The column of troops was long enough that you could stand at one end and would not be able to see the far end. At their head was the General, Sir Dorman Cole, recently knighted as part of his compensation for leading this force. He was in full plate armor, the white tunic going nicely with the polished metal. With him were maybe a dozen other officers on horseback, the hundreds of others were not so lucky, they marched with all the enthusiasm of prisoners being marched off to jail.

The men were comprised of two main groups that Sir Cole was tasked with meshing together into a viable fighting force. There were the conscripts that came from the lands owned by the Oren family. They had no armor and were wearing the same clothes that they had on when the army picked them out of the fields. They were unwashed, unshaven and uninspired; and they carried their heavy packs and spears like they were filled with lead.

The other group were mercenaries, men purchased from the Legion. As many men as Lord Oren could afford, all dressed in dark blue robes over black pants. The Legion found the down and out men from every country in Kronos and gave them a home, and more importantly, a purpose. They wore hoods to cover their faces and to hopefully intimidate their opponents. Each had a short sword, a dagger and some had small shields. These men were infinitely more skilled than the conscripts; but they too had little or no loyalty to either House Oren or the cause. They were present for the money; nothing more, nothing less.

Next to Sir Dorman Cole rode Rokus Oren, oldest son of House Oren. He was there to aid the General and of course, claim the credit for their inevitable victory. Everyone knew that for a house to be a truly great and royal house, they had to have victorious knights in the family. Win or lose, Dorman Cole would not even be a footnote in the history of Inram.

Rokus was now a man of nineteen and was eager to take on House Laima for the right to rule Inram. Not only for the glory of his father and his own house; but like many, he didn’t respect House Laima. They had a woman leading their army. A woman! They were open with their borders, allowing unsavory types to take root. Lawlessness was becoming rampant in this part of Kronos, and yet the King was often merciful, even apologetic to those who tore at the social fabric. He felt that much of the time, crime was as much society’s fault as it was the criminals. Without consequences, criminals felt secure in attacking almost anyone not bearing arms. They were rarely caught, and when they were caught, many citizens felt that they were treated with entirely too much compassion. This was seen by friend and foe as weakness. That is why Rado Oren was sure that his family would be a much better caretaker of Inram and its people. His son would go from being a pampered heir to wartime Prince. He was eager to see the blood flow.

Against all advice, the Lord had chosen this as the time to launch his attempted coup. His coffers were running short, due to housing and feeding an army that was still in training. He knew that when he usurped House Laima, he would take their wealth and their ability to tax. Sir Cole only had a few weeks to work with his conscripts, and they were not at all eager to learn the art of war. No true military man was afraid to die; but the thing that bothered Dorman Cole the most was that he would most likely die without honor. He couldn’t help feeling that he was on the wrong side of this conflict and that despite the obvious lack of leadership from the King of this land, that installing House Oren would not prove to be an upgrade.

Inram was a peninsula that jutted out into the sea. It was the Eastern most of all the countries of Kronos, with only a small stretch of land connecting it to the continent. Feld was a large town not far from the border with their neighboring country of Wingard, and they tried to control traffic in and out of Inram. Clifftown was far to the South, on the Kanto Sea. Their ports served as trade hubs for the other countries that were inland. Inram was a medium sized country of exceptional wealth, and it attracted many that refused to conform to society and became beggars or criminals. The people were tired of the bad element that had begun to infest their homeland; but only House Oren was bold enough to use the current unrest to make their power play.

Dorman Cole was accustomed to being a senior knight in direct service to a King, and leading hundreds of mounted cavalry and thousands of Infantry troops. He was in command of a respectable force, perhaps two thousand in total; but it still felt like a suicide mission. A true soldier can feel in his gut if the wind is blowing in his direction on the day of battle. A good soldier, knowing that the Gods are against him, still marches onto the field of battle and dies for his Lord. These men had no idea what was in store for them, and Sir Cole doubted that if they knew, they would be willing to sacrifice themselves so that their Lord could have a higher title and a shiny metal hat. The road from Feld to Clifftown was long; but remarkably devoid of anything interesting. There were no sizable towns, no natural wonders, just a long dusty road with no cover or concealment. He knew that they would not have the element of surprise on their side. The King and his woman General were undoubtedly aware of their coming and there was no way to hide it. He only hoped that the Gods would somehow smile on him and allow him to live to see a few more tomorrows.

General Rin stood at the planning table in her private tent. Her primary advisors were with her as they studied a map of Inram. There were carved figures on the board to represent units in her army and units fighting for House Oren. They were discussing tactics when a scout entered the tent, saluted and waited.

