The morning was filled with so much promise of a good day. The sun was particularly bright and magnificent as it broke through the shroud of stars that was the night. The air was clean that morning, but a thick fog soon developed, a fog that made it difficult to see your own hands in front of you. The forest that was Gorhenge was thick and lush, it was not as vast as some forests in Legia, but wide enough to fulfil the task it was given today, providing cover for an moving army. The advancing army of Darkenhathe was disturbing the tranquillity of the forest. The trees were acting as sufficient camouflage for the hundreds upon hundreds of troops, each amour clad with sword being held tight, each soldier taking out the frustration and possibly even fear at getting ever closer to a possible death. The advancing army was led by Lord Darkenhathe, a fierce individual sat atop his horse in front of all the troops, he wanted to get to the battle first. Darkenhathe wore a dark blue cloak, which the wind was blowing to one side and amour to slow down any normal man but Darkenhathe was robust enough to carry such metallic protection. His face bore a bear like stare ahead, his brown hair very straight and all in place, the wind flowing through it but not propelling a single strand out of place. Darkenhathe had deep brown eyes that kept a blank stare at the fields ahead. His face contained relatively no scars or marks from battle, as he was skilled enough to make sure none were inflicted on him. He rode at the front of the battalion, not at the back, which was the custom of most generals. The reason for this was simple; his hatred was so strong he wanted to be the first to strike down the enemy troops of King Golan. Golan had been King for too long and the two families had been fighting for the crown of Legia for decades, all to often the bloodline of Darkenhathe had been on the losing side, not today, for today Darkenhathe was determined to remove King Golan from the throne, permanently. Golan and his son Gyraicus were stationed at Gorhenge Castle, which is where the troops were heading. Darkenhathe had sent out scouts to the castle to survey its defences and would not move until they returned. Seconds took an age to pass, minutes more like a millennia; Darkenhathe sat deep in thought, not becoming impatient, staring blankly at the trees, fields and hills ahead and below that hill lay Castle Gorhenge and King Golan. The troops directly behind Darkenhathe were becoming increasingly worried of an ambush their whispers being heard and discarded by Darkenhathe. He breathed in deeply, his outward breath added to the smokescreen that was the thick fog engulfing the forest and the army. Darkenhathe paused for thought and lost concentration, the troops behind him were murmuring louder than before, causing him to turn and look at them, their eyes focused on the horizon, which made him turn again and face the oncoming lone horseman. Darkenhathe squinted his eyes and concentrated on whomever it was coming toward them, he looked very familiar and had something in his hand, a pole of some sort, with something that he couldn’t quite make out on the end of it, it could have been a mace. The lone horseman stopped suddenly and allowed Darkenhathe to view him fully for the first time. Then Darkenhathe saw it and recognised the figure, the crest of Golan embedded into his chest plate, it was King Golan. Golan and Darkenhathe stared down each other and even though they were about forty yards apart, each of them gazed deep into the others eyes and saw the burning hatred. Golan then made a move, causing some of the troops to get anxious. “Not yet” barked Darkenhathe waiting to see what Golan was up too. Golan raised the pole in his hand and Darkenhathe recognised what was on the end of the pole, one of his scout’s head. Golan then shouted at the top of his voice and Darkenhathe saw horsemen arrive in the distance surrounding them all completely. They were out numbered at least five to one, and there was a momentary pause between everyone while Golan looked into the eyes of Darkenhathe once again, Darkenhathe could not see Golan smiling, but he new he was. Golan shouted once more and the troops descended on them, heading for the forest from every angle. And so the battle began.

