Eric’s breathing was ragged as he faced off against his opponent. Sweat streamed down his face, stinging his eyes. There were cheers from the gathered crowd, mostly for his opponent, but a fair few were cheering for Eric. They were comprised mainly of boys from Potter’s Hollow who had arrived as part of Sir Francis’ contingent. Tim spotted Ferdinand Soren standing away from the crowd with Emily by his side.

“He’s not doing well,” Arthur observed impassively.

“His supporters aren’t helping,” Horatio remarked as he stood next to the prince.

Drogan was also watching with them, and the quartet were the closest to the action. Tim could tell that Eric was frustrated at being humiliated in front of their friends. Steven Stafford held a thin sword that looked fragile enough to be shattered by a good strike from Eric’s longsword. However, it was light, and his foe was using it expertly, whipping it away at the last moment and then striking at Eric who already sported several cuts on his arms and cheek. Eric took another swing. The movement was good. Compact and swift, but Steven was quicker. He deflected the arc of Eric’s sword with the tip of his, catching his opponent off balance and then slashed the boy viciously across the chest, causing a superficial wound.

“Keep your temper, boy,” Arthur warned.

“My Prince please, interference in a duel is most unbecoming,” Steven said good naturedly.

Eric took a deep breath and focused on his opponent. Tim was impressed. He half expected his friend to roar and go charging in like an enraged bull after the last exchange. Instead, he feinted to the right before letting off a roar and charged in like an enraged bull. Steven smirked and sidestepped the clumsy charge before aiming a savage kick at Eric’s shin.

However, Eric was ready for it, and hopped over Steven’s leg, dropping his longsword in the process. Eric whirled around and attempted to tackle Steven, who aimed a thrust of his dainty sword at Eric’s throat. The boy raised his hand and attempted to catch the blade. The tip of the sword pierced his hand, Eric gritted his teeth against the pain and pushed the blade away, skewering his hand completely.

Eric was now almost on top of his opponent who released his grip on the sword before landing a left hook on Eric’s temple. He then nimbly stepped aside as the boy went crashing to the ground. Steven smirked at his foe who was lying unmoving on the ground.

“That’s enough, Sir Steven,” Horatio said loudly. “You have bested the boy and defended your master’s honour.”

“I’ll make your master his sword,” Drogan pleaded. “There’s no need for anyone to die.”

Steven smirked as he looked around at the crowd who had fallen silent. He then looked at Ferdinand, and Tim’s leapt into his throat when he saw the red haired lord pull his finger across his throat. Emily turned pale and looked up at her father in horror.

Steven shrugged and bent over Eric, who yelped in pain as the wiry man jerked his sword out of the boy’s hand. “There’s no honour in finishing such a hapless opponent off.”

Relief washed over Tim as Steven walked away, and he ran over to his friend’s side. “Eric, are you alright?”

“I think I’ve figured him out now,” Eric slurred. “Just give me a minute and I’ll…”

“It’s over, boy,” Arthur said as he stood over Eric. “I think you gave a good account of yourself.”

“Does that mean I won?” Eric asked as he lay face down on the hard stone floor of the Parade Grounds.

Tim sighed with relief and shook his head. “No, no you didn’t.”

“I hope this was a learning experience for you,” Horatio said as he knelt over Eric.

“You took a huge gamble setting up this duel,” a gravelly voice said from next to Tim.

Tim jumped when he noticed Huntsman standing next to him. Horatio glanced at the gaunt faced man and broke into a faint smile. “I knew Steven wouldn’t finish the boy off. It would tarnish his image, and he knows we can’t be wasting able bodied soldiers before we march off to war.”

“You’re giving him a lot of credit,” Arthur remarked.

“He’s one of the smartest men I’ve ever met,” Horatio pointed out. “And unlike many, he doesn’t believe in needless killing.”

“I still don’t understand you needed to set this duel up if you knew he would lose,” Tim said softly.

Eric attempted to push himself up and Horatio helped the boy to his feet. Horatio then ruffled Eric’s scruffy brown hair. “Because I thought he needed a little humbling. Overconfidence can get you and your friends killed in battle. There will be plenty of men who are better fighters than you are out there.”

Eric touched the wound across his chest and winced. “Well, consider the lesson learned.”

“Let’s get your wounds dressed,” Horatio suggested. “We need to muster in a few hours.”

“I’d better get going,” Arthur said. “I have a lot to do before we set out.”

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“Do you think he’s fit for the march?” Tim ventured. The gathered crowds made way and bowed their heads as Arthur passed through on his way to the palace.

“Of course I am,” Eric snapped and winced, clutching his chest.

“Don’t push yourself,” Horatio urged. “I’ll see if I can secure horses for the two of you once we’re out of the city.”

“Nathan, your role will be a vital one in the days to come,” Horatio continued as they walked towards the palace.

“Well, let’s hear your proposal, Lord Carver,” Huntsman smirked.

“You got your arse kicked, didn’t you Eric?” Tim looked up and their friends from Potter’s Hollow stood around Eric, looking at him with concern.

“Just wait until the rematch,” Eric said through gritted teeth.

“Come on lads, help me treat this idiot’s wounds,” Tim said with a laugh.

The sun beat down relentlessly as Tim stood as rigidly upright as he could. In the corner of his eye, he could see still more men arriving at the already packed parade grounds. He and Eric were standing to attention close to the front of the formation of what he was told would eventually total eight thousand men. The number was mind boggling to him. The entire population of Potter’s Hollow and the surrounding communities totalled perhaps six hundred.

