As the first light of dawn pierced through the thick veil of mist, the encampment awoke to a world cloaked in the embrace of foggy dew. The air was heavy with moisture, and a hushed stillness hung over the camp, broken only by the muted footsteps of soldiers moving purposefully from one tent to another. The sentinels, their eyes heavy with fatigue, stifled yawns that threatened to escape as they exchanged weary nods in silent camaraderie.

Ameth emerged from his tent, his eyes heavy with exhaustion from a night spent with only fleeting moments of rest. The predawn light cast a pale, silvery glow on the camp, revealing the weariness etched into his face.

The armor he wore was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, a legacy handed down from his father. Forged from gleaming steel plates that bore the scars of countless battles, it had once encased his father's formidable frame. Each dent and scratch told a story, a testament to the trials his father had faced and overcome. Over the years, the armor had been meticulously reset to fit Ameth's size, ensuring a seamless and perfect fit.

Aster, his loyal squire, appeared by his side as if summoned by a silent command. The young squire was a contrast to the standing knight, his face bearing the innocence of youth and the earnestness of one eager to prove himself. He moved with the deference of a devoted pupil, assisting Ameth in securing the intricate buckles and straps of the armor.

Once the knight's armor was properly fastened, Aster carefully retrieved the Captain's ranks from a small leather pouch secured to his belt. The insignia consisted of finely crafted metal pieces, each with a pin attached to the back. He positioned the ranks precisely on Ameth's shoulders, ensuring they were centered and aligned with the straps. With a small hammer and a skilled hand, Aster gently tapped the pins, driving them through the leather straps and securing the ranks firmly in place.

Excitement coursed through Ameth's veins as he prepared to take on the responsibility of leading his force for the first time. His heart beat with a mixture of anticipation and determination as he began approaching the gateway to the outside world.

Turning to his companion, he conveyed his orders with a firm but respectful tone.

"Aster," he said, his voice carrying the gravity of leadership,

"I need you to seek out Master Aide Poppy. Relay to him my directive to gather the men at the camp gate and ensure they are prepared for swift departure. We have a mission to fulfill, and time is of the essence."

Aster nodded, his youthful eyes reflecting his eagerness to carry out his knight's orders.

"Of course, Sire," he replied before hurrying off to locate the Master Aide.

Rhodon, his head pounding from a night of overindulgence, emerged from his tent in a rather disheveled state. The bright morning sunlight pierced through the canopy of trees, causing him to wince and groan. He stumbled out shirtless, exposing his robust and well-muscled figure.

With a grimace, he scrubbed his teeth vigorously using his finger and a concoction of herbs and spices, the improvised paste delivering a burst of freshness. Upon finishing, he spat the mixture onto the ground, a blend of relief and disgust crossing his features.

As he stood there, trying to regain his composure, Rhodon's bleary eyes caught sight of Ameth in the distance. Ameth, always the observant one, had a concerned look on his face. With a heavy sigh, Rhodon shuffled over to his friend.

Ameth, a knight of few words, began the conversation with a measured tone.

"Rhodon," he inquired, "I couldn't help but notice that your demeanor last night seemed somewhat distant. Is something amiss, my friend?"

Rhodon, still grappling with the remnants of his previous night's excesses, cleared his throat before offering an honest explanation.

"Ameth," he confessed, "I must admit that I did not take kindly to the news of your appointing Carmine as your second in command. I had hoped to gain your favor, and it vexed me greatly."

Ameth, always steadfast and true, replied with a sense of duty.

"Dear Rhodon," he said, "I would have you know that the choice of Carmine was not mine to make. It was a directive from higher authority. Besides, I have not heard a word from Carmine since his appointment. He has not shown himself until now."

Rhodon, now understanding the circumstances better, nodded thoughtfully.

"I see," he acknowledged, "perhaps it's for the best that he's kept his distance. His presence," he grumbled, "was never one that sat well with me."

With a shared understanding, Rhodon extended his hand toward Ameth. The two men grasped each other's forearms in a gesture of camaraderie and mutual respect, a silent reaffirmation of their bond as brothers on this journey.

"To our quest, then," Rhodon declared, his voice filled with optimism, "may fortune favor our path, and may our brotherhood remain unbroken."

Suddenly, the upbeat atmosphere was shattered by the urgent arrival of a soldier. He rushed toward Ameth, his face etched with concern, alerting the knight to an approaching threat.

