What passed for a minute of fighting felt like an hour; countless drills hammered into his muscles became second nature, taking over. Leondre continued in short, deadly strokes, hacking away at anything colored green. The objective was reaching the carriage, but now it stood as an obstacle slowing his charge to a standstill.

A horn, low and guttural, rang out in the air. The carriage was pushed aside as dozens of men stampeded out the pass like yellow armored bulls. Cheers sounded, and mottled green cloaks began running toward him. Leondre leveled Roi Soleil to his ear, poised to strike, but they avoided the young rider and his horse like one might do with a plague.

Leondre lowered the blade as the bandits slipped past; he didn't have the heart to chase them. It was already a day of firsts—in battle and blood. No need to add cutting down fleeing men onto the list. Such action went against chivalry. 'But did it matter?' he wondered. Their new group of friends was not content with letting them go. Few bandits made it to the forest, and as the rest retreated, all eyes were turned on the adventurers.

A human wall of yellow and brown circled them with spears this time. Leondre and Cendric spurred their horses, preparing to ride once again when the wall parted.

"...Atten-wait!” An old gentleman dressed in ornate gold & black armor stepped out, waving. “We wish you no harm messieurs!” He nodded to the surrounding men, and they backed away but kept their spears slightly raised. Others were busy helping wounded, dragging dead comrades onto carts, or checking the enemy fallen for survivors.

Cendric climbed off the courser, feet touching the ground he reached in his shirt, pulling out a familiar copper plate. Leondre likewise did the same after dismounting his horse.

“We’re just adventurers, passin'. Got caught in the fighting, 'ought we could 'elp.” He spat to the side, offering a handshake. The mustached ends of the elderly man twitched as they shook hands.

“Ser Boudicat, former chevalier now retainer to the fair lord of these lands. Please, come with us. For there is more I wish to say, but not when danger is near. Yes?” He gave a grandfatherly smile before letting go and turned to address his men.

“On y va! Take the weapons and burn the corpses, but leave everything else.” He pointed to the one man carrying a banner, “We are soldiers, not looters, and time is of essence.” Ser Boudicat nodded in their direction, then resumed issuing commands to his soldiers.

“Warm beds and hot food await us, gentlemen. I want two lines! Put the wounded upfront, and the dead go behind. Let us march!” A young man tugged along a beautiful white mare, passing her to the former chevalier. He promptly took the reins, mounting the horse as he rode up, leading the men at the head of the march.

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Cendric leaned over to Leondre, who was feeding Noir pieces of jerky. “Recognize the banner they're flying?” He was referring to the black raven, its wings proudly raised above several cornstalks, flapping overhead.

"I do not recognize it." Leondre shrugged as he stowed the rest of the jerky away in a saddlebag. Noir turned his head to the side, searching for more. When he found nothing, the horse uttered what sounded like a cross between a growl and a whine. A few of the men marching by nearly tripped, startled, never thought to have known a horse make such a sound. Some silently made the sign of the All-Mother to ward off whatever evil possessing the beast.

Leondre patted Noir's mane affectionately, "You're scaring them." If a horse could roll its eyes, Noir certainly did the equivalent: tossing his head.

'Weaklings.' The rhoan snorted, earning a smile from its rider. A welcome distraction considering what they went through.

"Whelp." Cendric cautioned. Leondre's smile disappeared and deepened into a frown. "If you're done talking to the horse, what's say we continue our conversation. Yeah?"

"Stop calling me that." He responded flatly.

His cousin grinned wolfishly as always. "I'll consider after we've finished this little chat." Cendric spread his hands apart, "Who knows? I may start saying cousin from now on."

"Doubtful, but so be it." Leondre, a twinge annoyed, signed exasperatedly. "These men are Houseguard, maybe contracted mercenaries. Likely of a baron or viscount." He glanced at dozens of soldiers walking beside them, voicing his thoughts. "A uniform force, undoubtedly trained and equipped⁠, led by an experienced knight. Cendric," Leondre lowered his voice, "What happened just now, very well might have been a feud we were caught in."

Cendric removed his glove, scratching his cheek. "Interesting. But I heard the walking ornament say, soldiers, not guard or house-guard." He turned, directing the next words toward Leondre, "Soldiers imply an army, and I thought only a marquis or duke could have one."

To start, since the Duke Rebellions, Prince Erwin, after succeeding his father as the current King of Sparthania, abandoned the old way of lords levying armies to march under the King’s Standard. Instead, a token military force stood by all-year-round, garrisoned in key forts and castles that doubled as training centers.

It was a conflict that happened during Leondre's father's time. In an era of peace, two dukes had called upon their vassals, raising armies numbering the thousands. They led a rebellion that nearly succeeded after felling the previous King of Sparthania in battle, if not for the Crown Prince rallying the Crowns remaining supporters.

"Yes. Aside from household guards, only a duke or marquis are granted the right to muster their own private army. But they are heavily taxed Cendric, it's easier maintaining a Houseguard like everybody else. I'm sure it's an old habit, calling them soldiers, on Ser Boudicat's end." The Franleux nobility had no such rules; they didn't use household guards to the extent Sparthan nobility did.

"Mhm." Cendric slid the glove back on and made a fist. Satisfied it was not too tight, he lowered his hand. "Wasn't paying attention. What's this about nobility and taxes to do with the walking ornaments lord, again?"

"If you are so curious, ask someone." Leondre angrily nudged Noir forward, leaving Cendric to his own devices.