Kellanved's Reach

Their newly promoted sergeant peered round to make certain none nearby were listening, and answered, low and fierce, ‘What we are is unimportant, okay? Nobodies. The lords choose pride of place, right?’

‘But that’s not effective.’

‘Says who? That’s the way it’s done. Remember your place.’

Gregar clenched his lips against saying any more – it wouldn’t get him anywhere. After one last warning glare Leah continued on her tour.

‘These kings and knights, they have a lot of experience at this sort of thing,’ Haraj assured him.

He nodded, rather sullenly. ‘Yeah. At fighting on and on just for the fun of it. And nothing ever gets settled – sounds like great job security to me.’

Haraj cast him a quizzical look. But he’d returned to waiting, leaning on his tall spear with its limp colours. It was a chilly winter’s morning; a mist was burning off and everything glistened with a melting overnight frost. Gregar stamped his feet for warmth; cloth covered them up to his knees and over this went leather wraps. A thick padded leather haubergeon hung down below his waist, belted, its leather sleeves laced with iron lozenges down to leather-backed gloves. As colour-sergeant this was his promotion in armour – making him one of the most well-accoutred members of his company. Which said a lot about Baron Ordren of Yellows’ resources. To make things even worse, he’d not yet managed to scrounge any sort of cap or helmet.

Haraj, for his part, wore only a plain leather jerkin. But then he could prance naked through both lines and no one could touch him, so that didn’t matter.

Across a lightly rolling field of dry stalks, fallow fields, and pasture, lay a treeline where the Grisian forces were making final deployments. This field of battle had been mutually settled upon after some degree of jostling and skirmishing between the forces’ scouts and advance light cavalry.

No ambush or surprise attack by either side was even a possibility, as both forces knew this region well. In fact, lords on both sides pressed long-standing claims to this border area, and several earlier wars had been fought over it.

Though distant, the Grisian lines appeared thin to Gregar. He imagined they must be quite spread out over there, both to disguise their poor numbers and to match the wider front the League could muster. That would only invite a cavalry charge from Vor or Bloor, he was certain. And there across the fields they must know that as well, and have planned for it. At least that’s what he’d have done.

Drums rolled then, announcing an advance, and Gregar straightened.

Light skirmishers and crossbow units advanced to harass. These would be met by similar forces from the Grisian allies and they would probe and press one another for some time while the lords watched and searched for weaknesses in the opposing lines.

Squinting into the gathering light, he made out the pale blue favours of Gris, the green of Bloor, the burnt orange of Vor, and the dark blue of Rath. These favours were sometimes nothing more than armbands, or ribbons on chests. Some knights wore no discernible heraldry at all – usually the hireswords – and he understood this often led to a great deal of confusion as to just who was on what side.

It all seemed too much of a free-for-all to Gregar – but again, he was no expert. The lords and knights obviously preferred this system, or lack of system, as each no doubt considered her or himself the equal of any other lord present, and aimed to prove it by bashing their heads in.

After a few hours of skirmishes and light contact, the manoeuvring began. Troops of cavalry came thundering back and forth as lords sought advantageous positions, or angled to match up against a perceived soft target, or long-standing enemy. The lords of Nita and Athrans, for example, were great rivals, and each asserted ancient family claims to Jurda – however tenuous. These two troops now faced off.

Gregar caught sight of the flowing red cloaks of the Crimson Guard as they went cantering towards the extreme left flank and again he was frankly rather puzzled. Why send them so far from the main action? Perhaps the lords Vor or Rath were loath to share any of the glory of victory with mere mercenaries.

The ground shook then as a massive charge suddenly broke from the Bloorian League lines. It looked like a collection of the lesser barons and knights hoping to win some distinction before the total chaos began.

It was premature, as it was met with a withering fusillade of arrows and crossbow bolts from the opposing lines, and they reined aside before being completely decimated.

Gregar was then surprised as the entire Crimson Guard contingent, which had been trotting parallel to the lines for the left flank, now dived in straight for the Grisian front – a feint! They made contact with the opposing position, an unlucky contingent of medium infantry from Fools, and appeared to be delivering ferocious punishment.