Time passes, as is its wont. The war slowed to a crawl after the taking of the Keep in the Wald. The Vallarese stopped meeting the invaders in pitched battles after their third loss in the first year. Despite their deep coffers and excellent mercenaries, Duke Felix proved to be too much the strategist for them and in time they resorted to staying behind the locked gates of their well provisioned and high walled cities. Sir Clement lay siege to one and Ser Eva, now a decorated commander in her own right, prosecuted another. All the while Felix orchestrated the training and rearming of rotating companies and kept his eye on the politics of the Imperial Court.

With less troops meeting them in the field, seasons changed and with them, the young men grew into their own. As the days passed Sir Edward’s twentieth birthday, a very different man greeted the world to the one who had knelt before the Emperor and been knighted for his first kill in combat. When Edward first greeted the day, walking to the tilt yard where he would begin his morning training, he cut a dashing, even heroic figure. Standing at six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, he was recognizable from a great distance as he stood above all but a few men within his company, with hair of woven gold that one poet had compared to rays of sunshine, surmounting sharp emeralds for eyes that some pages gossiped looked into a man’s soul.

The captain wore only maille over his arming cote for these morning training sessions, except on every fifth day when he would wear his whole harness, just to stay in shape he told himself. The truth of it was that increasingly, there were fewer and fewer men of the company who could match him sword to sword, so there was little point to wearing all of his clank, except when he practiced with his poleaxe. Despite this, he had not fought with intent since the taking of the keep in which he now resided, instead directing men and training continuously. Four years of this routine had taught him many things, chief of which was that he needed a real fight, and soon.

Even if Sir Edward had not fought, his company had. The Wald was never silent and the enemy had sent many smaller companies of mercenaries into its eaves to harass the Imperial army, and in turn Edward’s company patrolled and fought them off. Dozens of skirmishes had been fought on an almost weekly basis, and that wasn’t even counting the countless bands of unaffiliated brigands who called the ancient forest home. Despite this the road remained safe, and the patrols of his company kept supply and communication lines open and running.

The Keep’s courtyard rang with the sound of swords striking pells, and the hammer and forge of the small smithy that catered to their repairs. The occasional shouts of “well struck!” were the music of a particularly martial temple and Sir Edward smiled in his easy way to the men who trained alongside him. He had spent the morning working on gardes and forms with his youngest squire; William, while Murk rode on patrol with Sir Thomas. They’d been at it for two hours when he finally raised a hand for a halt and allowed William to fetch water and catch his breath. No longer a half starved stripling of thirteen, William himself had continued to grow and fill out his shoulders over the years and while he would never be the titan his knight was, he was tall enough to turn the heads of a few village girls who came by the Keep on market days. Edward watched his squire move with pride, he was turning into the kind of squire that knights dream of, with a quick mind and a developing mastery of sword play, which told Edward that he would probably have to knight the boy soon, even as he had the thought he realised that with Murk only weeks away from being knighted himself, he’d need to start looking for a new squire soon.

A stirring at the gate drew his eye as a giant on an elephantine horse rode in and slipped from the saddle with the grace of a master horseman. The long red hair and flowing beard were at odds with the fine, and highly fashionable riding clothes the man wore, barbarity to civilisation in a single body. Sir Edward grinned even broader as he recognised the man and quickly strode through the yard to greet his friend, his voice pitched to carry across a battlefield was enough to be heard from the gate, “Bjorn!”

The giant turned at the sound of his voice and matched Edward’s grin, “that’s Sir Bjorn to you!” He laughed and clapped Edward in an embrace that threatened even his robust frame, if Edward could be considered a titan on the battlefield then there were no words to accurately describe the Norglander who had to be pushing seven feet now that he had reached his full growth. Still Sir Edward slapped him on the back before holding him out at arm’s length and taking in the matched golden belt and spurs.

“Well bugger me sideways, a knight at last,” he laughed to take the sting out of the words, Bjorn having been the last of their litter of company squires to make the grade, “I congratulate you my friend, it is a well deserved honour.” Bjorn smiled in answer, for who wouldn’t love praise from a brother, “will you dine with me this evening?” Servants were already seeing to Bjorn’s horse and having it stabled and curried.

