“You’re not coming with us,” Minerva said to Leon, almost petrifying the young man with confusion, frustration, and surprise.

“Huh…?” Leon asked, unable to form any more coherent words.

The two were surrounded by thousands of knights all gearing up for war. The forces from the capital had arrived at the entrance to the Eastern Territories, and they were heading out to reinforce Roland and the newly-returned Brimstone. They would leave in two groups, with those who possessed mounts riding ahead of those who did not. Leon fully expected to be in that group, riding Anzu at Minerva’s side.

“Don’t worry, boy, you’re not staying here,” Minerva replied as she made a few adjustments to her horse after her assistants finished readying the rest of her gear. She was clad head-to-toe in red armor so dark that it seemed black in the early evening. Emblazoned upon her chest was the personal crest of Prince Trajan, a charging bull on a field of red, rather than the Royal green.

“What should I be doing, then?” Leon asked.

“I’m sending you south. We have to prevent those southerly forces from reaching Ironford. Delay them as much as you can, we’ll get reinforcements to you as soon as we can, but there’s no guarantee that it will be in good time. We have to focus on the bigger threat. But Octavius’ people cannot reach Ironford! Understand?”

“I understand, but surely you don’t expect me to accomplish this alone, do you?”

“I’ll give you two hundred people. It’s not nearly enough to stop an army, so don’t try. Just harass them, keep them from moving too quickly through the lands between Ironford and the Royal demesne. We might get surrounded in the pass, but they’ll be stuck between you, us, and the walls of Ironford. That wouldn’t be ideal, of course, but focus only on doing what you can.”

“I… I think I can handle that…” Leon had to fight not to smile. It had been since his time at Fort 127 that he’d commanded more than a single squad of people—and even then, that position hadn’t been an official assignment—and he was anticipating it with a mix of eagerness and dread, unsure of whether or not he would be able to do what had been asked of him.

It was a terrible responsibility since the situation didn’t have to be explained to him. If Octavius’ forces reached and took Ironford, they’d lose. If they trapped Minerva, Roland, and Brimstone between them in the pass, they would lose. And they would be able to do both if Leon failed to slow them down before the reinforcements Minerva had sent for reached Ironford.

Holding Ironford was critical, and he was going to be a key component in August’s forces doing just that.

“Got any idea of when reinforcements might come my way?” Leon asked.

“As I said, we have to focus on the army on our doorstep,” Minerva explained. “The 3rd Legion will reinforce the pass, first. The 7th Legion is probably between five and eight days out, though. They’ll be coming to you, so you only need to hold that long on your own.”

“Got it.”

“Good. You’ll do fine, Ursus. You’ve got this. Prince Trajan had faith in your abilities, and so do I. You can do this.”

Leon nodded, not knowing how to respond to Minerva’s confidence, or even if it was genuine. They had no idea how many of their enemies they were facing, and if they were more than a couple of battalions, a mere two hundred knights were going to be incredibly hard-pressed to stop them. He eventually settled on nodding to her in solidarity and saying, “I look forward to meeting you again when we can bring each other word of victory.”

Despite the seriousness of their situation, Minerva almost laughed at Leon’s overly formal and honestly rather stilted response. Still, she appreciated the sentiment, smiled at him with far more warmth than she had in the past few weeks, and then spurred her horse on. Most of the rest of the knights followed her, with the vast majority of the retinue at her back and a thousand Ironford knights joining them.

Leon was left in the city’s staging grounds with the two hundred knights that Minerva had left behind, along with his own followers, Valeria, Anzu, and Lapis. Most of those left behind were in the lower-tiers of Trajan’s retinue—essentially a mix of third to fourth-tier mages, with only about twenty fifth-tier mages and not a single sixth-tier. However, as Leon was quickly evaluating the force he had at his disposal, he noticed a pair of familiar auras pushing themselves toward the front of the group.

Sure enough, Leon saw the faces of Alix and Adalgrim.

