Jean’s massive grey stallion charger was waiting for them. Jean mounted on his own first, then a castle tower of a manservant helped Vero up into a side-saddle position in front of him. He held her securely by the waist to keep her in place.

Then, at last, they were out of the camp and into the open air for the first time since Vero had first approached that damned city, and that thrice damned tower. She rested her head against Jean’s chest and sank further into his arms.

‘I love you.’ She mumbled into his chest too quietly for him to hear.

‘As I love you.’

Vero looked up in surprise. She heard something like a whisper just above the wind. Or had she imagined it?

“Is something wrong?” Jean asked.

“Did you say something to me?”

He smiled. “Yes, I asked if something was wrong just now. Did you say something to me?”

Vero pressed her head against his chest again and did not reply.

The field command was not far from the camp. It was situated on a hill overlooking a broad field, across from which there was another hill bearing the castle town of Hollowstone. The active companies of men were all out in the field and nothing could get into or out of Hollowstone without being observed. However, she saw only infantry and siege engines.

“I don’t suppose you have much call for cavalry during a siege.” Vero mused aloud with mild disappointment. She had hoped to see some knightly valor in person.

“Oh… We may see the defenders come out to give battle on the plain. My informer was caught trying to bribe the gatehouse men, but that was a week ago and they only had ten days rations left then.”

“What good is a fortress if one only keeps the food stores to hold it less than a month?”

“The current magistrate was negligent it seems. Somehow the granaries became infested with rats. I shall have better leadership put into place once I take it. I already have a candidate in mind.”

Vero could see the companies of pikes and crossbowmen, but also smaller groups of soldiers who stood apart and fraternized only with themselves.

“What are those smaller groups doing?”

“You have an interest in the arts of warfare, master slayer?”

“During the ancient Imperium – and before that when the elves ruled – slayers often commanded whole battalions of troops trained especially for the purpose of hunting dragons. My education, however, did not include field maneuvers.”

“Well, perhaps we shall need to change that. But, you know… the stories always make it sound as though the ancient slayers hunted dragons single handedly.”

“That’s impossible. I’ve seen the dragon bones on display in the Imperial acropolis, it was more than fifty foot tall. No man – or woman – could kill something of that size alone. And mind you- scholars aren’t even certain that dragon was fully grown. But you haven’t answered my first question. Who are those fellows on their own?”

“Artillerymen. They’re something of an elitest lot, but their skills are almost indispensable.”

“You have cannons here!” Vero moderated her initial burst of excitement. “I thought you wanted to keep the wall intact.”

“I do, but I also want to keep the threat in their minds. And if they decide to give us battle, we’ll load the cannons with grape shot.”

“May I see the cannon fired at something? I’ve heard about them being used during the war… but I’ve never seen one up close!”

Jean laughed. “Yes, in just a moment. But I fear if we keep Ser Henri standing there much longer, he may fall over.”

Vero realized that Jean’s marshal, Ser Henri, had been waiting to give his report since they had arrived. After being acknowledged, Ser Henri stepped forward and cleared his throat. He was a large man, a few fingers shorter than Jean, but also a few stone heavier. His face was not necessarily ugly, but it was very flat and plain and his head had been shaved bald. He was wearing a full suit of armor, and his expression was terse.

“Report Henri.”

“Ser, are you certain it is appropriate for your… friend, to be present.” He gave a look towards Vero which was not precisely hostile, but nor was it particularly friendly.

“Yes, it is appropriate," Jean replied. "Because I have decided it is thus. Now report, marshal.”

"As you say, my Lord." Ser Henri bowed respectfully. “There’s been no change to report; except that our men have yet to see an archer on the walls all morning.”

“Not a one?”

“None at all, Ser.”

Jean considered the matter. “Hm… Nothing to be concerned with for now. But remind the men to be ready to go into their defensive formations the moment a signal is given.”

“As you command, my Lord. Other orders?”

“Find Aeolus and send him after me, otherwise continue as you were. With luck they may be preparing to concede soon. Oh! And you might spread the word that we shall be demonstrating one of our cannons for my… friend.” Vero felt Jean squeeze her for just a moment. “We wouldn’t want to start a panic, would we?”

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“No, Ser. Do you wish me to send a detachment of men along with you to ensure your guest’s safety?”

“I think my honor guard should suffice.”

Jean was always trailed by a collection of at least half a dozen knights who served as his personal body guard. They never spoke to her, and Vero considered them mostly a part of the scenery.

After his consultation with the marshal was finished, Jean turned their mount towards the nearest group of artillerymen and began to ride at a steady canter. Vero had lived through the civil war and knew well that battle was no glorious business, but here on the eve of combat when all the men were arrayed in their ordered companies under colorful banners, it was very easy to be swept away by one’s romantic notions. Fighting may be a cruel thing, but it caused her blood to rush and sing like nothing else in the world. It was all the aftermath that she would do away with. The wounds infected by sepsis, the rapes and plunder… the wailing of the bereaved.

They approached the artillerymen and Jean brought them to a halt. He dismounted and then helped her down. He ordered a target of straw bales set up further down the field, and led her towards the cannon.

Not long after, a thin man in a tri-corner hat arrived, trailed by an assistant carrying parchment and writing implements. Vero presumed this was Jean’s court wizard.

“Aeolus!” Jean greeted him cheerfully. “My companion has requested a demonstration of precision artillery fire. Do you suppose you could hit that target at five hundred yards?” He pointed to the bales in the distance.