“Afraid I can’t, just giving my horse a rest before I move on, I’ll be out of your hair in a couple hours, I have messages for you however,” Bjorn leaned close to whisper to his friend, “his grace has been slowing the war down on purpose, but he’s decided it’s time to add a few logs on the fire,” Edward’s brow rose quizzically and Bjorn snorted, “the Emperor is sick, and Sir Felix wants to make sure the von Rabsburgs are the clear choice for the throne when he goes,” Bjorn explained as though he was talking to a child. Sir Edward saw it all open for him in an instant, the conflicting loyalties and the danger of the situation that was the Imperial Court in an election year.

“That’s going to get messy,” he muttered just loud enough for Bjorn to hear.

“Yes it is, but your orders are to assemble a relief column of fifty lances and join Sir Clement, his siege needs to be wrapped up before winter hits,” he handed an ivory scroll tube to Sir Edward along with a letter of folded vellum, “we also received this letter from your Grandfather, you’re summoned back to Arturia, his grace says he’ll sign passports for both yourself and Sir Clement once the siege is concluded,” Sir Edward nodded again in response as he took both.

“Was only a matter of time, at least Imperial politics don’t directly involve me,” he said with a mirthless chuckle, Edward gave a sharp whistle and waved William over to him, “see that Sir Bjorn is fed and has a bunk to rest, then let the officers know that I will be having a general call meeting this evening over dinner,” he smiled as he saw his serious faced young squire take it all in, even if there was barely three years between them, he had grown attached to the boy and he gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “maybe let it slip in the barracks that we’re going to be getting ready to ride,” mentally checking his list of what he needed to do Edward looked at Bjorn, “will there be a relieving garrison coming to take over?”

“Sir Felix already sent for twenty lances from Schwarzberg, you’re still the commander here,” Edward nodded before stripping his sword belt and handing it to his page Cuthbert.

“Alright good, I have lessons to attend but I will try to come and say goodbye before you leave,” his eyes met Cuthbert’s and the boy dropped his own to the ground in fear, “how old are you now Cuthbert?” Edward asked with some of his earlier concerns coming back to the fore.

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“Fourteen my lord,” the boy managed with barely a quaver in his tone.

“Good to know,” the captain moved on with a last nod to his friend before jogging towards the keep’s entrance, “make sure that sword is oiled boy.” Bjorn laughed out loud as Edward disappeared through the doors.

“He wasn’t quite so high and mighty when we was squires,” he chucked the page on his shoulder, “best be off with you now, I can find a hay stack to sleep in.”

In one of the darker back rooms of the Keep a woman worked on a large pentagram that covered the entirety of the floor and was surrounded by dozens of expensive candles in bronze sconces. At her back a large scaled form lay draped against the wall, and as Edward entered the long neck rose to regard him with one large reptilian eye. He immediately ignored the woman in favour of the young dragon, who in four years had come to be the size of a large horse, he ran a hand along the underside of his jaw and neck and pressed his forehead to the scaled ridge above his eyes, “and how are you today my friend?”

The dragon chuffed and a small puff of smoke escaped his jaws, “you know I wouldn’t mind a greeting like that either,” the woman spoke from his right with a hand on her hip and a definite imp in her smile. Sir Edward turned and bowed low to her.

“Forgive me Lady Maria, I needed time to find appropriate words to best honour your beauty,” Edward said, his voice all but dripping with sarcasm, which earned him a very attractive, throaty laugh that echoed off the stone walls of their practice room.

“You rogue,” she fired back. The Lady Maria de Roosebeke commanded respect in any room she entered, and yet she did not simper or demure as the ladies of many courts would. She was tall with shoulders like a man, but with a deep breasted and full hipped figure that commanded the attention of every noble sprig to ever tread the halls of the Arturian Court, yet still she had never married and at the age of thirty-five seemed destined to never do so. She ruled a fief in Bordeaux by writ of Edward’s grandfather, Duke Eric, and was one of the foremost Magisters in Arturia. Edward had been smitten from the moment he had met her, and while she would occasionally come to his bed, there was none of the warmth he had felt from the times Davide had shared his blankets. She liked her young charge well enough, but she was too comfortable in her own power to ever run off after a third son half her age, and so he was content to merely be her sport.

“Now, if what I have heard from outside is true, you’ll be leaving soon, which means it’s time for me to return to Arturia,” her voice had lost the imp of mirth and she was once again his teacher, “you’ve done well to build your foundation,” She told him as she sat on the northern point of the pentagram, just as Edward found his seat on the southern, “your Plane is strong and with Ritter’s help you can now connect it to the outside world,” Edward sank into his meditation as he drew in the energies of the earth and heavens within himself, opening himself to the world as the mystics called it.