“Sir!” Alix immediately said, giving Leon a perfectly formal greeting, though the light in her eyes and the smile tugging at her lips suggested a significantly greater degree of joy than she was exhibiting.

Grim, on the other hand, wasn’t so reserved, clapping Leon on the shoulder with a friendly smile and said, “It’s good to see you again, Ursus! It’s been too long!”

“Good to see you, too, Sir Grim,” Leon replied as he returned Grim and Alix’s smiles. He and Alix then shared a quick clasp of the wrist, and then they were down to business. “What are we looking at regarding our organization? Do you have the highest seniority here?”

“I do,” Grim replied. All of the fifth-tier knights had the same technical rank of Tribune, which made Grim, as the oldest and most experienced of them, Leon’s de facto second-in-command.

“Sir Leon, I’ve also been instructed to inform you that Dame Minerva would like to formally transfer me into your retinue,” Alix added.

Leon raised an eyebrow at his former squire, silently asking what she thought about it. To his mild surprise, though, Alix showed no sign of reluctance or antipathy. Leon knew that he hadn’t been the best mentor—and, in fact, had been pretty neglectful if he were to be honest with himself—but he was gratified to see that she didn’t seem upset at all.

“I’d be more than happy to accept you into my retinue,” he replied, and a glowing smile finally broke through Alix’s tightly controlled expression.

“Yes, Sir!” she happily said.

“We’ll work out the details later, but for now, we need to deal with these bastards to the south,” Leon continued, shifting his focus back to the mildly-amused Grim. “What kind of intel do we have on our opponent?”

“Not much, perhaps a Legion’s worth of noble knights and mercenaries, maybe even more than that. We really have no idea, and probably won’t until we do some recon.”

“How about maps? Guides? What do we know about the terrain?”

“We can get maps and guides likely won’t be hard to find. We have the support of Marquis Herrenia, and nearly all of the nobles who own land to the south are his vassals. They know the land and will likely commit some people to our cause.”

“What are your expectations in that regard?”

“Not high. They are mostly Barons with a single small castle to their name and weak Counts with little more than a hundred or so knights they can call upon. Still, there are a significant number of them, and if we had to, we could probably wrangle together an additional thousand or so knights and maybe just as many men-at-arms. If we were lucky. Which we probably won’t be. Most of those guys will probably just let this army pass without challenge if they can if only to avoid being destroyed by them.”

Leon nodded in understanding and closed his eyes for a moment to think. He had a few ideas of what to do to slow this army down, but he wouldn’t be able to decide on anything without seeing the region for himself.

“Let’s make sure everyone has bows and arrows,” he said after a few long moments of thought. If he could only count on his two hundred, then he wasn’t going to take any chances with direct confrontations. They’d fight at range, and only on their terms.

If they were to accomplish their mission, then there was no other way they’d be able to fight.

—

He should’ve been happy to finally get out of the capital. For more than a year, he’d been kept away in a tiny corner of the Royal Palace doing nothing but busy work, even as the political situation fell apart, but at least he was away from Octavius and Earthshaker. Getting out of the capital had been just about all he could think about during that time, wondering when exactly a good time would be to try and resign and go home to Lentia.

Of course, he knew he’d never be able to leave no matter how much he fantasized about it. He was a hostage in all but name, kept to ensure his father and older brother’s loyalty. In that respect, Gaius never expected to be allowed out of the palace, so it came as a genuine surprise when his small unit in Octavius’ retinue was reassigned to the army pursuing August.

‘Does His Highness even know I was sent out?’ Gaius couldn’t help but wonder. He didn’t think so, but if Octavius did know that Gaius was being put in danger, Gaius couldn’t say if the Prince would care or not—and this was after Gaius had served the Prince for two years as his squire. After those two years had been completed, Gaius had been summarily transferred far and away from anything of any importance—at least, until now.

Now, he had been dispatched to assist a force of about fifteen thousand nobles and their retinues of knights, squires, and men-at-arms to hunt down the traitor August and his supporters.