Gyraicus stared at the blade he held in front of him. A thick fog was enveloping everywhere atop the watchtower but Gyraicus’ vision focused intensely on his weapon, his light brown hair and deep green eyes reflected back at him. His average build and clean-shaven face gave him a look hardly befitting a prince. Gyraicus let his arm and with it his sword drop to the side of him, as he observed the fields ahead. His father had gotten word of a surprise attack by Lord Darkenhathe, his sworn enemy. Gyraicus was fortunate not to experience the wars that his grandfather had experienced when he was just a child but Darkenhate had taken his sister from him, and for that he would pay with his life. Gyraicus had heard stories of some of the bitter conflicts and his mind flashed back to those tales he had been told. `The smell of death was in the air that day` that line Gyraicus was repeating over and over and although he wasn’t sure what the smell of death was, he was pretty sure it was close to what he smelt in the air that day. Gyraicus turned his back and exited the watchtower at the top of the castle and descended the steps. Gyraicus didn’t really know what to think, fear kept creeping up on him but he was always quick to dismiss it, as he had to be strong. Gyraicus found his father, suiting up for the battle ahead. Golan didn’t have to ask Gyraicus what was wrong, he sensed it. “Come now boy, you have grown up being trained for battle by the best warriors in the land, being educated by the best scholars in the land, now you finish your training son” he paused “today you become a man”. Gyraicus gave him a look of understanding, he was a young man, getting on to be twenty eight this year, but in the eyes of the people he would not become a man until he had become battle-hardened. Golan and Gyraicus strolled, lacking any real pace toward the stable, where they would mount their horses, battle-ready. Neither Golan nor Gyraicus talked as they strolled as they were both too preoccupied with their own thoughts. As they reached the stable Golan looked into his son’s eyes, fear and anticipation were both waging a war inside him and there was nothing he could do. Gyraicus looked to the sky, the fog was developing strongly and could cause a problem. The silence was eventually broken by on of the King’s men, who Golan had called for, inquiring about the prisoner. Darkenhathe had become clumsy and sent what could be a blatant trap to the castle but he was taken in anyway. “The execution went smoothly milord” said the servant, not before bowing before Golan and Gyraicus. Golan smiled, “when I am leaving for battle, bring me his head, I’m going to show him what I will do to him”. The servant bowed acknowledging this and then headed back into the castle. “Father” Gyraicus broke his silence “be careful, there is a lot resting on this and I would not trust Darkenhathe”. Golan lowered his gaze and heeded the words, but soon dismissed them. “Nothing will happen to me...” Golan was cut off. “He hath already taken my sister, I refuse to lose you, not now, not to him”. Sierra was a little younger than Gyraicus, she would be twenty now. Three years ago, she disappeared, after two years Gyraicus gave up all hope of seeing her again and he vowed to avenge her death. Golan lowered his eyebrows at Gyraicus, he snapped “your sister will be avenged my son” he breathed deeply trying to hide his growing rage “and that vengeance will be wrought today”. As Golan and Gyraicus mounted their horses Chaigon arrived on his horse. Chaigon was tall and well built, with short, dark hair and brown eyes and was the captain of the Legia army. “Ah, I was wondering when you would grace me with your presence Chaigon” said Golan upon viewing his presence.
“My apologies for being a little late, we have spotted Darkenhathe”.
“And where is the walking corpse” Gyraicus threw in.
“His army has just entered the forest, over the hill, and is very slowly advancing”
“Is everything in place” asked Golan
“Yes sir, we have troops stationed all around the forest, we‘ll surround them then move in” he paused “on your word sir”
“well lets send them in now, they wont expect it and we can join them with at least forty strong from here” said Gyraicus. Golan paused for thought, then shook his head “I want to see that bastard myself, and be the one that extinguishes the life of that cockroach” Golan paused, regaining his clear mind that anger soon takes away “I‘m riding out in ten minutes, make sure everyone is ready Chaigon”. Chaigon bowed then rode off. Golan took out his blade and stared into it, making eye contact with his reflection. Golan stared deep into his eyes, the reflection then changed before him, the face staring back at him was now his daughters. Golan closed his eyes, so tight it hurt, but not more than the pain he felt over his daughter. He blamed himself for her death and he hated himself for it. Golan slowly opened his eyes, which were becoming tear-stained. He clenched the sword hard in his hand and looked again at the reflection, it was still his daughter. He wanted to say something to her, he knew it wasn’t really her and it was just his mind, but the only way to rid himself of the guilt he bore was to avenge her death. Gyraicus saw a tear in his fathers eye and did not say anything. Golan then looked out at the field he could see ahead of him, and below the hill, the forest. He turned to Gyraicus “Tis time my son” Gyraicus nodded. Golan began to ride but Gyraicus stopped him “Father” he began. “I-I love you”. Golan smiled warmly “I love you too son”. Golan then went to leave again and a servant came out, with the prisoners head on a wooden pole, he was holding it as far from him as he could. It smelt awful and looked pale and bloody. Golan took the wooden pole out of the servants hand and turned to Gyraicus and smiled. He then rode off to meet with the troops at the top of the hill. The fog was thicker than ever as Gyraicus started to ride off himself. Gyraicus’ horse speeded through the vast open land that surrounded the castle and spotted the troops almost ready right by the top of the hill. Chaigon was there and Gyraicus rode up toward him “Where is father?” he asked.
“He hath gone down into the forest” Gyraicus’ eyebrows immediately raised.