He entered his Plane, a pocket dimension that acted as the passage through which the ethereal connected to the real. Each was different for every magister who was able to commune with a familiar and Edward knew that his was unique in turn. He sat upon a mountain with a flat peak, a mountain he had never seen in his life and yet felt as much like home to him as Bordeaux. It was a tall finger of gray stone that looked as though some god had used it as a pell and been cut clean through with a great blade. He sat at its centre, carving a pentagram into the surface with the energy of the heavens. He willed the energy to flow along the lines he made, even as he drew the current of earthly energy up through the mountain to combine within the runic lines, earthy browns and vibrant golds mixing almost effortlessly into the power that all magisters used.

Lady Maria appeared before him, after four years she had almost perfect access to his Plane and it took barely a thought to allow her entry, she watched silently as he continued to draw the energies into himself and combined them within his pentagram, her face still held the same wonder it had when he had first accomplished the feat after six months of their working together. He had been a slow student to start with, having never trained his mind in this way before it had taken time to build his Plane and find his connection. His dragon, whom he had named Ritter, the Imperial word for Knight, flew about the mountain within this mindscape.

Maria continued to watch until Edward opened his eyes and stood upon the mountain, looking out into the vast expanse of his Plane, watching the great forest that surrounded the mountain flow on and on until it disappeared into a black fog, “you have come late to your power Edward, but it is impressive, I can count on one hand the number of people who can gather so much mah’na so efficiently,” she looked around the mountain and almost scoffed, “and yet you only know three runes and channel most of it directly into your body like an eastern cultivator.” Edward smiled at her.

“I’m a knight, not a magister at the end of the day my lady,” he informed her, “channelling it into my body allows me to have reserves of stamina that will keep me in a fight and save lives, I truly thank you for your teachings, but this is the path I have chosen,” he told her, even as he directed some of the newly merged energy that they called mah’na into his feet so that it would climb through his body, purging any toxins it found and strengthening the muscle it found. It wouldn’t make him inhumanly strong, at least not yet, and any well trained athlete could match him in terms of strength and speed, where the advantage lay and the reason he had trained himself so ruthlessly over the years, was that in times of need he could draw on the power to grant him longer lasting stamina, allowing him to fight on when exhaustion should have claimed him. With his current reserves, although they had not been fully tested, he should be able to fight at full strength for almost a week before he would need to sleep and recover, a well trained man who can continue the fight was often the margin between victory and defeat, and Edward never wanted a fight to be as close as the duel that had won him the Keep.

With a sigh, Edward opened his eyes in the real once more and rose to his feet, he had heard the footsteps rushing through the hallways towards him and knew that his lessons were at an end. He rose and bowed once more to Lady Maria, turning her hand and daringly kissed her palm, “I am forever in your debt my lady, should you need anything of me, you need only ask,” he tried his best to sound dashing and he knew he had hit the right note when he saw the flush run up her neck and cheeks.

“Perhaps I’ll ask something of you this evening my lord, but for now I believe you have a message,” she smirked and with a wave of her hand the door to their lesson room opened and a flustered man in a battered coat of plates came to a halt, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Sir Edward moved to the man’s elbow and helped him stay standing.

“Apologies lord, I came as fast as I could but I may be too late,” the messenger managed as he gasped in lungfuls, “Sir Thomas’ patrol caught what we thought were brigands and sought to engage quickly, but my lord what we caught was the vanguard, Sir Thomas requests the quarter guard and any available men ride to relieve them as soon as possible,” he wiped his sweat streaked face on a rag from his belt as he watched sir Edward’s eyes widen, “my lord, there have already been casualties.”

Edward did not wait, he was already sprinting for the courtyard, screaming as loud as his throat could bear, “Alarme!” His cry was clearly heard as the courtyard devolved in to a flurry of activity as the quarter guard found their horses and more men were rushed into their harness. Edward arrived to find William and Cuthbert waiting with his harness already laid out on oiled sheepskins, and steel fairly flew onto his body with both boys working, Sir Bjorn and Ser Guillaume were armed and running to him as soon as his left cuisse was seated comfortably.

“Sir Thomas is in trouble, by the sounds of it they caught a tiger by the tail and didn’t realise how many men there were, as soon as I’m in harness and mounted we’re riding, anyone not ready will be left behind, I want at least twenty lances fit to ride, understood?” His voice never broke on the order and ser Guillaume nodded before sprinting to his next job, Bjorn met his friend’s eye.

“Lucky I brought my harness,” he said.