I was not sure whether it was my unscarred face, the difference in our musculature, or the difference in our souls, but Aloree knew right away. I was not Velwin, whom she had married. I was his brother Veldin, with his memories up until he had left on his mission, and nothing more than his recorded dying words, describing and showing the image of his bride and asking my aid in rescuing her after his death.

She wrapped her arms around herself and cried. Had she held out hope for his survival until she saw me? She walked back to her camp, tears streaming down her face, as I ran to join her.

She accepted my handkerchief, dried her eyes, and blew her nose. My arms she pushed away, saying "You are not he. Let me grieve."

I sat mutely while she sniffled and composed herself. She fetched a sword from under a blanket and handed it to me. It was my sword Swelfalster, and I replaced the sword in my scabbard with it.

I finally broke the silence. "Velwin's last thoughts were of you. His last words were 'I love you, Aloree.' You are every bit as beautiful as he remembered." This last I added because I knew complimenting a girl's beauty always cheered her up, and also because it was true.

Aloree gave a shy smile at this. Her eyes were still red, but they seemed to twinkle a little. "What now?" she asked. I remembered the directness from her and Velwin's escape, and knew she was in her serious mode.

We made our plans, packed up the camp, and made our way back through the forest to my horses, chariot, and retainers. I blew a horn to summon back all searchers. Aloree took some time to befriend the horses and boarded my chariot. I mounted a spare horse, my musculature finally developed enough to ride some hours, and we set off for Tarmel, riding hard until the sun drooped low in the sky. We made our camp in a clearing near a stream, tied and corralled the horses, and bedded down for the night.

It was after we made camp the first night that they struck. Had they bided their time while we entered deeper into their territory, or did we have a richer prize now than before? Whatever the reason, the night's watch gave the alarm shortly after the rest of us had fallen asleep, followed by a sharp whinny of pain from a horse, which had been struck by a crossbow bolt.

I was up seconds later, shield and spear in hand, sword in sheath, unlaced cuirass hastily thrown over my leathers, helmet on my head. The tied horses milled and stamped in panic, and I hoped none would injure us, or each other.

As I ran shield in hand to join the watchman, more horses squealed and groaned as they were hit. The enemy's strategy was clear: cripple us by taking out our horses, then deal with our warriors last. The men formed up with us, a line of shields and spears with archers in our wake. We pointed our shields at the direction the arrows had come from, and broke into a run.

I took the tip of the spear, leading the charge as we set out to fight our attackers. Another volley of crossbow bolts whizzed through the air, this time striking our shields, not our horses. Now the enemy was alarmed, and now I saw them in the moonlight. I called a halt and fire.

We spearmen stood, ducked behind overlapped shields. The archers behind us drew and fired. More bolts bounced from our shields, and we heard satisfying shrieks of pain from in front of us as our arrows smote home. We returned to a run, halted and fired one more time, then ran once more into our opponents, spears and shields before us. They were equipped crossbow and pike, ready for a cavalry charge, but not for what they faced. They began to break and run, and we ran some down and shot a few more as they were put to flight.

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None surrendered. None lived long enough to question much. We stripped the dead of their armor and weapons, and from their regalia, knew we had faced a small party of the Black Legion. I reflected on their kit, designed specifically to take out the fast-moving cavaliers Tarmel had sent in as her vanguard, and prayed we could retool fast enough.

We returned to the camp. At the all-clear, Aloree emerged from ducking down in her tent and gasped at the bleeding horses. By the light of Aloree's glowing orb, we removed the crossbow bolts and dressed the wounds. Aloree used her healing magic on those we could save. One horse did not make it, struck as it was through the heart.

We set out once more as morning came, riding through the day. I swapped with Aloree for time in the chariot, she riding horse two hours at a time to my four, as we both redeveloped our horse muscles. Aloree had woken up with puffy red eyes, and said very few words. We carefully set camp in a location we thought well-defensible, but no attack came that night. We continued onward, and returned to Tarmel without further incident.

We returned to my father's court at Tarmel. Aloree bought clothes of widow's black and dressed befitting being in mourning. She took up a post as ambassador of Talore, dealt mostly with my father, his ministers, and her own kingdom's citizens, and requested to see me as little as possible--I reminded her too much of her dead husband, and brought on nights of weeping upon her gaze.

Melnin, my father, counseled me to forget her for the time being. Her mourning would be long, and there were many good matches available for a Crown Prince. I met with some of these in the evenings, at balls and formal dinners, and never felt the spark Velwin had felt with Aloree. I reflected that not everyone can save the life of a princess in disguise, bleed out, and be healed by her magic, and resolved to resign myself to my fate... but not yet.

During the day I trained. I drilled my muscles in combat. I trained in all the arts of combat expected of a prince, re-applying myself to archery and horseback riding, but most of all training to fight in formation as part of the infantry, training to fight spear and shield, sword and shield, and drilling the unit I would command.

These times did not call for a spy, a prince in disguise like Velwin. These times called for warriors. The Black Citadel, their base of magitech production and defensive capstone, had fallen, but the remnants of the Black Legion based around it still polluted our nearby land, still posed a threat that could metastasize into another invincible citadel given time. Aloree coordinated with my father on sweeping this threat out of the land, and soon, the infantry of Talore marched towards the Black Citadel just as that of Tarmel did.

As we swept through the region formerly controlled by the Citadel, the Black Legion fell back. Town after town thanked us for driving them out as we approached the former grounds of the Citadel, around whose ruins their forces were still at their zenith. We met the infantry forces from Talore, and I was delighted to see among them some faces from the images in the recording of Velwin's dying words: Lordan, surly as ever. Canmar, leading their archers. Jom and Pol, still trading jibes and plying their swordcraft. They called me Vel and treated me as an old friend, and I didn't have the heart to tell them I wasn't the same man who had travelled with them.

The ruins of the Citadel were where the Black Legion chose to make their stand. As dawn approached, our forces drew up their battle lines, archers defended by spearmen and shields, cavaliers behind us ready to charge. With the rising of the sun, battle would be joined. Soon, I hoped to erase this evil from our lands forever.