Far off on the border of the kingdom of Surcaster, the imperial commander's message had been delivered to the appropriate parties, but an ambush had stopped one of the squads in their return.

The soldiers were exhausted, but they tried to steel themselves as the remnant enemy soldiers came out of nowhere. Although they had won the brutal main battle, things seemed a little bleak for this small squad that had been separated from the core army.

The sound of clashing swords could be heard from a distance as they collided with the enemy. There were very few horses left and now with this attack, the rest were driven off or were injured to stop the advance.

The enemy had planned well.

The landscape below the rough mountain provided very little help, they were all exposed here.

Help could only come from the mountains or forest, but they doubted that the other squads had come this far north of the border.

Suddenly a single arrow shot through the backs of one of the enemy soldiers. Then a few more arrows came, and they saw in the distance horses speeding toward them.

The approaching company was not part of the royal army but rather under the duke's banner of the Ulfric family. This also gave the royal soldiers some renewed strength as they started fighting back.

The enemy soldiers were taken aback by not only the swiftness of the approaching soldiers but also the new strength of the current force they were fighting.

An order to withdraw could be heard through the battlefield but they were given no such chance as the company of a hundred joined in the close combat.

The new soldiers brought more determination than expected as the leader jumped off his horse and ruthlessly laid waste to the closest enemy soldiers. Blood splattered on his face and armour but that was the least of his worries as he pushed on with the rest of his company, mowing down the enemy.

After pulling his sword out of another opponent by kicking him away, he spotted something much higher up in the mountain. These people were wearing the enemy colours and yet they sat there on their horses looking down at the scene. They clearly just wanted to observe the situation and were not planning on intervening.

This detachment were just sacrificial lambs.

The captain of the duke's company turned and pointed his sword at them. They could barely make out the face considering that he was covered in blood and dirt.

The distance did not help either in revealing his identity, but the banner was distinctive.

He kept the sword pointed for few moments, then struck it into the ground as the battlefield went quiet behind him.

The enemy leader clicked his tongue, quite annoyed at the action, and then turned his horse which signalled to the others that they were leaving. There would be another day.

"Should we go after them?" asked one of the officers.

"They're too far to give chase. We'd better focus on gathering up any of the injured," he instructed.

"Yes Captain," said subordinate and he turned back to start talking to the platoon leaders as they had to work together to gather what they could.

"Young Master, how long do you think it'll take to get back to camp?"

The young master took his sword out of the ground and started wiping it down while speaking.

"If there aren't more interruptions, even from here it should be about a three-day march. We're only leaving for the imperial capital in a few more days. We'll have more than enough time."

He put his sword back in its sheath and with his hand casually on the handle, walked towards his immediate subordinate who was busy having a conversation with one of the king's soldiers.

"Boss, I think that should be everyone gathered. Most of the squads have been recovered, now it's just a matter of meeting with everyone else."

The captain nodded and now that he was closer, the royal soldiers could see that he was young.

When the banners had gathered under the order of the king, the royal army only scoffed at the small number of soldiers that the apparently ruthless duke had sent.

The duke's army was not known for large numbers but for being vicious in battle. They doubted that these ruffian and lazy looking youths formed part of the cut-throat army that guarded the border.

Now that they had seen it, if a lone low-ranked young Captain and his company could decide a battle in less than half an hour, then what type of skill did their grand general have?

No wonder the main battle was already over. As the captain took off his helmet, a chilling wind blew down the mountain even though it was broad daylight.

Signs of spring had come early but the air still carried the crisp of winter. The broad-shouldered young man who had addressed him as young Master gave him a wet cloth to wipe his face.

The situation wasn't so bad that they couldn't spare a drop or two of water.

He looked around while wiping his face.

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"We'll report to the higher-ups later, we should have a few hours before sundown so gather up everyone and let's get going."

His piercing whistle brought closer the beautiful chestnut monster he had been riding earlier.

"Altair," he calmly called while petting the horse.

"Tell Lark to make sure they get enough horses for at least the injured."

"They had already started gathering them up young Master."

"Good."

The captain was clearly a man of few words. As he turned, the handle of his sword caught the light, and the royal soldiers couldn't help but notice the design.

They were stunned into deeper silence.

It could never be.

The youth standing in front of them surely could not be one of the soldiers they had heard about. Yes, he was successful in saving them with just a few men at his command, but he was still just a captain even if they had to admit that was a higher position than some of them.

Some of the loose strands of hair blew about his expressionless face as he mounted the horse, the man known as the Blood Wolf of Louvaros.