“Yes?”, asked Sir Renden, one of the King’s senior knights.

The scout stepped into the light, “Just returned from my mission to observe the advancing army. The enemy column was over fifty leagues when I left them last night. I rode all night to report.”, the man accepted a flagon of water from a junior officer. “They are making very slow time. Their force is more than half conscripts and Oren the younger is the only one in the whole army that looks happy to be there.”

“Really?”, Commander Rin asked. “You would say that they have, ‘very low morale’?”

“I saw them execute two lads who were tired and tried to return to Feld.”, the man drank some of the water. “The knight that leads them is a proud man; but his face looks like a man who is composing his will in his head.”

Renata smiled at the news, “Very good. Get some rest, then report to me at daybreak. I have another job for you.”

Two horses that left camp with scouts on them came strolling down the road where they met the advancing column of invading troops. They had no blood on them, and they were not winded, so they had apparently walked back at a relaxed pace.

“What do you make of this?”, the young Lord Oren asked his General.

“Whenever a horse returns without the rider, it’s obviously a bad sign.”, Sir Cole answered. “We have to assume these men were killed or captured.” He rode up to one of the horses and caressed its neck. “These horses are not tired. I think the enemy must be very close.”

You could see the wheels turning in the younger man’s head. His wide head matched his wide frame, he was shorter than his father; but was more athletic by far. A lifetime of the best food, and the best teachers had made him into a competent soldier; but only experience can make a man a leader. Dorman saw in the young Lord’s eyes what he feared the most, overconfidence.

“They obviously know that we are close, it’s time to charge the men! Let’s press the attack immediately!”, he said with a fiery zeal in his eyes.

“My Lord, we can’t charge the men until the enemy is in sight.”, he pointed at the woods ahead less than a mile. “No doubt, they’re waiting in the forest there to ambush us, and if that’s the case, we’ll be obliterated.”

The young man was not thrilled at having his idea shot down, though he had to admit to himself that the old man knew a thing or two. Like all youth, his enthusiasm was only lessened for a moment till the next idea came to him. “They know we are here; I think that we should double time the men so that they won’t have time to set their defenses.” The Knight could see that his charge was determined to take a planning role in the coming battle. “Let me at least scout ahead and see where their emplacements are.”

“Never! You are far too valuable, your loss would most likely mean the end of the campaign.”, he turned and whistled while waving to two of the mounted knights behind them. “You two, go forth into those woods and find out where the enemy is. Return as quickly as possible.”

“There you go Sir Cole! Now, let’s get this rabble moving while there is still daylight.” Rokum Oren said, feeling very proud of himself.

The second set of guards also did not return, and like their predecessors, their rider-less horses were found at the edge of the woods. The conscripts were winded and tired as they came to the change in topography. They looked up resentfully at their leaders, sitting rested atop their mounts. They had marched almost all the way across their country, and the men on horses didn’t seem to care that they were tired or hungry. The Legion mercenaries were in better physical shape; but they too were tired from the quickened pace over the last mile of open land. Dorman looked concerned; but the soldier in him refused to show any fear or doubt in front of his men. Spurring his horse forward, he rode into the forest.

The trees were not so thick, there was plenty of light and everything had a cheerful green glow to it. He was sure that he saw an enemy fighter behind every tree trunk, up on every branch that stretched over the road, he heard noises that he feared were the sounds of metal swords on leather armor; but in the end, there was nothing. They passed through the entire forest unscathed, and in a half an hour, were passing out the far end. There was smoke up ahead, and the ground showed that there had been many horses here in the last hour. Sir Cole lead his men out of the forest and up a small hill in the grassy plain that was on the other side. When he had reached the top of the hill, he could see the enemy.

There were a couple hundred mounted warriors under the Laima ‘Rising Phoenix’ banner. Behind them was a mix of about two thousand infantry and bowmen. Sir Dorman Cole sighed, knowing that today was his last on this earth. Their force was rested while his men were tired. They outnumbered his men, not even counting cavalry. Then a smell drifted over him and it piqued his interest. The smoke that was billowing from behind the enemy lines came from the roasting of delicious meats! Venison, he took a sniff, goat, perhaps even a steer. The smell was intoxicating, he almost forgot for a moment why they were all there. Looking around, he saw that the smoke was reaching his soldiers. The perpetually starving conscripts were literally salivating.

Not sure what to do, he urged his men forward. They were now slowed to a regular march, the double time marching before reaching the forest had burned through what little energy they got from a breakfast of gruel. Lord Oren tried on his own to get them to full charge; but no one seemed to be able to hear him anymore.