He was aware of the curious stares the sword his hip was attracting and tried to pay them no heed. He and Eric were clad in steel cuirasses that had been given to them by Drogan and were also weighed down by backpacks containing their provisions for the trip. Today was the day that eight thousand Carthuns would march out from Aroden, across the Narrows, out of the kingdom, and would only return if they were victorious.

Once the last of the men had assembled, trumpets blared a solemn note. They were blown by smartly uniformed men wearing the black cloaks of the Royal Guards. Moments later, Storian Dragos strode out onto the raised stage that stood on the Parade Ground’s north end. Horatio, Arthur, Erwyn and Joseph Framond followed two steps behind. The boys had a clear view of him from where they were standing, and Tim knew that they were in a plum position indeed. All around them were lords clad in gleaming armour and were armed with ornately decorated swords atop their armoured warhorses.

The assembled army seemed to hold its breath when Storian turned to face them. The king looked up to the sky in silence for what felt like an eternity before levelling his gaze on his men.

“Brave sons of Carthus,” the king’s voice was clear and deep and boomed out over the Parade Ground. “Today you will march out into the lands of the enemy and redeem the honour that they have now twice trampled upon.”

The king’s eyes moved through the crowd, making it feel like he was speaking to each man individually in turn. “March out knowing that you carry with you the hopes of a kingdom. Hopes for justice for Hulvan treachery. Know that we at home are all praying to the Three to watch over your efforts. Go now, brave sons of Carthus, march with pride and bring justice to our enemies!”

“For the kingdom!” Horatio roared.

“For the king!” the crowd roared back, and Tim felt his hair stand on end. The mood amongst the men was electric.

“Sons of Carthus, move out!”

Erwyn Framond put a horn to his lips and blew a low sombre note that reverberated in Tim’s chest. The lords around them dispersed quickly to find their men who were standing to the rear. The boys filtered to the front and Tim wondered if it was really alright for them to march at the head of this enormous army. Once they got into position, they found Horatio, Arthur and Erwyn already on their horses waiting for them.

Eric looked around and whispered. “Are we going to be the only foot soldiers under your command?”

“For now,” Horatio said. “The rest of the men under my personal command will join us at the Narrows.”

Arthur shook his head and sighed. “It’s hard to believe that only two thousand survived out of the initial eight thousand.”

Eric swallowed. “How many men do the Hulvans have?”

Arthur shrugged. “We think they started the war with eleven thousand, but both sides lost many men when we drove them out of our kingdom.”

“Ah good, I’m just in time,” Tim looked up to see Emily arrive riding a white horse. She was out of breath and wore a broad smile. She looked at Eric and her eyes widened in surprise. “Oh, are you sure you’re fit to march? I saw the fight and it looked ghastly.”

Eric’s face turned red. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure it’s alright for you to ride with us?” Horatio ventured.

Emily nodded emphatically. “I obtained special permission.”

“That’s wonderful,” Arthur beamed. “And what about the camping arrangements…”

Emily smiled impishly. “The matron agreed to that as well.”

“Perhaps we can bring more than one piece of good news back for Father,” Arthur grinned.

Emily’s face reddened, and Horatio cleared his throat. “My Prince, this war will be fraught with danger. You should focus on that. You can concern yourself with your duties as the crown prince once we take Estos.”

“Do you think taking Estos will end the war?” Arthur ventured. “What if King Patrick flees?”

“I don’t think our kingdom has any appetite to continue this war for any longer than we have to,” Horatio observed. “Estos is suitable compensation for the Hulvan betrayal. Besides, I fear that the Central Kingdoms will intervene if we get too close to the Dargun.”

Arthur gave Erwyn a look. “What does House Framond make of all this?”

“Father and I are surprised they haven’t intervened already,” Erwyn offered. “However, our contacts in the Central Kingdoms say there are no signs that they are preparing to do any such thing.”

“And what about the garrison at Monsi?” Horatio ventured.

Erwyn shrugged. “Our contacts say that they haven’t increased their numbers or patrols.”

“That is reassuring,” Horatio allowed.

“All the same, the situation could change in a heartbeat,” Erwyn opined. “We should tread with the greatest of caution.”

“I agree,” Horatio nodded. “I will pull this army back to the Narrows at the first sign of the Central Kingdoms mobilizing.”

Arthur frowned. “Don’t you think that’s a little extreme, Lord Carver?”

Horatio shook his head. “It is as Lord Victor said. If the Central Kingdoms wished it, they could overrun us in the blink of an eye, and I’m not sure if even the Narrows could save us.”

Arthur grunted as a breathless messenger ran up to Erwyn and bowed. “My lord, everyone is ready.”

Erwyn glanced at Horatio, who nodded. Erwyn pressed the horn to his lips, and let off three, low pitched blasts before raising the colours of House Dragos. Horatio and Arthur looked to the king, who waved back solemnly, before leading the second great Carthun army out of the Parade Grounds, through the gates of the Royal Barracks and down the hill into the city proper.

There, the people of the city had all come out to see their fathers, sons, and brothers off. Most of those who remained were women, too young, or too old to fight. Many sobbed openly, and Tim thought it almost had the feel of a funeral procession as he and Eric walked behind Horatio’s horse.

“What a contrast from the first army’s departure, eh?” Arthur remarked as he waved to the gathered crowd.

“The defeat at Estos has left a deep scar in our people,” Erwyn observed.

“Then we should give them something to cheer about quickly,” Arthur remarked. “The capture of Estos should do nicely.”