The aftermath of the battle saw the bloodied fields of the slain in droves. The longsword of Captain Dowvyn dripped with crimson while its grip remained in my hand, firm, stiff, cold. The gray sky above began to rumble with heavy beds as we rummaged through the corpses. We counted our fallen and tallied our losses while I returned to the body of our dead captain.

I looked down to his armour, his colours, his sigil and crest. I looked to his scabbard and turned to my longsword. The blade looked plain and unfamiliar, yet it held something more. Power, strength, control. I could feel it with every second that passed as I held the sword, yet I did not know what to do with it. I removed the scabbard from his waist and sheathed my longsword into its place. Would it be mine? Or is it still his? The leather grip looked brown as did the scabbard. No symbols could identify that it otherwise to belonged to him, but I could not take the risk. I would refit the coverings another time. It was mine. I would make it so.

A voice then called to me. "Harkon."

I turned my head and found one of the men from the infantry approach. I lowered my head and gave a nod.

"Edgar," I greeted.

"Is he dead?" he asked.

"Yes. Horse fell and bashed his head in."

"Hmm..." Edgar sighed for a moment and crouched down to examine him. "Remove his armour. We'll bury him here along with the others. We can't carry the dead back. Too far, too many."

"How many did we lose?"

"Three thousand," he said coldly. "Around three thousand. We're still counting. Only a few hundred remain. The other captains also died. The other armies are gone though. Our men are all that's left."

He then stood up and dusted his hands. "If you're gonna rob him, don't take anything with any sigils or markings. You'll get caught, but... We probably won't get paid after such losses. Still, I saw how you fought as did everyone else. Take what you can. You deserve something at least."

"Thank you, Edgar," I replied.

"Don't thank me yet. We're not out of this until we get back home," he said.

I scoffed to myself and looked to the corpse at my feet. My eyes drifted back to the blade at my hip. Edgar did not notice. The again, he probably was not looking for it. I took a deep breath and let out a sigh. I needed to bury this secret, but the dead man intrigued me. Who was Dowvyn? How did he get this sword? What is it exactly? Questions that should be answered, but lie dead with the knight. Regardless, I owe him the right to a decent burial.

Hours passed as we gathered the dead, stockpiled on their equipment, and buried them in a ditch. I buried Dowvyn under a tree, but made sure to remove his armour and clothes. We folded up the clothes of the dead nobles and kept the armour of the knights. The rest was stashed into the wagons along with the extra swords. Some removed the crests and dressed the plates onto their bodies. Many of them were prepared for a fight on the way back, an ambush or a second attack to stop us from regrouping, but matters of leadership plagued them.

"Francis!"

"Just pick one of the sergeants!"

"No! It should be you, Marcus! You have a way with words."

"I'm not speaking to the King!"

I stood by the side as they argued. My helm in hand while I chewed on some bread. Edgar then walked up to me.

"Confused?" he asked and I nodded.

"What's going on? Why are they arguing about this? Shouldn't it be obvious? Command goes to Sergeant Hector," I replied.

"They don't want to be the one to deliver the news. This battle was all that stood between us and the Black Knight," Edgar said.

"So? We won."

"But at a cost. The Barons are dead. The hired sellswords like Captain Dowvyn are dead. The kingdom lacks a standing force now. If the Black Knight regroups and attacks, we'll be defenseless," Edgar said.

"He still holds a larger force? I doubt he would risk it unless he knew of this battle's results. Even then, we aren't the only ones fighting him. If he decides to attack, it leaves much of his territory open for the other kingdoms to take by force. He needed us to lose. He needed his army to march on the capital. He needed our land. But we won, and now he has no stronghold in the South, " I explained.

"Perhaps, but we could also be wrong. Perhaps he attacked the other kingdoms with a split amount of forces? Maybe we faced the weaker army? Or this battle is just bait? To have us waste our numbers in open fields so that our capital is weaker," Edgar suggested as he folded his arms.

I frowned. "That sounds like paranoia."

He nodded. "Exactly. That is what our King sounds like. Fear has gripped him and none of them wish to face his uncertain mind. He might react in a number of ways and we all might be executed for this."