A group of about four riders broke from the enemy camp and approached them at a leisurely trot. This would be the offering of terms, very sporting of them he thought to himself. More than half of the enemy’s cavalry went to each side of the battlefield so that they could fall in behind the invader’s column. Knowing what had to be done, Sir Cole turned to his Lord.

“Lord Oren, they are approaching with terms of our surrender. I will go out to meet them, you should stay here with the men. If they strike us down, I pray to the Gods that you will take as many of them with you as you can.”

The young Lord finally looked beaten. He couldn’t reply, he just nodded as the older Knight took his aid Sir Renden and rode out to the parlay. He could see that there was a woman astride the front horse, three men rode behind her, obviously in subordinate positions. This was the woman general that he had heard about. She had grown up as one of the O’Bell warriors; but had been traded in her late teens for Gods only know what. Her physical prowess and unmatched skill rocketed her up the ranks till she was now the second most influential person in Inram. Maybe the first.

When they were just a dozen feet away from the waiting General Rin, he reigned in his horse. He looked at the much younger warrior, not seeing a woman; but seeing a worthy adversary. He bowed slightly to her, she returned it with respect.

“You are Dorman Cole? I have heard good things of you Sir.”, she said confidently. “I am surprised to see you at the head of such a pitiful force. House Oren has always been nothing more than a pretender to the throne. Before the next full moon, they’ll be nothing more than a memory. A tale of unwarranted ambition, and of blood.”

“Commander Renata Rin?”, he asked.

“This is war time, that would be General Rin.”, she said plainly.

“My apologies Madam. I assume you rode out not to make my acquaintance; but to offer terms?”, he asked.

“I think if you are as wise a military man as I have heard; we can limit the loss of life as much as possible today.”

“You have already drawn first blood, my lady.”, he said perturbed by her casual nature at his imminent defeat. “We sent two sets of scouts, their horses returned, then men did not.”

“Yes, we captured them. Do you smell that smoke?”, she asked hooking her thumb at the cloud that was to her rear, behind her lines.

“Yes.”, he blanched at the thought of his scouts being killed and roasted.

“They are back there having their fill of meat, and some wine and corn and potatoes that my supply train brought along. I offer the same to you, and your knights and to your conscripts.”

“I am confused General; you would feed your enemy? If this is a ruse, I will personally take your life on the field!”

“No trick”, she said without any anger. “Your knights, your conscripts, they’re all citizens of Inram. They owe fealty to the King, not to House Oren. If they drop their weapons and again swear allegiance to their rightful King, they’ll be fed and sent home before this day’s end.”

“What of myself and Lord Rokus Oren?”

“If you insist on fighting, you’ll take your chances in battle. It is my intention to take you prisoner. Oren is traitor to the throne, an example will have to be made.”, she said smiling, knowing that he could do very little to stop the way things would play out. “Your mercenaries are not Inram citizens, they will either fall in battle, or they will fall to the executioner’s axe.” She turned to ride away, at the last minute turning her head. “You have five minutes after you rejoin your men before we commence our attack.”

Rokus Oren looked at the knight in shining armor as he approached with his aid-de-camp. They rode with heavy hearts. The defeated look on Cole’s face made the young Lord’s heart fall. He was hoping for a miracle; but was now expecting a death sentence.

“They offered terms?”, he asked of Sir Cole. The man nodded as he rode in closer. “What does she offer, this woman commander!”

“General Rin has offered safe passage to the knight’s present, and to all the conscripted warriors. In fact, if they renounce loyalty to your father and swear allegiance to King Liama, they’ll be fed that feast that we can all smell. Then they will be sent home uncharged and with no further harm coming to them.” He did not shout the words; but neither did he try to speak them in secret. Some of the conscripts heard that they would eat and not be killed today. To them, this was the best of all possible outcomes.

“Let the other shoe drop, Sir Cole. I know there’s more.”

“According to General Rin, you are a traitor to the King and the two of us will be taken prisoner. Or killed on the field.”, for this part he leaned in. “The Legion troops will not be given any quarter.”

“That’s it then. I reject these ridiculous terms. Give the order, ‘full charge’!”, he said to the knights. Standing in his stirrups, “Take heart men! For House Oren, we’ll kill each every one of these bastards!”

There was no whooping or hollering at his attempts to rouse the fighting spirit in his men. In seconds, they had heard the choices, death or a full stomach and full pardon. The conscripts marched forward, wary that the few knights that were still on their side of the battle, would strike down any man that didn’t comply; but they had no enthusiasm, at all. They held their spears waist high and started running at a medium speed towards the line of men and horses opposite them on the field. A woman on a horse waved her arm causing the wall of men and horses to surge forward. The field was half a mile across, and there were slight rolling hills to either side causing them to be in a vast shallow bowl.

