Edwyn wasn't pleased to see his brother. Pyp entered the camp's central tent where Edwyn stood with his highest-ranking commanders.

"So Baldwyn sent you to me has he brother," he said.

"Seems there's been some interest in taking my life," said Pyp.

"So he writes," said Edwyn waving Tager's letter. "Well, Pyp I don't really know what to do with you, all regiments already have musicians."

Pyp bristled under Edwyn's mocking tone. The middle brother was the tallest and broadest of the three. His light brown hair was tucked behind a steel circlet decorated with roaring lions.

"I'm not the boy you knew Edwyn, I can fight, I can lead."

He watched as the other men at the table faced away, "I'm sure that's the case Pyp. Captain" he turned to the stiff man behind him. "Find my brother and his companions some accommodation."

The man nodded and stepped past Pyp and held the flap pf the tent open for him to follow. Pyp wanted to turn and have more words with his elder brother but Edwyn had already began speaking with his commanders. Outside Tager was sat on a barrel with a woman in white inspecting his wounded leg, Isil and Gregory were talking quietly close by. Pyp only caught a the end of their conversation.

"For now Duba, but if it takes too long I'll be gone. With or without you," said Gregory before straightening up at the sight of Pyp.

Before he could say anything her heard shouting come from the north of Edwyn's large camp.

"What's that," he asked the Captain.

The captain said nothing but looked out in the direction of the noise. A loud horn blasted throughout the camp.

"An attack," he said rushing off and leaving Pyp alone.

Edwyn hadn't reacted to the alert raised in his camp.

If he won't do anything I will he thought eying a rack of weapons. He reached forward and picked up a sabre and set off toward the front.

He barely noticed Isil unsling his musket and follow him.

He arrived to a scene of utter chaos. The camp was defended by a ditch with wooden stakes set behind. However at a small portion of the wall their was no ditch and few spikes. Pyp didn't understand why they hadn't bothered to defend this section of the army's camp. Someone had slipped in and set a number of tents ablaze, Pyp spied a large group of men armed with halberds and muskets pushing through the camp cutting down any resistance they came across.

"Where are they going?" Pyp thought aloud.

"They are heading for the powder magazine," said Isil.

Of course.

He spotted the Captain Edwyn had assigned to him rushing through tents screaming at men to line up. Pyp rushed over to his side.

"Captain your men with me."

The man looked at Pyp with confusion and started to voice a protest before Isil interrupted him.

"This man is brother to your Lord, it would be best to obey."

The Captain nodded and shouted his men into a proper formation.

"We need to get to the powder magazine as quickly as possible," shouted Pyp.

"It isn't far sire, the path will take us straight there."

"We cannot take the path, it will put us behind the raiders and they will be able to light up the powder," said Isil.

"We need to get there faster Captain," said Pyp.

He quickly looked over the camp. "We could go in a straight line, through the tents bu-"

"There's no time for debate Captain. Through the tents, tear them down if you have to!" shouted Pyp raising his sword and running in the direction the Captain indicated. He heard the men behind him shout and a stampede of boots hit the ground. Pyp pushed his way through large white tents, he knocked over poles and trampled on sleeping men. He heard shouting complaints from half dressed men knocked aside by Pyp's troop. He saw the raiders still pushing forward the occasional puff of smoke coming up from sporadic musket fire.

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We aren't going to beat them to the magazine.

Turning to face his men he looked to see how many of his men were holding muskets. He was pleased to see over half his men with matchlocks and bandoleers of cartridges.

"Musketmen front and centre," shouted Pyp. He was about to order them to fire when Isil tapped him on the arm.

"Let me Highness."

He stepped out in front of the line of muskets. "Take aim men but hold fire," barked Isil, firm voice brooked no disagreement.

The men looked nervous as the raiders spotted them and turned their guns on them, "Hold men," Isil continued.

Pyp flinched when the first musket shot dug into the dirt close to his feet. He was about to call out the order to fire but Isil beat him to it. The roar of fifteen muskets deafened Pyp, he resisted the urge to clutch his ringing ears.

"Reload!" shouted Isil.

Through the smoke, Pyp saw five of the raiders dead on the ground. Isil was shouting at the men to hold fire again where the raiders were still peppering them with musket balls.

Some of the men are ready to fire, why does Isil wait thought Pyp, he felt somewhat useless stood to the side with his sabre.

The raiders were edging closer to Pyp's men their halberds lowered. One last volley of musket fire struck the encroaching halberdiers. When it was clear to Pyp there wouldn't be another he turned to his own troops and raised his sabre.

"Forward," he shouted pointing his blade toward the enemy.

