"Your Grace, forgive me, but how could Lord Harrow simply help Lord Cenroy with his... 'army'?" Lord Keith spoke, his hand gesturing grandly. "If you could even call it an army." he snarked, letting out a sharp laugh.
He looked around, inviting the other lords to join in his mockery, but none did, most simply offered polite, tight-lipped smiles or stared back with stony indifference.
The Prince didn't respond. The same unreadable smile remained on his face as he turned his gaze toward Adrian. Seeing the Prince's lead, the other lords followed suit, their eyes pinning Adrian to his seat.
"I acknowledge I have few soldiers compared to the other lords here." Adrian spoke, his voice remarkably steady. After months of courtly maneuvering, the old anxiety of speaking before high-ranking nobility had finally diminished, replaced by a calm resolve. "That is why I plan to step forward myself and fight the enemy personally in their stead."
Lord Keith snorted, cutting him off. "And you, yourself, hope to match a hundred soldiers?"
"I hope to let our men know there is a lord willing to take the front line with them." Adrian countered, his eyes scanning the faces of the council before settling on the Prince, who offered a subtle nod of approval.
"And I want the lords to know that I am willing to risk my life for the Prince's goals. I recognize where I am lacking, and that is why I am willing to put more effort into this campaign."
He then turned back to Lord Keith, whose lips were now pursed in a thin line. "So, Lord Keith needn't worry, I have a fair bit of skill in combat, you have personally experienced this."
Lord Keith's face twitched before he leaned back into his chair, retreating into a moody silence.
Prince Cale laughed softly. "I have no further qualms about Lord Harrow's devotion. I will leave the completion of our forward camp to you and Lord Cenroy."
Adrian and Lord Cenroy exchanged a brief, meaningful look before nodding in unison. "We shall not fail you, Your Grace." Cenroy added, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
The meeting proceeded as the lords were assigned their various duties. Soon, it was decided that Adrian and a portion of Lord Cenroy's forces would depart immediately for the forward camp. They would then begin the slow process of transporting the rest of the army. Lord Wyatt and Lord Sean were tasked with ensuring the sea lanes remained safe for transport until Lord Bronsone's reinforcements arrived the following day.
The day of the decisive attack was set for sometime within the next three to five days. The air in the room grew heavy with the realization that the time for talk had finally ended and time for action arrived.
Before the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, Adrian, along with his soldiers and more than hundred of Lord Cenroy's men, boarded the ships. The journey would take only a couple hours, and Adrian knew the coming venture would be dangerous.
Both at sea and at land.
---
During his month-long absence, Adrian learned that through the prince's direction and the tireless work of the Maester's craftsmen, the new port city had gained three ships, two longship-style vessels and a large merchant vessel from somewhere that was modified for use in war.
Adrian had worried they might be intercepted by enemy ships, so as he stepped onto the makeshift, slightly unstable dock, he heaved a heavy sigh of relief.
However, as he walked toward solid ground, he found the camp, mostly a collection of tents and defensive spikes, shrouded in the smoke of low-burning bonfires. There were clear signs of a fight, the soldiers on guard seemed wary, and he noticed those closest to the docks relax only when they saw the ships finally moor.
Soon, the relief force of about two-hundred arrived, most of them hailing from Lord Cenroy's lands.
Adrian met with the Prince's knight and with Lord Cenroy's representative, Sir Nixon, who managed the lord's forces in his absence beside him.
"Sir Nixon? And... Lord Harrow?" A young knight asked, turning toward Adrian with uncertainty. His intricate armor was covered in dirt and marred by fresh scratches.
Adrian nodded, raising an eyebrow. "You suffered an attack?"
As far as he knew, there were about five hundred people in the camp, including servants. Though a significant number, the enemy held the advantage of superior force. The camp's only saving graces were the nearby hills and the mountains flanking them, which forced the enemy to approach from a single direction.
Unless the enemy committed their entire army, they couldn't easily overwhelm a camp stocked with arrows and supported by two patrolling ships without taking heavy casualties.