"Is that the reasoning for this? None wish to be the cause of our deaths?" I asked.

"Or their own," Edgar replied.

"What do you think then? About this battle? About the Black Knight?" I asked.

Edgar sighed and looked around. "To be honest, I think we were let off easy with this. This was a bad location to fight. Their men are good, strong, hard, but their leaders are not. I don't think the Black Knight would have allowed the battle to take place here. This was either a distraction, or a test. I could be wrong, but I don't think we'll see a large enough force like this again. Maybe we'll survive? I don't know. We'll probably die in the next battle."

I then looked back to the men who argued. I looked back down to my longsword and sighed. A boldness gripped me with the weapon. I rested my hand on the hilt and felt the familiar grip slowly tighten around my neck. It was a strange sensation, as if I were holding my breath, yet it did not feel like a hand or limb. It felt as though my insides tightened and grew stiff.

"Are we certain that it has to be one of us to report to the King?" I asked.

"You haven't served under too many nobles, hmm? That's usually the custom. Reports are given directly by the military commander. Usually our barons and counts. Big victories have the richest bastard spouting his success while the losses are done by the poor sods like us," Edgar explained.

"I served for a few years. Mostly did foraging and blacksmithing," I answered.

"Labour boy, huh? A man after my own heart," he chuckled. "Don't worry about it. We can split off once we return to the capital."

"No."

"Hmm? What?"

I walked right ahead to the group and pushed in front of them. My eyes fixed toward them and chest burned.

"Stop this!" I yelled. "Don't bark at yourselves like this! If you cannot choose a new leader, then let me take the position!"

Francis and Marcus as well several of the other men looked in confusion. A few then spoke.

"Hakon?"

"Is he the one? I heard you held the front."

I tightened my grip on the hilt. "I am. Let me give the report. I'll face the King."

Edgar looked in surprise. Some of the others shifted suspiciously.

Francis then spoke. "Harkon... Are you sure? You might die."

My thumb rubbed against the pommel. Even if the King tried to kill to me, I could fight my way out. With this blade, I could do anything. I could just kill the King, kill everyone.

"So? I have nothing much else to live for. I came here prepared to die. I have no family. I came from some pile of sticks. Just as all of you. We who survived should live. Maybe some of you are like me, perhaps some are different. Some might have families, some may wish to make families. Why should it matter if I die?" I said.

Half of it was true. Nothing of value could be attributed to my life, but then again, I felt my confidence embolden with every second I gripped the sword.

"Hmm... I don't trust this. He's lying! He's just going to try and use his deeds to persuade the King to give him a title or gold!" another man yelled.

Why would that matter? If that were true, only one person either way would get land. The rest would suffer.

"Then we don't say anything about it. I'll keep silent about my deeds and you should do the same! If you feel me greedy, then exclude my efforts. We're already dead men as it is. Corpses that should have stayed in the field. But we survived!" I shouted.

I paused for a moment. I had never given a speech before, at least not one that was out loud, but I felt as though I was managing well for what it was worth. The men shifted suspiciously as they looked between one another. Sergeant Hector, a stiff man with a brown beard, stepped forth.

"Hmm... Harkon, yes?" he asked and I nodded. "Don't stand there and act stupid. The same goes for the rest of you! Stop mouthing off our deaths! The King may be reckless, but we will not die on a whim! Command goes to me by rank so I will assume it as such!"

I bit my lip for a moment but resounded to look ahead towards the man. Hector said little during the argument, or anything at all. Why speak up now against me? I looked around to the others as eyes gazed between us two.

"Is that understood, Harkon?" Hector asked.

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I nodded and stepped away. I shifted back towards Edgar who giggled to himself. He slapped a hand against my shoulder and grinned.

"What?" I asked with a frown.

"You're a bold one, Harkon. Struck down fifty men and tried to take command of our army. Why, you sounded just like the Black Knight for a moment. Filled with large speeches and verbose words, yet you're still a labour boy like the rest of us, so all those words sounded as fine as the bloody armour we all took," Edgar said proudly.