His musket men pulled swords and axes from their sheaths and dropped their bulky firearms to attack the oncoming raiders. The clash was a blur, Pyp deflected a halberd with the blade of his sabre causing it to plunge into the chest of the man next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the man's eyes bulge in surprise as he died. He stabbed the man who killed him in the throat with his sabre. The pole of a short pike slammed into his side driving the air from his lungs. Clutching his side he slashed at the fingers which gripped the shaft. A jet of blood spurted into his eyes momentarily blinding him. He wiped the bright red liquid with the back of his hand and saw a man raise a pistol at his head. He couldn't look away as a loud bang shook his body. The raider's head exploded in a fountain of gore, a shard of skull slashed across Pyp's cheek. He ignored his near demise and pushed forward with a scream, the tip of his sabre plunging into the melee.

Pyp felt himself leaning on his sabre as he sat on a stack of crates. The battle had ended with the raiders being cut down to a man. When they realised there was no way to escaped they fought to the last. Pyp gripped the grip of his sword tighter and tighter until his knuckles went white. He could feel his entire body shaking.

"Pyp."

He looked up and saw Edwyn.

"I heard about the incursion into the camp, that the raiders where heading for the powder magazine. And that thanks to you they were routed and destroyed". He held his hand out and pulled Pyp to his feet. "It seems you have changed brother and for the better." He grabbed Pyp by the shoulder and walked him through the camp.

"It was a real shock for me, I thought with your reading and music you would have ended up like Baldwyn. But there was a warrior in you all along. There's a place in my army for warriors Pyp, there is a place for you, if you want it."

Pyp willed the slight tremble in his hands to stop when he turned his face to his brother. "I do."

Edwyn smiled, "Good, we will discuss it in the morning I think you have earned a rest." He patted his arm and strode off, deeper into the camp.

Pyp tucked his sabre into his belt and saw a familiar face looming over him.

"Good show Highness, if they had gotten to the magazine if would have burned half the camp to the ground. The organisation of this army is not good," Isil came to stand beside him.

"You did well, not many would voluntarily be on the front line of any attack but the way you threw yourself at those raiders, it was as if you hated them."

"Didn't you, you have to hate them to be able to kill them," said Pyp.

Isil shook his head slowly, "I hate no man, but some must die if I am to live."

"Sire, I will lead you to your tent now," said the Captain they had fought with.

"What is your name Captain?" asked Pyp as he followed the well built man.

"Barnett Ransley Sire."

"Well Captain Ransley I hope we can work together again," said Pyp.

Pyp was given a large tent with a small cot, he thanked Captain Ransley and slumped on the hard mattress. It wasn't long before sleep took him.

Pyp spent the next morning desperately searching for the camp's latrine. When he found the stinking trench he couldn't decide between gagging or cheering as he sat down on one of the wooden benches. Other men gave him strange looks when he trudged back across the muddy field. After he went searching for a place to eat, he found Isil walking briskly with Captain Ransley.

"Isil, Captain do either of you know where I can get something to eat," said Pyp.

"Well Highness me and the Captain were just going to breakfast, come join us," said Isil. Pyp fell in step beside Isil.

"The camp is laid out according to the manuals of Sir Leon Trunker. Concentrating the powder in a single place is the best option, it means it can be heavily guarded and keep it from being stolen or misused."

"I can understand that Captain, but more magazines mean that the musketmen get faster access to cartridges and can fire more."

Pyp listened to them discuss firearms at length until they arrived at the meal tent. He pushed his way through the flaps and took a seat at one of the meal benches and looked around for food.

"The Captain has gone to get us our food, here drink this." Isil produced two mugs and leaned to the small barrel sat on the table. He poured frothy beer into both mugs and handed one to Pyp.

"It's a bit early for beer Isil," Pyp said sniffing the foul-smelling liquid.

"It's never too early when you campaigning Highness."

That got some bellows of agreement from other tables. Pyp sipped on his brew and spat the vile stuff back into his mug.

"God you really drink this stuff," coughed Pyp. He heard laughs from the other tables.

"It's barely drinkable."

"You'll get used to it lad."

Pyp looked around to see who was speaking but it seemed all eyes were on him. He felt suddenly uncomfortable under their eyes.

Do they mock me he thought looking at burly men downing their drinks in one.

He raised the mug to his lips again and drank deeply. A cheer sounded throughout the tent as he drank. It was difficult to finish his mug without gagging but he managed to slam the mug onto the table without spitting any back up. He felt arms slap his back as Captain Ransley came over with a basket of food.

"Seems like your popular with the men Sire," he said.

A grin etched itself onto Pyp's face as more arms clapped into his back. "So it seems."