Morning had come quickly for Ares who slept like a log. Gantal had awoken him for his watch as she went to go and finish her sleep. Ares looked out into the distance, keeping his eyes peered onto the horizon. He could see a little bit of smoke in the distance, no doubt the enemies camp. There were quite a few of them, though he had no idea how many would come to him.

Breakfast was offered to him, a hearty meal of soup. The other soldiers, and his Marching Blades, had a fair meal as well, though Ares was offered an entire leg of oxen. Ares cut into it and then forced the Marching Blades to accept it. “You will need your strength when it comes to defending these people, behind you will stand the Consul and Torak-kin. It won’t do that you lose your strength mid-battle because you are trying to be respectful.” Ares grumbled as the others ate. The rest of the leg he offered to the archers, who graciously accepted. Ares did not eat yet, he went to go and train for a little while, some of his soldiers joining him.

There was shouting when he returned and he could see that an archer and a Marching Blade were in some kind of heated argument. Ares walked over to Gantal. “What’s the issue?”

“Omata and the archer are from rivalling tribes. They recognised one another and there seems to be bad blood with one another.”

Ares watched as Omata argued with the archer and after a moment, he stepped forward. “Marching Blades! Salute your King!” He exclaimed and the soldiers saluted him, including Omata.

Ares walked over to Omata, passed the archer until the pair of them were face to face, their noses almost touching as Ares glared into Omata’s eyes. “Is there a problem, soldier.”

“This one, Ilton, brings great dishonour to my clan with his words.”

“Oh? He does? What does he say about our clan?”

Omata remained silent, confusion in his eyes. Then his eyes settled and stared back into Ares’ eyes. “It is no issue, Ares-kin, he does not speak ill of us.”

“Then who is he speaking ill of?”

Omata remained silent once more. “I mistook his words, he does not speak ill of any of our kin, I have made a mistake…” Omata admitted as his voice quietened.

Ares took a step back. “Is this true?” He asked the archer as he turned to face them.

“No, it’s not. I do speak ill of his clan, he and his grass munchers, any and all of his people, nothing but a bunch of grass munchers.”

“I ask of you, Ilton, what has my Rivean done to you?”

“Rivean?” The archer asked.

“You are speaking ill of all Riveans, I wish to know, since I am their King.”

“King?” Ilton narrowed their eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You said that he and all of his clan, all Riveans, are grass munchers.”

“No, he and his-”

“He is a Rivean. That is the name of our clan, there is no other clan within my people.”

The archer stared confused at Ares. “What are you talking about?”

“There is but one clan within our Kingdom, the name of it is Rivean. If you have an issue with them, then you will bring your words against me, and not to one of my soldiers.”

“You speak such words, but they do not make sense.” The archer replied.

“All those who have joined me has disregarded their clans. Whatever their clans were, they are no more. Whatever grass munchers you believe to exist, they do not exist in my clan. We are Riveans, all of us. That wolffolk there, is a much a brother of mine as Omata, as much as he is a brother to the oxfolk. So if you have a problem against one of us, you have a problem against me.”

The archer stared into Ares’ eyes. There was a tense moment between the pair but eventually the archer pulled back. “There’s no problem.”

“Thank you.” Ares said as he turned back to Omata, whose face had drained of it’s colour. Ares placed a hand on their shoulder. “Come, you should eat a little more.” He said as he led Omata away. He looked to Gantal who bowed her head and he nodded before the Marching Blades gathered and began to eat with one another.

“I hope that the scene has informed you of what I expect from the Marching Blades and all Riveans. I ask that if there is an issue, have your Leitenant or Captain handle it on your behalf. This is not a cowardly thing to do, but a smart choice. There is no need to make such a big deal out of a simple misunderstanding.” Ares continued to eat with his soldiers.

“I want to apologise, Ares-kin.” Omata had his head bowed as he approached Ares.

“Look me in the eye and apologise.”

Omata looked into Ares’ eyes. “I’m sorry for the issue I caused.”

Ares nodded and then placed a hand on their shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I can understand why you did such a thing, but I expect much better of anyone that wants to be a Marching Blade.” He squeezed their shoulder and then nodded. “It’s good that you apologised, I expect of much as one of the Marching Blades. If any of you ever have an issue, please bring it up to your Captain or a Leitenant.” He eyed them up as they nodded their heads. “Good. Now I’m going to go for a walk.” He said as he waved them goodbye and then walked around.

The hours passed by and Ares watched as the oxfolk had begun to paint their faces. He walked over to them. “You have paint?”

“Yes.” One handed a pot over to Ares.

Ares nodded. “Do you have any more? I’d like to buy some from you.”

“We have a few pots.” One offered with a hand. “Take them.”

“Thank you.” Ares then dropped a torso’s worth of drake leather. “Is this enough?” He asked.

The others raised their brows in surprise as they went to check out the leather. “This is drake leather?”

“Yes. Is this enough?”

“It’s more than enough.”

“Good, take the rest as my thanks.” He chuckled and then walked out with a bunch of white paint, with a couple of red and black paints too.

“Marching Blades! Rally!” He said as he raised a fist. Gantal was the first to arrive near him and the rest followed her lead. “You will paint your shields. Here.” He said as he placed down some pots. “I want your shields painted white, with a red sword. Then I want you to personalise the blade with the black paint however you like, or you can add something around the sword, or whatever you like. Do as you wish as long as you have a red sword and a white background, this will be a part of your uniform. When the enemy sees your shield, I want them to wet themselves in fear, understood?”

The others tentatively nodded their heads, though Ares understood they weren’t exactly sure why the others would wet themselves by seeing the shields, but they did not voice such things to him. He shrugged and then started to work on his own shield, painting it pure white. He wondered how else he should design it but then he smiled. He painted his shield black instead and then began to paint some white over it, a pair of wings, and then went to borrow some yellow paint that he outlined the wings with. He smiled and then checked out his shield.

“Nice… cool as fuck.” He whispered and then looked out to the nearby Marching Blades showing them his shield. When they saw it, a look of recognition filled their eyes. He smiled and then began to laugh, then the entirely of the Marching Blades followed suit.

“Ares!” Called one of the oxfolk and Ares turned to face them. The oxfolk pointed out to the fields and Ares turned to look.

The human army had arrived.