Thread: Spoils of War (DareToDream and Nightingale)

With the bugling of horns and cheers from the castle denizens, the caravan slipped through the castle gates and entered the Narvarshal capital city of Rhannion. It was a prosperous city and well defended by the Knights of Narvashal, led by Marcus himself, and the citizenry were provided for with great care. Morale in the city, as well as the kingdom, was high and it was all because of High Lord Aquitaine, a man that ruled with a fair and strong heart as well as an iron fist. He had been the High Lord of Narvarshal for ten years, following in the footsteps of his father and grandfather, and the kingdom had prospered more under his reign than any other. Commerce was strong, hunger was non-existent, and love existed everywhere, including within the castle walls. Marcus had met the Lords consort on many occasions and she was a lovely woman who complimented him well. Unfortunately, his High Knight had never experienced that state himself but he was not worried his duty lie elsewhere. Marcus had been the High Knight, in service to the Lord and the kingdom for the last two years, having taken over the position when the previous High Knight was killed in battle. Since his promotion, he had led the troops with strength and valor, having personally claimed a number of enemy lives on the battlefield. It was not a feat he was particularly proud of but it was a necessity during a time of war and Narvashal had been at war with Greymere since he had been a child and would probably be at war for many years after his death. Both Lords wanted what the other had more land, more resources, and more people and so the troops fought constantly. The border between the two countries was an ever moving line, adjusting one way than other depending on the outcome of this battle or that. Enough blood had been shed by both kingdoms to fill all the rivers in their lands and then some. Marcus had no time for love because he was fighting all the time and he fought because it was his duty. It was not, however, his wish. Peace was what he wanted, peace for both kingdoms, though he knew no way to bring it about, at least not by himself. There were others in the kingdom who felt the same way, men in positions of power, and Marcus knew who they were. None had made a move in that direction though because it meant treason against the High Lord and that was not acceptable. So he fought, and the men he commanded fought, and one day he would die for his kingdom. It was not a prospect he liked but he wasnt afraid of it either. It was with those thoughts on his mind that Marcus led the troops and the High Lord towards the capital city of Aurelian and the Midsummer Festival. They stopped that night in a farmers field, breaking camp, and then headed out again in the morning. It took ten more days of hard travel before they reached the edge of the Aurelian. The minute Marcus received word from his scouts he put his men in defense formations and sent the backup detachment into hiding. Riding at the head of the High Lords detachment, the High Knight led the way into Aurelian, watching citizens move out of their path as they traveled down the city streets after receiving clearance to enter from the citys troops. They had been assigned to the north side of the city, where they would make camp for the duration of the Festival and as such, had to travel from one end to the other. It would take them past the camp of Greymere though so he passed word to the troops that they were to be on their best behavior. Skirmishes within the city limits would not be allowed or tolerated. He slowed the troops down and pulled them in tight, still leading from the front, his eyes trained on the enemy camp as he came abreast of it. Mentally counting troop numbers as he saw them, as well as marking armament and horses, he almost missed her. When his gaze swept over the front of the camp again, they came to light on a young woman who leaning up against a support beam, her hands at her waist. She stood only a few inches shorter than Marcus from the looks of it, with long honey-colored hair that slid down her back. Her beauty stunned him and momentarily left him breathless as he walked and then his mind reminded him that she was the enemy and the image and thoughts faded from his mind. Whoever she was, she was not someone he could consort with, not if she was in the Greymere camp. Forcing his mind back to the path ahead, Marcus led the troops on, soon reaching their camp.