It was a tough journey that took the entire day with a few stops in-between but by the fall of evening, they had caught up with the core royal army that had set up camp.

The decision was taken that they would start the journey back to the royal capital after resting for a day at a camp instead of continuing the journey to Yuva, the military headquarters of Louvaros.

The captain's company met with two more companies from their own camp, and they were resupplied and provided places to sleep.

Two other armies that had joined the battle under different lords had already departed to their own regions and therefore only two banners stood in the camp.

A black banner with an upward facing open-mouthed wolf belonging to the army of Duke Ulfric and the navy banner with a gold crest of crossed swords on a round shield belonging to the kingdom's royal army.

A few of the royal soldiers whispered that even the Ulfric family banner seemed somewhat ominous.

In their dark clothing, most of the soldiers seemed more like mercenaries than officers but they were a very disciplined lot in terms of training although a bit rowdy when they relaxed.

The battle was won and over for now but there hung a subtle tense air within the camp. It was not merely about the death of fellow officers or weariness from battle but rather a dissonance between the two armies.

Even the tent formation set up by the royal army seemed to be a clear sign for others to stay away from their side of the camp.

"Young Master, why does it feel as if we're being disdained on our own territory?" Altair asked as he stoked the fire.

Some of the other officers smirked or chuckled at question. They were not very affected by this alienation; in fact, it only made them amused.

"Why do we have to mind a puppy baring its milk teeth at us even though we helped it pull out a thorn? It obviously lacks some sense."

A few people laughed, finding the crude analogy made sense. The royal army turning up their noses at them was nothing new.

"Lark, you've sent a message on the status of our company, right?"

"Already done Boss," chimed the subordinate from earlier in a rather blissful tone.

Truth be told, he was rather glad that the campaign was over. Being at camp afforded him more time to find more opportunities to lay around.

"Come on now Captain Ulfric, why are you making us feel bad as fellow leaders?" asked another young man with a smile while swinging his legs over to sit on the low bench.

He took a sip from his rather fancy leather flask and then offered it to the one he had addressed as Captain Ulfric, but the young man declined. He knew it was a different type of water in that flask.

"More for me then. Anyway, isn't it enough that your company took all the glory this time Blood Wolf?"

The people around the fire laughed at the nickname as the other captain nudged him. While it had started out as just a joke, the young Ulfric had certainly lived up it.

One of them started howling and a few others jokingly followed suit, really sounding like animals in the dark night. It startled the royal soldiers at first since they were in unfamiliar territory until they heard the laugher along with the howling.

Sitting there around the fire and making jokes, it was hard to tell that they were all highly trained killers.

"If even someone as lazy as Lark can get summoned to the Imperial Capital, we really must have done badly this time," he continued.

Young Ulfric's lips turned slightly at the corners in a little smirk while Lark on the other hand looked highly offended at the comment. It was only for a second though before he lazily lay down on the blanket again to enjoy the warmth of the fire.

"I hear you and Clawe have been scouted by the royal army, how does that compare to someone who's only been summoned for a few words and not recruitment," commented the young master.

When he said it that way it sounded as if the others had a much better deal.

Captain Clawe ran his hand through his ash brown hair as he took another sip of wine while leaning on a boulder. He was silent the entire time listening to all the conversations around him.

Of course, being scouted by the Royal army of a kingdom was a big achievement all on its own but getting invited to the imperial capital would allow one to make many more powerful political connections.

The kings were still vassals under the emperor after all.

It was just unfortunate that the wrong person was being invited to the capital. Young Master Ulfric had no such political desires even when it came to the positions within his own family.

He was known as stone-faced ruffian who only swung swords but didn't bother to fix this reputation. In all, the young man really lacked ambition.

Clawe was planning to make the best of this opportunity though. Even at twenty-two he felt that he wasn't young anymore. Yes, the Louvaros army was well known and powerful, but it was still quite small and that could only take a man so far.

The chance of entering the royal army couldn't be missed even if it meant being a captain for a year longer just to prove himself.

When a promotion opportunity came about, it would obviously be better being promoted in a king's army than a duke's army.

"Captain Clawe is looking at my young Master as if he killed his ancestors a hundred years ago or don't tell me that you'll miss him too much after you leave," asked Altair out loud.

They all tried but failed horribly at holding back their laughter and a few wolf whistles.

"I don't have such a heavy taste, please think better of me," said Clawe with a smile and they laughed.

It was really all in jest, but the young master glanced at Clawe a few moments later to see that the smile was gone which no one else had noticed.