Breathless and wide-eyed, the soldier reported,

"Sir Captain, riders approach our camp with haste. They bear the color of the red emblem, but their intent remains unknown."

Ameth, a seasoned knight whose instincts had been honed by years of training, wasted no time. He issued swift orders to the soldier.

"Go, find my squire, Aster," he commanded, his voice carrying a tone of authority. "Have him waiting for me at the gate."

Hurrying toward the camp's gate, Ameth was relieved to find Aster already there, holding the reins of their horses in readiness. Without a moment's hesitation, Ameth mounted his horse, and with Aster following suit, they positioned themselves near the gate, their eyes fixed on the approaching riders.

The bustling camp gradually transformed into a scene of organized chaos as the army assembled outside the gate. Lords and their retinues appeared intermittently, declaring their banners and mounting their horses, ready to march into the unknown. Tents within the camp were swiftly dismantled and folded, while low-ranked soldiers efficiently moved supplies across the entrance.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Amidst this flurry of activity, Amaranth and Madder strolled side by side toward the gate, their hushed conversation a stark contrast to the surrounding commotion. Their demeanor suggested a private matter of great import, seemingly undeterred by the rapidly changing events.

Further ahead, Rose led the way with a commanding presence. His lean figure filled his chosen armor, adorned with intricate embellishments, to perfection, a testament to his distinct taste in design. Flanking him were his squire and minstrel, ready to assist their lord in whatever capacity was required.

Garnet stood already by the gate, donned in his armor. The elderly lord's voice resounded like thunder as he scolded his squire with bare hands, frustrated by the delivery of the wrong set of gloves.

Nearby, Scarlet, efficiently secured his belongings to his horse, his diminutive squire patiently holding a pile of supplies as he awaited his lord's instructions.

Rhodon, watching Scarlet's actions dismissively from a close distance, mounted his horse. He remained the sole noble lord who had chosen not to have a squire, a decision that set him apart in the assembly.

In the midst of it all, Auburn found himself positioned at the center, drawing the fascination of the young lords. They each vied for his attention, regaling him with tales of valor and offering remarks in a bid to capture his interest.

Ameth gazed into the distance, discerning two riders who steadily drew nearer. One of them bore a flag banner of a shade resembling reddish-brown. As the riders approached, it became apparent that the older gentleman astride his horse was Lord Rufous. His mature squire rode alongside him, and they approached the camp with a sense of purpose, their horses galloping.

Upon their arrival, Lord Rufous, his presence commanding respect, addressed Ameth.

"Lord Amethyst," he began, "allow me to present my steadfast squire, Sir Russet."

Ameth, his curiosity piqued by the unusual name, couldn't help but express his surprise.

"Russet?" he said, his voice laced with genuine curiosity. "You've taken a nobleman as your squire?"

Lord Rufous, with a hint of mystery in his gaze, replied vaguely, alluding to the close bond between him and his squire and the shared experiences they had accumulated over the years.

"Indeed, my lord," he said, "our histories are intertwined, as are our loyalties. House Rufous stands ready to withstand any challenge that may come its way."

Ameth, acknowledging the wisdom and experience that seemed to emanate from the silent squire, offered a respectful nod.

"Greetings," he said warmly, extending a gesture of goodwill. "I thank House Rufous for their unwavering commitment to our country, even in its most trying moments."

With a genuine and heartfelt expression, Ameth turned to Lord Rufous.

"My lord," he began, his voice filled with sympathy, "please accept my deepest condolences on the recent loss of your dear wife. May she find eternal peace, and may your family find solace in these difficult times."

The grieving lord, his weathered face touched by a hint of gratitude, nodded in appreciation.

Their discussion was abruptly interrupted by the voice of Aster calling out to Ameth.

"My lord," he hissed from the back, vying for his attention.

In the distance, two more riders gradually approached the gathering. One of them soon revealed himself to be none other than Carmine, accompanied by his imposing squire.

Carmine's delayed arrival, however, defied convention not solely due to its lateness. While the other lords were clad in the traditional steel armor and helmets, Carmine moved on his horse with an air of elegance, adorned in intricately decorated leather armor. Adorning his shoulders were the ranks of a Lieutenant, marking his distinguished position among the noble ranks.

But what truly set him apart was his helm, an absolute spectacle. A wide-brimmed hat arched gracefully to one side above his brow. The hat's top featured a striking bird's feather that danced in the breeze, giving his attire a touch of grandeur. It was a unique headpiece, in keeping with the fashionable style of the era, suited for a noble with a taste for flair.

