we would certainly be swallowed up by what is to come.”

“And what is to come?” Logran pressed.

Gavik shook his head while Rovie and Loric exchanged looks. The events in the barrows felt like a distant nightmare.

“It doesn’t matter now,” Gavik said at length, “what we need to do now is ensure that the seeds of the next rebellion survive.”

His eyes snapped back to the two leaders of the Loz rebellion. “We need to take stock of the weapons here and get them back to Boverlind as quickly as we can.”

He took a deep breath before saying, “but first, we need to clean this place up.”

“How long do we have?” Tonsivar ventured.

Gavik shrugged. “I’ve heard that most of the nobles are already in Gradja for some meeting.”

“Just our luck, eh?” Logran remarked dryly.

Gavik nodded. “They are likely to come to a swift decision and will not need to mobilize many men to come against us. I’d say we have a week at most.”

“That should be enough time,” Tonsivar remarked.

“You work out how we’re going to take all our loot over to Boverlind,” Logran said, looking at Tonsivar, “I’ll go tidy up here and find ourselves some martyrs.”

“Good,” Gavik said and turned to the two boys, “you two come with me, I wish to speak with you in private.”

“You can go up to the roof,” Logran offered, pointing at a door off the main room.

“That went smoother than I expected,” Loric remarked once they were alone on the roof of the keep, “I expected blood to be spilt.”

Down below, in the courtyard, men were sifting through the aftermath of the battle. Some dragged the fallen to separate areas while others gathered their weapons. Gavik watched them in silence for a moment before turning to the boys.

“I’m sorry,” Rovie sobbed as tears streamed down his face, “I was warned that approaching Logran was dangerous, but I did it anyway.”

“I’m sorry for taking part in his brutality,” Loric added, “I… I lost sight of myself.”

Gavik shook his head and patted both boys on the shoulder, “you boys have made mistakes, but you will learn from them and grow.”

“But we’ve caused your deaths and doomed the rebellion,” Rovie’s shoulders shuddered as he spoke, sure that he was the cause for all their woes.

“If you hadn’t approached Logran, we would have lost the battle,” Gavik said, as he surveyed the destruction around the castle, “as for you, Loric, I hope you’ve learned a lesson from all of this.”

Loric nodded gravely.

“You are young,” Gavik continued, “and had poor influences. What you did was wrong, but the important thing is you learn from it.”

“Are you really going to go off to your death?” Rovie asked.

Gavik nodded and sighed. “I was prepared to die from the moment my wife and daughter passed. I’ve done more to harm the nobles than I had any hope to expect and I’m satisfied.”

He paused before adding, “It is now up to the two of you to carry on the cause.”

“You’re expecting too much of us,” Loric protested, “we’re no leaders.”

“I would have liked to mentor you for a few more years before we got here,” Gavik said with a rueful grin, “unfortunately, it seems we are out of time.”

Rovie shook his head. It all seemed too awful to be real and he prayed that he’d soon wake up from this nightmare.

“Boys,” Gavik said, looking them both in the eyes in turn, “you must keep the rebels in check. Their first instinct will be to rise up at once against the returning lords. However, to do that will be folly. You must convince them to be patient and bide their time.”

“I’m not sure I can,” Loric said hesitantly, “but I will do my best.”

“Remember what I’m about to say well,” Gavik said.

Rovie and Loric looked at Gavik whose eyes had turned flinty. “In the event that I or anyone else gets taken alive, you must promise me now that you will do everything in your power to prevent a rescue attempt.”

Rovie’s eyes shot up, but Loric spoke first. “Why?” the boy blurted.

“As I said, someone must pay for the rebellion’s crimes,” Gavik said, “and the only way to pay for that is with our lives. Hopefully, that will sate them enough to spare the people.”

Loric shook his head. “I will avenge you,” he vowed.

“Vengeance is a fine motivator,” Gavik said, “but you have to be smart about it. Going you’re your emotions over your head is how we ended up in this predicament. This is very important. Do not try to rescue us. Be patient and be watchful.”

Rovie felt his emotions about to overwhelm him and lowered his head. To his surprise, Gavik pulled him and Loric into a tight embrace.

“I will miss you, boys.”

He pulled himself back and broke into a broad smile. “Now, how about I tell you about the elven forests? I’m sure the two of you are dying to know what we saw.”