A man with a great stature sternly gazed upon a rank of levy halbediers. With his chest puffed out and greying strands forming in his coal-black hair, he signalled the trumpeteers to play a discordant but easily noticeable tune. Quickly, with minor, major, delay the column of halbediers formed a square. Pointed halberds stared straight out of the formation, forming a deadly array of razor sharp, steel pointed spikes.

I was sick and getting fed up, of those damn francs with their fancy horses. Butchering us in our hundreds! Hundreds of my fellow Allurions getting massacred by those heretics. So I came up with this. Ser Elvaughn proudly reminisced. Seeing their once mighty steed being impaled by several rows of halberds is truly seductively inducing.

The man in his prime of his life slowly formed a smirk and huffed a few deep breaths, and started to walk back and forth at the very edges of the formation. One wrong step could spiral the hero to Allure's Garden. He erratically surveyed the rag tag bunch of soldiers. No. Not soldiers. Yet. These are nothing but former militia and levies.

He glanced at their eyes and was not sure whether to feel disappointed or hopeful. Those eyes are not the eyes of a soldier but a civilian who knows nothing of war. I'm not even sure if they could keep this formation whilst staring towards an incoming cavalry charge. They could even flee when the horses start to gallop. I like to think they would stand their ground. Ser Elvaughn noticed excitement and determination at many of the faces of these future soldiers. Those are the looks that I would look for on the new recruits. I don't care if they're patriotic to the Empire or determined to protect their lands. I only care about those looks. They would put up and shut up at every adversity that would rain upon their heads.

The castellan, now once again a battle commander, heaved a sigh of relief. Just two more days and we could stamp out these bandits! He didn't realise how excited he was getting and quickly suppressed it and stood in a large boulder and coughed for their attention. "There was a thirty-eight second delay when forming a square. Much better compared to your first attempt early this morning. But you could improve! So repeat the formation again." The knight signalled to another man at arms to supervise their training and started walking up the gangway.

He spotted a slim man with greying dark brown hair walking towards him. "It's a suprise to see you here Romen."

"Just wanted to check up whether you trusted my information."

The knight huffed in indignation and stopped an angry retort. "I trust the Duke's spymaster."

Romen clicked his tongue in annoyance, eliciting a humorous look from the castellan. "Just the Head Servant of Grey Palace."

"Of course, of course." Ser Elvaughn sarcastically placated and followed it up with, "Armoured heavy horsemen carrying out raids and burning the food supplies and fields. Any person with half a mind will scoff and dismiss you entirely for what you reported Romen."

"It truly is fortunate that were dealing with heavy horsemen. Light? They would just strike out of nowhere and maybe burn our supplies."

"I still think it's ridiculous that we're still calling them 'bandits'," The knight drawled out the last word in revolt.

"The Duke has his reasons. Primarily to not incite panic within the duchy and not draw altruistic attention from neighbouring lords." Romen said with dripping sarcasm.

Ser Elvaughn snorted at that remembering why he preferred to directly govern. Too much nonsensical politics in this city. The knight briefly remembered the gaggle of Huntsman ladies. He clenched his teeth and stretched his chest outwards to stop a blush forming. A knight only has one reason to be a knight. To be of service to Allure and act as her holy sword. I can't do that if I married!

"Continue doing a splendid job, Hero of Almagh." Romen teased.

He visibly winced at that. I don't like being called that name! There was nothing heroic killing defenceless misguided fools. Damn it! He reminisced the battle and was always baffled how incredibly lucky he was. It rained and rained causing the ground to slip away. It was a bit annoying to march through that. But it did make it easier to plant wooden stakes upon the ground and those sharp sticks don't like horses. He, painfully, laughed at that and watched the slim man walking away towards the inner palace. Another meeting with the Duke? May Allure bless him if it's just as mind breaking as his previous report.

Albrecht stared at the letter with a seal of the Imperial eagle, and used a knife to break open the letter and quickly scanned its contents.

A letter from His Majesty's spymaster? Yusley? Let's see what you've got for me.

The Duke tiredly read on until something caught his mind. Rumours have began to spread in the imperial court about a possible invasion in the Empire. It's good that Yusley is doing a damn a good job at misdirecting those rumours away from Leidorf. He pulled his hands together in a tight embrace and prayed to Allure. If those vultures were to find that my duchy is literally on fire then they wouldn't hesitate to 'help' me. His mind blanched at the thought and remembered an infamous historical incident. An army ordained by Allure went to march to the east to help our eastern brethren from the heathen raids and incursions. Instead they were the ones who ransacked and pillaged. The worst thing is that this is one of many similar incidents that occured. But this one was especially engraved as a cautionary tale taught to lordly heirs.

Even if I trusted the lord; once an army camps in your front door then it'll be hard to move them away. Even if I did manage then they would need supplies and therefore 'forage' and turn to nothing but despicable thieves.

So it is vital to fix this situation by ourselves with no outside help. Albrecht continued his endless musings and added, oh and it's needs to be quick. Two more days of rallying. But after that? Romen is convinced these 'bandits' will challenge us as soon as possible and Ser Elvaughn is one of the best commanders in the Empire. He's confident that we could pull through this and see my son leave for Deorum.

