Excerpt from Norman Hansacks; Armys: 364 BAR

The main way the most kingdoms, princedoms, and whatever other kinds of doms you can think of building their armies is though the feudal obligation, this is where lesser men, the poor souls, serfs, and the like. If a king the one asking lords as well are made to turn up and do their duty for their superior and fight in their wars as thanks for being allowed to live and farm in the superiors' land. 

Neither of the men seemed to notice or care enough to look at my shocked state. As my brain worked to delude out of the obvious.

I was only dimly aware of the creaking of the what I assume is the lords' desk as he stands.

"Now now my good man." he laughs out his entire disposition seeming to change in an instant. Moving around his large desk towards the large shelves at the side of the room under my blank gaze.

"Sauntering off to war, no matter how small, is never a trivial endeavor" the lord began searching the shelves with broad grandiose swishes of his head "I'm sure you agree?" questioned the lord pausing in his search to glance back at father. I gulped at the confirmation of the obvious.

"course my lord." affirmed father in that gruff but somehow respectful tone he seems to have picked up. The lord squinted his eyes slightly, his lips cocking a slight smile before turning back to his search with a swish of long hair.

"good man. now then" said the lord pausing slightly before reaching for a closed scroll "aha." he exclaimed as he playfully gripped the scroll above his head like a sword.

"can you read my friend?" he questioned; tuning to face us once again.

"No my lord" conceded father his tone steady

"Ah," exclaimed the lord as he walked towards the front of his desk. The echo of his exquisite leather boots thumping against the hardwood floor reverberating around the room.

"How unfortunate. Then I suspect ill have to be the one to read this to you then, no?" he mused a smile never dropping his face as he leans on the edge of his desk.

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"My boy could read it to me if ya wish my lord" announced father, once again bringing me under the gaze of the lord.

"Truly?" he gleefully questioned his eyes widening like a child with a new toy.

"yes my lord" father affirmed. my eyes moving between the two of them

"How extraordinary" begin the lord his bright green eyes gawking at me his body leaning towards me as if examining a strange creature

"I was wondering why you brought your boy with you, my good man," said the lord standing straight.

Fathers reply was an audible crass grunt. The lord slowly sauntered his way towards me a smile ever-present on his face under by fathers lapse in manners.

His form dwarfs mine as he stands in front of me. "here you go boy, let's see if you'll be any use" the lord said as he softly handed me the scroll. His grin winded at my gulp as I grasped the scroll.

I held the rough scroll in my now sweating hands. The pressure seemed palpable as both the lord and father expected gaze pierced me.

As I unfurled the scroll my eyes drifted across the flamboyant black script drinking the words, before I begin to read top to bottom

"His Grace Duke Stephan Hansack of Miltonfield an.."

"Start from the third paragraph, boy, we have no need for pleasantries"

My eyes sprang to the lords smiling face at the interruption before I nodded drifting my back to the page to the shortest of the paragraphs.

"My young friend you know that I am loathed to send a request like this in most circumstances however with that bastard Norman kicking up a storm in the north I have been requested at court, and therefore I must request your aid in dealing with that upstart from Rook mill who believes he can cut up my lands like a roast. I hope you will make haste to arrive at Miltonfield within a fortnight. you will be given command of the garrison there."

My eyes moved to look at the lord and father hoping that my words hadn't slurred.

I met the ever-present smile of the lord though it did seem slightly more subdued and the grim face of my father looking like his favorite sheep was just butchered

"So what do you think Milo?" the lord pleasant voice rang out as I stood there still grasping the letter once again forgotten.

"if I 'member right Rook mill has over a 100 men, milord does that letter say how many lords Hansack left in the garrison?" father replied rubbing his chin in seeming contemplation.

At the mention of the letter, I prepared to look at it again to find the answer father's question but the lords' voice brought my eyes back to the conversation.

"150"

Fathers hardened met the lords' bright ones.

"it'll be tough one milord, Lord Lavash is no fool" fathers said with a sigh before nodding " but ah think we'll be able to beat em in the field"

The lords laugh boomed out like the beating of a drum as he moved to clasped father on the shoulders " I love the confidence, my good man" he said as he patted father on the arms " now go down to the quartermaster and get fitted for some armor we leave on the morrow" he ordered as he moved back toward his desk.

"Of course milord"