Gaius couldn’t help but note that Leon was included in that, and he didn’t know how he felt about it. On one hand, the part of him that remembered his humiliation at Leon’s hands was ecstatic, but on the other, his shame made him never want to see Leon ever again. Even as he pondered these things, Gaius let out an uncontrollable sigh of regret. Had he the option to go back in time, he’d have done many things differently.

‘Perhaps if I had been less of an arrogant prick then Valeria wouldn’t have turned me down so many times…’ he thought to himself. The flame he carried for Valeria still burned brightly, even if it had cooled a bit after the two had separated for their squireships.

Gaius forced himself to think of other things. If he allowed Valeria to enter his mind, then he would always think of Leon and his other shames and failures. He wanted to stay positive, especially in his current situation.

In that vein, he looked around and took in the scenery. The past three days had been a hellish march; it started with a terribly hurried deployment from the capital along with the Count of Tarsus and then marching fifty to sixty miles every day. Even for his third-tier body, Gaius could feel the ache in his bones and muscles. Those weaker than him were being pushed to their limits to move so quickly, while those stronger than him barely noticed the grueling pace.

“Doing all right, Lord Tullius?” the Count of Tarsus asked him, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Gaius glanced at his riding companion, the man who was leading the joint army of nobles and their retainers. The Count was a middle-aged man, possessed of fifth-tier strength, and in general, had a relatively cheery attitude. He was the richest man in the Central Territories outside of the Royal Family, and he wore much of his wealth in his armor, which was heavy plate inlaid with gold and covered in runes. Gaius hadn’t the skill to see through the enchantments that ostentatiously glowed on the Count’s armor, but he knew that they were powerful and definitely not just for show.

The Count had insisted that Gaius ride alongside him for the journey and went so far as to tell his command staff that Gaius was to be regarded as his second-in-command. The older knights, and especially the knight that Gaius otherwise answered to when he was back in the capital, were not thrilled with this, but Gaius was forced to accept. It was more than likely the Count trying to curry some favor with the relative of a powerful Duke—Gaius’ father—and so he didn’t take the position that was forced upon him too seriously. The Count wasn’t a terribly fit man for someone of his power, and he had the attitude of one who wouldn’t fight on the front lines, so Gaius hadn’t the expectation that he would ever need to exercise the authority that the Count gave him.

“I’m doing fine, My Lord,” Gaius answered, giving the Count a reassuring smile.

“Wonderful to hear, you were staring off into space so intently that I felt I had to ask,” Tarsus said before giving Gaius a loud full-bellied laugh.

“I appreciate the concern,” Gaius neutrally responded. He wasn’t too interested in conversation with Tarsus but keeping in mind the rules of etiquette and politeness, he couldn’t simply ignore the Count.

Tarsus began to loudly discuss how quickly they were going to defeat August and drag him back to the capital, as well as other things that Gaius completely tuned out. He was sure the Count was speaking about Octavius, but Gaius couldn’t bring himself to care, not after seeing to the Prince’s whims for two years. He just wanted to get this done with as much of honor intact as possible and for all of this to just be over, but no matter how much Tarsus bragged about the ferocity and power of his knights, Gaius couldn’t help but feel deeply unsettled.

Perhaps it was the resemblance that the region had to the training grounds of the Knight Academy, with its sheer cliffs, deep forests, valleys, and mountains, but Gaius felt more and more apprehensive the further east they marched. The last time he’d fought Leon had been under similar circumstances, with his Deathbringers and a couple of other Knight Academy units banding together to bring down his Snow Lions.

The numbers were significantly more skewed in Gaius’ favor this time, though, but he doubted that Leon—or anyone else under August’s wing, for that matter—would simply give up. Gaius had seen first-hand what Leon could do, and that was three tiers and three years ago.

They no longer bore training weapons, and Gaius dreaded seeing what his old one-sided nemesis could now do. If possible, he did not want to face Leon on this expedition.