An uncomfortable thought invaded his mind. What if they scatter and turn to a hundred small groups? What if most of them managed to flee after our 'inevitable decisive win' as my castellan would describe. Albrecht willed his mind to trust his Court Counselors.

The Duke redirected his musings to a pile of letters and promptly opened them and read them one by one. Most of these are just complaints from mayors and village chieftains. I didn't even bothered to read the ones from the merchants. 'Trade is low thereby less money... Please release the merchants.'

The Duke called out one of his clerk and ordered him to give the letters of complaint to the scribes. "Make sure those scribes write out a firm but polite, 'NO'. The Duke then added on to no one in particular, "That should be my reply." The clerk took a solid bow and left the solar. Merchants have loose lips so they'll have to be 'persuaded' to stay within the duchy. It is for their personal safety after all. He quickly took a sip of watered down wine and went back working.

Questions will fly like ravens once news starts to emerge that the trade centre of the Empire is holding back the merchants and traders. That's a question of when not if. Hopefully, by the time they realised, those bandits will be six feet under.

Romen knocked at the door which suddenly alerted the Duke.

Must be Romen. He never likes to announce his presence. 'Defeats my purpose don't you think your grace?' He'd always retort when I ask him to use the heralds. The Duke stifled a laughter and bid his spymaster to enter.

The secretive man swiftly bowed and waited for his friend to offer him a seat. "Your grace I have good news. No bad news this time."

Albrecht gestured for him to sit and heaved a sigh of relief. Finally some good news!

"Your grace you seem reassured."

"Of course! Probably the first good news of today." The Duke boisterously said and quickly added, 'Call me Albrecht when we're alone'.

"That's not true Albrecht. I told you that we were facing a professionally lead army with heavy horsemen. Early in the morning." Romen teasingly said.

"That's both a good and a bad news. They cancel each other out so that doesn't count." Good because we could clean this up with one huge battle, with probably a few skirmishes here and there. Bad if we lose. But they could always shed their armour and raid instead. I hope they don't do that.

Romen interrupted his contemplation, "You're brooding and grimacing again."

"I can't help it. This is my second war when I took over father. And this war is happening right here! Not in the distant lands of Francia!" His temper overwhelming him.

The Head Servant realising he made a mistake quickly placated, "Your grace, you need to calm down sometimes and share your concerns and burdens with your advisors. Then we'll counsel you. That's our job is it not?"

"Yes it is. Now give me the good news and stop with your unnecessary teasing!" A slightly calmer Duke demanded.

"Towards the east, the invader's progress to regroup with the main host have been halted. Meaning that the enemy army that Ser Elvaughn would fight would be short of, at the most a thousand men."

Albrecht smiled at that, "That is good news! But forgive me, remind me again how many men are in the main host?"

"Four thousand."

Instantly scowling, the Duke furiously ranted, "That's one to one! The only advantage we have is that Ser Elvaughn is our commander!"

Romen tried to calm his liege, "There's more good news Albrecht." He cheekily said.

"What?" Albrecht, devoid of patience, said.

"Your vassals closest to you have heeded your call to mobilise and they did with twenty-five-hundred men.They should be here in two days. This should increase our army to sixty-five-hundred."

The Duke slumped back to his chair and quickly downed his goblet. "Looks like you are right. Victory is assured."

Romen beamed at that and stood up and walked towards the doors.

"I'm curious. How did a host of a thousand, well armoured and supplied, men get stopped."

"Want me to teach you some basic geography?"

"Stop it with your jest and get on with it!"

"The eastern border contains a massive forest that spans the entire lenght of the eastern border of the duchy. The locals call it 'Trapped' Forest. They called it that because numerous petty kings of the past put many traps - "

"Stop. You're starting to sound like my son's lecturer." Albrecht promptly interrupted. Then added on, "I thought the marcher baron's castle was under siege there." He wondered.

"The last information I got from there is that they got besieged by four hundred men."

They both gave each other knowing looks of confusion.

"Their motive for doing this is utterly unknown. It seems like whenever we learn of them, more questions pop up out of thin air. We thought they were raiding, but then they wore heavy steel armour. They pillaged unlucrative villages then they started sieging my vassals!" The Duke gave an exasperated sigh.

"For the umpteenth time, 'this reeks of a conspiracy."

The two friends bursted in explosive laughter at that.

"How many times do you have to repeat that?"

"As many times as necessary till I find solid evidence of their motive or motives." Romen grimaced at that. Everytime something unknown and unpredictable comes, that he can't explain to his leige; reflects badly on him.

"Now your the one brooding!"

"Then it must be your turn to placate me then, your grace."

"Not even in your dreams." Albrecht bluntly stated.

The Head Servant frowned at that and thought of something. He mischievously grinned. 'You brought this upon yourself Albrecht. You should've placated me.' He vindictively thought.

"Your grace one more thing. I hear whispers within the walls and they tell me something..." Romen paused for tension

Albrecht, actually curious, kept quiet for him to continue.

"Your son proposed to the Chancellor's daughter, Herin."

Romen left the solar leaving behind a stunned Duke with his mouth open and eyes bulging.