The sight of Carmine's unique outfit stirred laughter and jests from the other lords, who couldn't resist remarking on his distinctive appearance. Their voices carried a mocking tone as they bantered about his unconventional attire.

"I suppose he's trying to charm the enemy with that helmet!" one lord quipped, prompting another to jest, "It took him so long to make sure the feathers were just right, no wonder he's late!"

Carmine, however, remained unruffled by their comments, maintaining an air of indifference. With a faint smile, he continued his approach with a nonchalant stride towards Ameth's direction, seemingly undisturbed by their playful tease.

Ameth, noticing his apparent lighthearted mood, felt a sense of unease wash over him.

Carmine finally drew close enough to meet with Ameth, locking eyes with him. His demeanor remained cordial, and his voice carried the weight of their shared noble heritage.

"Amethyst," he began with a respectful nod, "you and I have not always found ourselves in accord. Yet, there comes a moment when we, as noble lords of the great nation of Roseland, must transcend beyond our personal disputes."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing,

"Let us swear here and now, upon this hallowed ground of our forefathers and with the unwavering sky as our witness," he grasped the reins of his horse as it stepped in place, "that we shall set aside our differences. This, we do for the greater good and the success of the mission that lies ahead."

Ameth hesitated briefly, his unswerving sense of duty to the realm apparent as he pondered Carmine's words. After a thoughtful moment, he responded,

"For the King and the glory of Roseland, I hereby accept your pledge," his words resounding with a profound sense of duty and honor.

Carmine, demonstrating humility, spoke with a touch of uncertainty, his eyes firmly fixed on Ameth's, as if seeking validation.

"I assume you intended for me to command the rear guard?"

However, Ameth promptly corrected him with a firm tone, his words bearing the authority of his rank,

"No, Carmine. You shall serve by my side in this endeavor."

Carmine acknowledged the decision with a respectful nod, his expression reflecting his recognition of Ameth's authority. He then suggested,

"Shall I proceed to gather our forces and arrange them in formation, Captain?"

Without awaiting Ameth's explicit command, he turned to his squire, a burly man with formidable stature, and spoke,

"Come, Blaze, we have an important task awaiting us."

With that, he rode forth toward the assembled force, his squire briefly casting a glance in Ameth's direction before following his lord's lead.

Ameth, taken aback by Carmine's behavior, couldn't help but remark,

"He has never addressed me by my gemstone name before."

His tone held a mix of surprise and curiosity as he watched Carmine from afar, feverishly calling out orders and expertly organizing the assembled force.

Lord Rufous, seated on his horse nearby, added with a skeptical tone,

"This is Lord Cornelian's son. I remember him well, you know. A troublesome child if there ever was one. Always had a mind of his own. You were wise to keep him close at your side."

His weathered face bore the marks of a man who had seen many seasons, and his eyes carried a hint of suspicion as he reminisced about Carmine's younger days.

Ameth, his chest adorned with the insignia of his emblem, observed as Carmine skillfully organized the assembled troops. With the force now arranged into precise units and forming a half-square shape, Lieutenant Ibis and his experienced sergeants ensured that each soldier stood in perfect order.

Mounted on his majestic steed, Ameth moved with regal grace into the heart of the formation. His presence commanded attention, and he began addressing the gathered warriors.

"Men of Roseland," his voice rang out, its solemnity matching the weight of their impending mission.

"Today, we stand here not as common folk and nobles, but as brothers bound by a common purpose. Our mission is not merely a task but a sacred duty, one that may hold the key to ending the strife that has plagued our land for generations. With unity and unwavering resolve, we embark on this path, knowing that the lives of many depend on our success."

He continued, his gaze sweeping over the assembled troops, each face marked with determination.

"The Verdanian conflict has taken too many of our kin and left our land scarred. But today, we have the chance to make a difference! To bring about a new era of peace and prosperity for Roseland. I ask you to remember our purpose, to fight not for glory, but for the greater good! Together, we can accomplish what others thought impossible!"

Ameth's inspirational words resonated through the ranks, instilling a sense of purpose and determination in the hearts of his soldiers. As he concluded, he turned his steed around, setting himself at the forefront of the formation. With a powerful and determined stride, he led the troops forward, the rhythmic sound of hooves and marching boots signaling the commencement of their vital quest.