The war started much like any other. A simple disagreement amongst lords and ladies over who spilled wine where or who found what mine over there. Really, it was much less of a war and was much closer to a battle. A skirmish. Two rich men settling things with swords over words just to show that they could.

Regardless of the reason, when Mabel saw the faint speckled red flag in the distance she felt an ominous feeling from deep within her bones. Her joints twitched in pain and she felt her old heart start to beat a little faster, as if shaking off the rust from years of disuse. As the flag crested the hill, Mabel could make out the telltale glint of plate armor on horseback.

Theirs was a small village near the forest at the border. The villagers were a proud people, taming the hard earth with bent backs watered by the sweat of their brow. So far from the so called civilized world, the villagers often had to take it upon themselves to fend off the local monsters and occasional bandits. Perhaps it was this pride that thought they could do the same once more.

So when the knights in armor arrived upon the village, what they met was not the usual peasantry bent under yoke, but a rustling crowd of hardened men and women. Mabel watched from her usual spot on her porch rocking chair as the man in armor who had held the flag departed from the group alone and approached the villagers.

As the man drew closer, Mabel could make out more of the man. Tall, broad shoulders hidden under a worn plate armor that was dented and specked with the remains of days of hard travel. Patches of brown mud and dark maroon decorated his body and horse like proud medals of honor. Despite the layers of dirt and blood coating his body, the man's helmet was spotless. The thick metal helm was adorned with two delicately sculpted wings and was engraved with an detailed insignia Mabel didn't recognize.

Towering above the villagers upon his horse, the man surveyed the villagers with cold eyes. His eyes paused briefly on the sheathed swords and pitchforks before he reached behind him and pulled out a thin scroll of parchment. With a bored, droning voice his eyes glazed over as he repeated a speech he'd made a dozen times before.

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"By the order of Lord Valt, this village has been claimed as conquest in the war between Lord Valt and Lord Gailles and is immediately subject to war reparations and tax of at least one thousand bushels of grain or three of four parts of the last harvest, whichever is higher. Failure to accede rightfully owed debts to his Lordship will result in justified acts of retaliation to be carried out by his loyal subjects, the Winged Knights."

The crowd murmured in hushed tones. Sharp voices would cry out as kind of understanding as to what was being asked spread amongst the villagers. Before the whispers could started to turn into something more, the man in armor opened his mouth once more.

"The lord's rightful due shall be ready by tomorrow morn. Failure to provide as such will be met with consequences." With a click of his wrist, the horse turned and he set off from whence he came.

Mabel watched the man ride his horse off into the distance as the voices in the crowd started to raise. She stood up, joints creaking, and turned back to the house. She heard her son's angry voice shouting out and fade away as the door swung shut behind her.

Mabel walked to the back of the house in a daze and opened the door to the bedroom. A mix of emotions crossed her eyes as she looked down on the small boy she'd just put to sleep napping away without a care in the world. Stroking the boy's head, lost in her thoughts, time passed. Before long, her son walked into the room and pulled her out.

She came back to herself when her ears caught the words coming out of her son's mouth.

"---attack before we get got, I reckon. Ron and that lot'd rather starve but me, Joe n' them figure we can take the lot if we catch em with their pants down tonight."

Mabel felt a long lost fear that she thought she'd lost years ago settle back into her stomach.

"Anyways, ma, I just want to let ya know just in case. If things go off, I want you to go with Lorry and Sam out the back to through the woods. Me n' the boys will be fine o'course, but you never know with bastards like em." He squeezed her shoulder and smiled with his lips.

The rest of the day went by in a trance. As she pulled the thin quilt up over her shoulders early in the evening that night, the last thing Mabel remembered was the look on her son's face.

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Late that night, the first thing Mabel remembered when she jerked awake was the same look, only to be overtaken by the harsh red light coming from outside her window.