Especially with more reinforcement coming.
"Harassment, more like." replied the knight. "I am Sir Clive, one of the Prince's knights. Come, let me lead you to the area where your servants can erect your tents."
Clive appeared young, with short brown hair and brown eyes. He seemed to be roughly Dexton's age, though his smooth features suggested a life of nobility that made him look even younger.
"Harassment?" Nixon repeated as they followed behind Clive.
"Yes. A force of about fifty unleashed a volley of arrows and javelins, spikes carved from wood, mostly. We tried chasing them, but those fifty were quick on their feet, they were clearly chosen for their speed."
Sir Nixon narrowed his eyes. "Did they bait you? Did your men overreach?"
Adrian watched Clive's back. The knight turned his head just enough to reveal a grim expression before nodding slightly.
"They harassed us for half a day. Some of the men couldn't resist and chased them too far, only to be met by stones launched from hidden enemies in a trench."
"Where are they now?"
"Back at their settlement, likely. It's dark, and I dare not send scouts too far out, the enemy always seems to find them and gut them. Here.." Clive gestured to an open area near the center of the camp.
"Once you are settled, find me in the command tent to discuss our next move."
Settling was a brief affair, at least when one had servants to do the labor while Adrian simply watched.
Soon, he found himself in a large pavilion where a heavy table lay. Sir Clive sat in one of the chairs, with an elderly man in a robe standing behind him.
"Lord Harrow, Sir Nixon, this is Steward Emer. He is in charge of the camp's logistics."
The steward bowed slightly. Once they were all seated, Sir Nixon briefly recounted their discussions with the Prince before turning to the present crisis.
"We need to be the ones to harass the enemy now." Nixon stated. "Keep them on edge while the ships transport the main army here."
The question was how to do so without drawing the full weight of the enemy's wrath.
"We should form a line of staggered units." Adrian suggested, drawing from the enemy's own tactics.
"The front line harasses their camp, and if they are chased, the soldiers stationed behind at a distance can provide cover. If the enemy continues the pursuit, another band of soldiers will be ready to support the retreat."
Sir Nixon nodded slowly. "We could use a fast-moving force, we have horses, not much but enough. We use their own idea against them but better."
"We'll need arrows and spikes, then." Clive said, looking at Emer. "Do we have enough?"
The steward nodded. "Enough to keep them busy, and the men can carve more spikes themselves."
Suddenly, the tent flap flew open. A soldier entered, breathless. "Sirs! My apologies, but the enemy has been sighted!"
Adrian's expression turned grim. He exchanged a look with the others before they rushed outside. Adrian took his position in front of his soldiers, shielding himself behind a large wooden pillar to avoid any incoming stones or arrows. To his left stood Sir Cordell and Dexton, to his right were Nixon and Clive.
Ahead, illuminated by torches and pale moonlight, more than a hundred enemy soldiers stood in the distance.
"What are they planning?" Clive muttered. Archers lined the spiked barricades, fingers hovering over their strings.
Then, a figure emerged from the enemy line carrying a torch. He was larger than the others, clad in scale armor that shimmered like fish skin and draped in a heavy fur cloak. He had long, wild black hair and a thick beard. The man smiled, his voice booming across the field.
"I challenge a worthy warrior among you! Step forward and meet your end!"
Adrian stared in disbelief. To him, accepting was foolish, losing would shatter morale and cost them a talented fighter. The enemy champion looked formidable, and the risks far outweighed the rewards.
Tension rose with their soldiers as they wonder what the leaders would do.
Just as Adrian was about to voice his protest, he saw Sir Nixon snort out of the corner of his eye.
"Let us go meet him, show him no one is afraid of him." Nixon said, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.
Soon he moved forward fearlessly, two soldiers following beside him, and then Clive looked at Adrian before he followed.
Adrian looked at the knight next to him before heaving a sigh, hand going towards the sword on his hip before following.