I scoffed and punched his shoulder in return. "Don't mock me, Edgar. I was just trying to help."

Edgar smiled. "Don't mind me, kid. I took notice, as did everyone else," he gestured with a nod and I saw several of the men as they whispered and glanced at me over their shoulders. "Just as you said though. We're not out of this yet. Come. Let's see what our new Marshal decides."

It took a while to ready the caravans and begin the journey back. The plated armour of most clattered and shook as they marched. Stolen armaments and gear that many felt glad to now own despite the blood. Hector led us away from the battlefield as we heard crows fly over to feast on the fallen.

"Damned cravens," Edgar growled at the black birds. "Imagine being eaten by those things. Ripping into your flesh, plucking out your eyes."

"That's why we buried our own," I said.

"I know, I know... They just make me unsettled. Bad omens of the Gods," he whispered.

"Gods? Are you religious, Edgar?" I asked.

He huffed. "No room for prayer amongst us. Only the nobles and farmers bark out the words of the Goddess."

"Then what gods do you worship?"

"I worship none, but my old pa used to speak of the Travelers. Gods who came to these lands. The Dead One, the Great Dolvir, the Son of Light. Just tales like any other."

I smiled. "Tales like the Black Knight?"

He snickered. "I'm sure some of his life is based on truth. Why else would he command such a powerful empire?"

"True..."

"Smoke!" One of the men cried out. "Smoke! Over the woods! There!"

The men came to a halt as they looked ahead to see a black cloud of smoke rise from the far end of the woods. It looked further than that though. Hector then rode in front of us with a frown.

"Hmm... It might be coming from a village," he said. "Alright then... We'll hold here for a moment! Captain Marcus! Gather some men and scout ahead. Find the cause of the smoke."

Edgar narrowed his eyes at the location and looked around to the others. I followed his gaze as a few of the other men gave stern frowns.

"You know where that's coming from, don't you? Serrin," Edgar said to the men as whispers shifted between them.

"What's Serrin?" I asked.

"It's a village not far from here. Most of us met there before we marched out to fight," one of the others spoke.

"It's our home," Edgar added as a few nodded in return. "What do we do? Harold won't just let us head off."

Some of the others hesitated. I could feel their sentiments. My own home village was torched and raided many years ago. If they wanted to save their home, why not?

"Just wait for Marcus to get back and give us the word of what's going on. If it's indeed your village, then we should at least try to prepare to fight for it, but don't be too hasty. If there's too many men, it'd be better if you survive rather than die now. We can regroup and plan an ambush if needed," I said.

Edgar sighed and folded his arms. A stiff frown framed his face as he looked ahead with a scowl. Some of the others took my words to heart and waited with lost eyes. Marcus soon returned with an empty breath and his chest heaving.

"What did you see, Marcus?" Harold asked.

"Green banners! The Black Knight! He's led his army through the valley! More smoke stretch over the mountains! He's captured the southern province! His army pushed to Serrin while we were away! The village is overrun!" Marcus shouted.

Whispers then filled the army as chatter filled their lips.

"Serrin's gone...? But..." Francis held his breath.

Edgar's eyes stretch wide with folded glance of his eyebrows. His eyes looked red for a moment before he squeezed his grip on his weapon.

"There's more!" Marcus added. "There were red banners! The charge was a golden crown!"

Harold's eyes widened in shock as did a few others. "Red banners... The Prince! Damn it all... Men! Rally your weapons! We move to reinforce the Prince!"

Harold lifted his spear and gestured forward. Edgar and Francis held determined looks as did the others, but it seemed to not be shared by the whole army. Several others gave stiff or shaken looks. I did not care as much. It seemed to lift the spirits of Edgar and the others, so I would support them, but the dread did not reach me. I might still die though. My mind would need to remain focused, strict, harsh. I'll kill as many as I can, as many as my arms can allow. My blade will give me a name and a future.

"Form ranks! We march in formation!" the captain yelled.

I followed by with the infantry and continued forward. Our boots hit the earth and stone. Edgar stood by my side with a strained gaze. His spear was gripped by a tight hand and a bloodied stare. He must have had family at Serrin.

