jackal-among-snakes-16091326
chapter-224

In an area far away from the Tower of the Gray Owl, enough knights gathered to form a forest of horseflesh and steel-armored knights. Countless banners hung in the sky, swaying against the light winds of winter. Though the heraldry on each was varied and many, the most common colors were white and gold, and many flags were derivatives of the golden lion of House Parbon. At the head of this host, Margrave Reinhardt sat aback his prized warhorse. Evidently the white stallion had been recovered from Mateth after its theft.

Though stationary, the army did not look unprepared for battle. The men kept their disciplined warhorses at ease. Even more diligent were the countless mages in the party—they had to be, for a magical assault could occur far more silently than a charge of an army. Yet roaming warbands bearing the golden snakes of Vasquer roamed the plains, and none could be said to be truly at ease.

In the far distance, a party of over a dozen moved across the plains towards their party. A scout shouted, “Two A-rank! Three C-rank! Nine mundane!”

“At ease!” shouted the Margrave, his voice a great bellow beneath his gilded white great helm. He spurred his horse forward and proceeded, moving to meet the party that came. The A-rank mages were the men the Margrave had sent to guard his son.

As the two came nearer… Mina, Elias, Nikoletta, and Stain came into view, and the Margrave hastened his horse. The roaming warbands bearing the flag of Vasquer, though far from the host, took note of the detachment. The army prepared to cover the Margrave if he should come under attack.

“Son,” the Margrave greeted in a shout, slowing his horse as the two came near. “You’re alone.”

Stain seemed to want to correct that very desperately, but he stayed silent. None of the others seemed to mind.

“I am,” Elias nodded, making Stain all the more frustrated. “We have to talk, father. Who is present?”

The Margrave nodded. “A great deal of those supporting us. Come,” he waved his hands, then pulled on his horse’s reins.

The sound of horns blew across the plains. The Margrave whipped his head about, watching the movement of the enemy hosts scattered about the plains. Once one of the other parties heard the horn sounding, it was echoed to the next party, and like this, communication was quickly established.

The horses grew uneased by the sound of the horn as though it told of an ill omen. The lesser, poorly trained warhorses stirred, yet most remained firm. The Margrave clenched the reins tight in his white gauntlets, waiting and watching.

Yet the enemy parties moved out and away, converging towards several designated points. It seemed they were regrouping, yet not attacking. The Margrave nodded. “Come, Elias, everyone.”