The King’s mounted warriors rode forward, metal shields on their left, long swords on their right. The horses even had armor, covering their long majestic faces, with horns and decorations, making them look fierce. The men wore full armor, their helmets gleaming wickedly in the sun. As they picked up speed, the hooves of the horses tore at the earth, throwing patches of turf behind them. The sight was so intimidating that little notice was given to the thousand plus infantrymen who were running in formation. They had helmets that covered their heads and cheeks; but were open on the bottom by the chin, they wore light brown leather armor, and each man wore the ‘Rising Phoenix’ on his chest. The sound of all the hooves and metal boots striking the ground was a terror inducing sound.

From behind, Sir Cole was screaming to his men to attack. He had his only few knights to help protect the young Lord. The hundreds of hungry, tired farmers and tradesmen ran towards the enemy, followed by the hundreds of Legion troops. When they were nearly in range of the enemy’s archers and far enough away from their masters, the conscripts all stopped. They threw their spears to the ground and fell as one, to their knees. They held up their empty arms, beseeching their enemy to spare them. The Legion troops were not in on the deal, and they came to a halt, looking around for leadership.

The King’s men all came to a stop, they looked to their General who came riding up. Renata Rin looked over the tired and miserable citizens of her country and felt only pity for them.

“You men leave your weapons where they are and go behind my lines. You are again, loyal servants of King Laima.”, she turned to address her troops. “Let them go, the mercenaries and the rest are fair game. Bring me the brat, and all of the knights, alive if you can.”, she said as she rode back towards her own lines.

When the mounted troops that had flanked the position saw their comrades attack, they attacked the enemy from the rear. In the end, the Legion troops were only a degree better than a farmer with a carved wooden spear. They fell beneath the sword of the mounted troops and there only were few left for the King’s infantry to clean up. The battle raged on for perhaps an hour, maybe less; and when it was over, the only ones on the field were the King’s army, a disloyal noble, and two generals.

General Rin dropped from her horse and walked over to where the noble was being detained. She looked up at the meaty boy who would be prince. She appraised him quickly and found him lacking. She signaled for him to dismount his horse.

“You are of House Oren, are you not?”, she asked the boy.

“I am Rokus Oren, son of Rado Oren.”, he said defiantly. “You have won this day; but House Oren will supplant that weak master of yours. House Laima will fall.”

“Not while I defend it.”, she said to him. “For crimes against the throne, primarily treason, you are sentenced to death.”, she pulled her sword. The boy went ghost white, then anger pumped blood back into his chubby face.”

“Give me my sword, I’ll take you down and your men will know that they follow the wrong House!”, he looked around for any support. Renata looked at the men holding him and nodded. They released him and one of them handed him a sword. The young man ripped it away angrily and got into a fighting stance. He looked over at Renata Rin, fear was replaced by his burning hate for her and their king. She pulled her sword, it danced around effortlessly in her grip. She walked with confidence like his sword trainer; but she was younger, faster and her moves were smooth as silk. She had an amused look on her face that only made him, all the more infuriated.

“Die woman!”, he said launching an ill-timed swing that she deflected easily. He went into a series of swings and thrusts, doing whatever his teaching had prepared him for. She was far more skilled, and everyone, perhaps even the mad Lord himself knew this. Dorman wondered if it were cruelty that she did not finish him quickly. It was almost like she was curious to see what his skill level was. She blocked some blows, sidestepped, or back stepped others. She expended a minimum of energy and had not even once pressed her own attack. This went on for several minutes, the only sound was the breathing of the horses, the panting of Rokus Oren, and the clash of steel on steel.

Rokus was starting to get tired, and the adrenaline that had given him the courage to face his death with a sword in hand was fading. The tip of his sword could no longer rise to the level of her chest. Only his spirit kept him from dragging it on the ground. Finally, he looked at her with a defeated look, “I am beaten.”

“I respect that you would go down fighting, that you wished to die as a man.”, she spun around in a move that seemed impossible for someone wearing bulky armor, and removed his head with a single slash. Her sword had been returned to the scabbard before his head had finished rolling on the ground. “Let’s hope your father dies as well as you did young Lord.”

Everyone was quiet. When Renata killed, it was always with unmatched skill and grace. Dorman looked to her, breaking the silence. “What of me General. Should I fall on my own sword? I too would like a warrior’s death.”

“There may be a use for you Master Cole.”, the lack of ‘Sir’ was a stinging rebuke. “I have the proper test of your loyalty. I know that you have been looking for a home, and maybe you’ll have one.”