We emerged from the forest to find ourselves atop a hill. The fires burned before us with an ashen pillar. A village ahead of us was in a blaze with fighting in the front. Infantry lines were mixed in the center with green banners and red banners. The green swarmed the red like a flood. The Prince was somewhere amidst the chaos or dead. We would take advantage and save them, but our eyes caught the glimpse of a larger force circling around the village. Another ten thousand that combined in ranks while cavalry was sent forth. The riders raced around the red banners and smashed into their rear.

Then they saw us. They sounded their horns and the army rushed forward to cover their flanks. Then Harold blew his horn.

"Captains! Bring the men forth! Cover the line with spears! At the front! Have the heavy infantry fill your flanks! Cavalry! With me! Go!" Harold yelled.

I obeyed my captain and followed the formation. If the cavalry attack the flanks first, we might be-no. No. No. No. Hmm... No. That would not work. This won't work. The formation is wrong. They will break our center.

I was not sure how, but I knew. I could feel it. The visage of something else, instincts from deep within. Still, I obeyed.

"Forward, men! March! And keep formation!" the captain yelled.

Our feet stomped forth into the dirt. Running now would break the lines and disorganize us. I drew my sword and gripped the blade tightly in my hand. The steel still looked as perfect as if it were just made. I would let its edge sing once more today.

The ground rumbled under the weight of hooves and we saw the cavalry charging around to attack our sides. I heard Harold's horn blow in the distance and his riders charge out, but I could not see them. I kept my eyes focused on the knights charging towards me. My armour, my mail, my helm, they felt heavy, cold, hot. My breath hastened and I pulled the shield closer to my side.

The voices of the faceless men roared as they pointed their spears for our bodies. I raised my shield as the first rider smashed into my body. His spear banged my shield and the weight of his horse hammered my own as I fell back. Dozens more hit us as the riders clashed into their own men and ran down our men.

I gritted my teeth as I felt the hooves of the horsemen ride over my body with my shield offering the only protection I had. A brief second of air came over me as the horses had passed and I quickly forced myself to my feet. Sword in hand, I immediately attacked the first rider I could see.

I thrust my blade into the horse's side, tearing through the metal with the magical weapon. It cut through and easily ripped into its body. The animal wailed in pain causing the knight atop to look to me. He raised his weapon to attack me, but I pulled my blade and tore right through the horse's body. The creature fell to the ground in a bloody mess with its guts spilling into dirt.

The knight hit the ground with a hard thud, but I gave him no reprieve. A dug the blade right through his chest with the steel peeling away his armour like butter. I pulled it out and turned to the others.

I saw that our center had collapsed into a mess as they tried to defend our flank but could not defend their own center as a result. It was not over yet though, I could push them back. I lifted my sword and charged back to the nearest enemy.

My blade butchered another knight, cut down a second, and decapitated a third. It was easy, far too easy. They had no archers supporting the attack, but we did. The chaos broke their formations and where an hour of fighting would continue, a few minutes was all I needed. Four, six, ten, fifteen, twenty. Over two dozen had died by my blade. I hacked down their bannermen and took several more knights with him. Their swords bent and broke against my steel and I killed more and more.

The slaughter caused many of the others to panic and for their horses to grow fearful from the smell of the dead. My heart raced like fire and the blood that had spilled at my feet kept my limbs moving. The burning fire in my body grew wild and hungry for more. It was not long until the remaining knights broke and ran. Their horses galloped away as they fled over their fallen comrades.

I looked around and saw our fallen. It was not as much as their knights, but we lost a good few. "Harkon!" the familiar voice of Edgar called to me.

I found my comrade struggling at my side as he panted. "Pull together! We need to keep the formation! Everyone!" Edgar yelled.

We shouted to each other and pressed shoulder-to-shoulder. Arrows bounced against my plated armour, but there were too few enemy archers to take advantage. I could hear the shouts of the longbowmen behind us as they marched with us while firing back. Just as we grew close, we drew our blades and charged.