The wizard looked at the target, then towards the cannon. “Five hundred yards from high ground? Negligible wind? Yes, that should be alright. Providing you’re willing to wait for my calculations to be complete.”

They stood back and allowed the wizard to work. The artillerymen loaded a precise measurement of powder and a cannonball. Then they worked to adjust the bombard’s position and angle according to the wizard’s direction. Jean kept his arms around her waist from behind and whispered more flighty talk into her ear. Vero found herself giggling helplessly in response.

“Done.” The wizard declared as he looked up from his tablet. “You may fire when ready.”

“May I be the one to apply the spark?” Vero asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Jean said with easy confidence over the unhappy looks of the artillerymen.

Vero was handed the match and approached the cannon carefully, being sure that the hem of her dress would not be caught under the gun’s recoil. She lit the powder.

The explosion was tremendous.

The wizard’s aim was precise and the straw bales were struck with incredible force, releasing a rain of straw fragments over the target area.

“One could certainly bring down a dragon with this!” Vero found that she had handed away the match to someone and placed herself back into Jean’s embrace.

“Then you approve, I take it?”

“Very much so! I don’t suppose slayers shall ever make use of cannons such as these… but if they could be made smaller so as to be man portable-”

“Hush!” Jean’s voice was tense.

Vero quieted at once to listen. There was a horn blowing.

“We’re going into defensive formation. They’re moving to attack.” He turned to Aeolus. “Load with grapeshot and get these men into position!”

“Aye, Ser.”

This was it! The enemy was on them.

“Give me a crossbow, I can fight!” Vero called out as Jean moved back towards his mount.

He regarded her astonished. “I admire your spirt Vero, but I think one woman with a crossbow and a broken leg may be of negligible military value in this battle. Besides that, I’m not letting you out of my sight. And I’m going to the field headquarters to order the fighting.”

Jean put her up on the horse himself and mounted after her. Then they were off at a gallop. The rushing wind pulled Vero’s hair into her face.

Ahead of them, Vero could see that a large yellow flag had been hung up over the command tent. She presumed this was a visual signal to change formation.

As they gained height moving up the hill, she could see that the Hollowstone cavalry had come out of the besieged city and were now cutting their way through a swarm of pikemen. Enemy infantry was pouring out through the city gate in a roiling mass behind them.

Jean brought them to a halt at the top.

“Situation!” He barked before helping her down.

Vero came down too hard on her leg, but in the thrill of battle she easily put the pain out of her mind.

“Cavalry charge!” Ser Henri called out to them from the large map table. “Came out right after the cannon shot- but looked slow to me. They’ve gotten stuck into the forward pikes. Looks like the infantry is just starting to come through behind them now.”

“Optic!” Jean ordered.

A servant brought out an unusual set of refractive glass pieces mounted to a metal frame. He held it out in front of him, and Vero could see that together the lenses acted as a magnifier. A very clever piece of wizardry, in her opinion.

“I see lots of banners, but not nearly enough men for them to be whole companies. There’s some confusion at the gate that’s stalling them. Cavalry is surrounded. They’ve bungled their surprise attack, but we can still lose this. I want you to take Captain Crispin and Captain Georges pikes between the infantry and the cavalry. Aeolus is moving the guns to make a killing field just past the gate, it’s your job to keep them there.”

“Aye, Ser.” Ser Henri stood up from the table and put on his helm.

“It may be rough going for a while, but I’ll send reserves to you once they’re ready. When they arrive, use them to push back through. Secure the gatehouse if you can.”

Ser Henri mounted his own horse. “It’ll be done, my Lord.”

And Ser Henri was gone.

Everyone else seemed to be moving with purpose, yet Vero felt completely lost. It was strange to think how there was so much fighting and death so near her, and yet she had no part to play. She stood where she was in such relative safety.

Vero had seen killing before, and done the work herself, but those deaths had come singly or in groups of two or three at most. Now dozens of men were dying every moment that passed. Hundreds, if not thousands, would be dead before the day was over. And somehow the immensity of the matter made the whole thing feel so much further removed from her.

Jean had no time for her. She would have considered him grossly negligent in his responsibilities if he had. So, Vero tried to remain out of everyone else’s way. It was better that she not become involved anyway. This was exactly the sort of political conflict she ought to be trying to avoid. The Marquis had plenty of soldiers, there was no need for her to fight his battles for him.

Jean moved to the map table and concerned himself with sending messengers to one company or another with orders. Vero tried her best to keep track with what was happening, even if she took no part. They enemy infantry eventually began to arrive in mass, but after their confusion forcing their way out of the gate, they could not break through to relieve the cavalry. Cut off from their support, the mounted men were pulled down by the pikes one at a time. Vero could not see what happened to them then, but she presumed she did not wish to know.

The crossbows and cannons kept on hammering the enemy as they made occasional surges into the mass of Jean’s forces, before being thrown back again. Reinforcements from the camp arrived and Jean gave them orders to assemble in formation. Despite the excitement of the moment, they moved with purpose, but not haste.

The reserves marched forward in good order and the fresh troops easily pushed the bedraggled foe back to his own gate. There the fighting intensified, and Vero suspect that they were attempting to bar the way. However, the gate remained open.

At last, a white flag was hung from the castle walls and all the men raised a great cheer. Vero joined them without hesitation.