I let my voice roar against my throat like a banshee wailing for death. My blade slashed into the man closest to me and I ran my blade like a paintbrush. A harsh parry that broke a sword and decapitated a man, a counterattack that ripped through a man in his armour, a tactful evade that followed through with a beheading. The sword guided me like a dance and we continued against the thousands.

The heat of the sun seemed to shift as time went on. I felt the heat on my back with a darkening glare. Hours had passed before the enemy broke from us. I stood with a dying gasp for air as I rested on my knees. The bodies of those felled by my sword with beyond a hundred. That was all it took to route the thousands. Our flanking attack hit their side like a hammer to an anvil. A roaring voice of cheers and drunken laughter echoed behind me as I saw the army of the Black Knight flee.

I heard Edgar shout behind me. "Blood of our blood!" and vibrant roar followed behind him.

"Gather the survivors! We follow the Prince!" Harold ordered.

I looked to the retreating enemy. Our formation was pressed to break but we held strong, yet the enemy chose otherwise. They could have overwhelmed us and killed everyone, but they chose to retreat. I looked to my blade stained in blood and then to the men behind. This could be a trap? Or perhaps they were looking to regroup and march in a different direction? The entire kingdom was nearly gone with just the capital remaining. To recover from this would take a miracle.

"Harkon!" Edgar called out. "The Prince has called for you!"

I looked to Edgar whose eyes blazed as red as the blood decorating his armour. His frustration beemed with a sharp intensity greater than any arrow. I nodded to his words and he gestured for me to follow. We marched along the exhausted lines as the army reformed their column. The supply wagons were brought from the woods as the men picked from the remains of the dead.

We stopped before the presence of the Prince who was still seated atop his horse with Harold by his side. They were armed and still prepared for a fight.

"Your Majesty, Harkon," Edgar introduced as he gestured to me.

He stepped back but did not leave our presence. The Prince noticed this and stared suspiciously at him.

"You have done your orders, stranger. Leave us and return to your duties," the Prince said.

Harold clicked his tongue. "Tsk, Edgar! Obey the Prince!"

"I have a pressing matter of my own, your Majesty," Edgar replied with a frown.

The Prince sighed and shook his head before he gazed down to me. "The others speak of ferosity in your name, Harkon. I will not butter words as we lack time. I should see it that such wrath be awarded a knighthood."

He unsheathed his sword and tipped my shoulders with a quick touch of the blade. My eyes widened in surprise for a moment as I struggled to process the hurried event. Harold's eyes widened for a moment in surprise.

"Y-Your Majesty?"

"Too many have fallen. Our last bastion of defense is the capital. We need good knights, new knights, to refill what we have lost. I... We must make ready for the worst. A surrender even if need be or a harsh fight," the Prince said before he looked to Edgar. "Quick. State your words of importance."

"I wish to gather a few men to continue the fight out here."

"What...?" the Prince stared in surprise.

"My home is gone and many of us have lost everything. Give us leave to fight our way to join them. This is no request, your Majesty. We will die here," Edgar glared back at the royal who gritted his teeth in return.

"Fine!" he shouted. "Only those who wish to join."

"Your Majesty!" Harold yelled back.

"We have no time! We must move before they attack us on the road!" the Prince shouted. "Dismissed! Be quick about yourselves!"

Edgar and I departed from the royal before I turned to him. "Are you insane?" I asked.

"Harkon," he glared back. "We will lose this war, no matter what. But... Perhaps we can stall them. Ambush their lines. Something. Something to make them hurt. Marcus and Francis already agreed, but..."

I narrowed my eyes at him. He was not thinking clearly, quite a few of them were the same. A cold desperation and exhausted bodies made them suicidal. Loss of home, bloodied fields. These were dead men. I looked to my sword at my waist and let my eyes sit by the hilt. Something pulled in me again. A dark touch on my heart that dragged me into the dirt.

"I'll join you," I said.

"I- Wait, what?"

"I'll join you," I repeated. "I'll join your little attempt. The Prince might not like it if he heard that the man he just knighted left so immediately. But, well, he won't have to know that. Perhaps with me, you might have a fighting chance."

Edgar stared at me for a moment before he set his hand on my shoulder. "Thank you, Harkon. Hmm... We leave at night."