“What! alone?” snapped Gyraicus. Chaigon nodded. Chaigon then motioned to speak but there was a call in the distance, this caused all the troops to motion toward the top of the hill, Gyraicus, not totally sure what was going on followed Chaigon. The fog was even thicker in the forest Gyraicus could barely see down there but he did his best to survey what was going on in the forest below, he saw his father holding up the wooden pole with the head on high above his head. No-one moved, everyone either sat atop a horse or stood silent, waiting for what would happen next. His father then shouted something again, and all the troops started moving in on the forest. Gyraicus would normally have waited for a while before going down, but his father was down there alone and so his horse swiftly got to the bottom. Gyraicus drew his sword and rode ever closer to the oncoming troops. He drew his blade in a flash, his heart pumping blood wildly though his veins, Gyraicus silently hoped that his heart would still be active when the battle was over. Moments later, Gyraicus was called into action, slicing once on his left side, cutting a gaping hole through a chest and killing him instantly. A crowd toward the middle saw him coming and earmarked him as a target. He pulled his horse up suddenly and veered it to the left, galloping almost twice as fast as the oncoming soldiers who had no horse to carry them such distance so quickly. Gyraicus rode to the edge of the forest where it was less crowded to re-assess what he was going to do. His mind wanted Darkenhate so he thought that if he killed all of his troops that came in his path he would surely get him eventually. A lone swordsman had taken advantage of this momentary lapse in concentration and approached Gyraicus’ horse quickly from behind. Gyraicus looked over his shoulder and jockeyed the horse to run speedily away from the forest into the open and he figured he would turn there. As Gyraicus’ horse ran into the distance he heard a cry which alarmed him. A cry not of his father or of Darkenhathe, but the cry of a boy, a young boy. Gyraicus turned the horse sharply and darted back into the forest, as he entered the forest the swordsman he had encountered before raised his sword in an attempted ambush, but he took too long and Gyraicus thrust his blade into his chest causing him to fall to the ground and drop his sword. Before the sword could reach the ground Gyraicus leant over and snatched it right before it was to hit the floor. He looked around and heard another cry, the sound of a boy again this time getting further away. Gyraicus rode towards where the noise was coming from. Six of Darkenhathe’s troops had spotted him and came at him, three on the left, three on the right. Gyraicus drew both swords as he sped past them and with two spins of both swords it now lay at one on either side of him, he then thrust both blades backward without looking, both piercing the back of the men who didn’t even have time to turn around. Gyraicus then rode off, again in search of the source of the cries he had been hearing. He heard the shouts of the boy again, louder than all the sounds of sword grinding against sword and metal slicing flesh which could be heard throughout the forest. The howls he could hear were now coming from behind him, meaning they had gone full circle and forcing Gyraicus to head back in the direction of whence he came. As he turned however he heard something of more interest to him. A voice from the right of him, whoever it was had a tree shielding them, and although he didn't quite hear what was said, he instantly recognised and it made his blood boil. “Darkenhate” he called “come out from hiding, or do you only kill girls” just having to speak his name made him want to kill. Slowly Darkenhate, sitting on his horse appeared from the tree that was covering him. “My my” Darkenhate smiled “haven’t you grown ” during this patronising display, Gyraicus looked around to see if he was about to be attacked, however no-one stood by them, everyone else was deeper into the forest, it was just Darkenhate and him. “I do not need cavalry to kill a boy, such as yourself” Darkenhate grinned as he spoke.
“I am no boy, I‘m a warrior, I‘m a ...”
“You‘ll be dead if you do not stop talking” interrupted Darkenhate.
“How ironic, you talk of the dead” Gyraicus paused “you shall soon join them”. Darkenhate looked Gyraicus up and down, then dismounted and drew his sword. “And you think you‘ll be the one to kill me boy” Darkenhate smiled again “I think not” He turned his back on Gyraicus, to get back onto his horse which was a mistake, he then made an even bigger one. “Your sister was harder to kill than this” and as Darkenhathe spoke, Gyraicus felt rage erupt all over his body. Gyraicus leapt from his horse and onto Darkenhathe, both of them crashing to the ground with a thud. Gyraicus turned Darkenhathe over so that he was facing him and he punched him hard in the face, again and again. Darkenhathe’s face was soon misshapen and bloody. He then punched him severely in the stomach and chest a punch that actually hurt Gyraicus it was so strong but he gave no sign of this. Darkenhate soon began to cough up blood. Gyraicus saw this and it shocked him a little, he got to his feet “get up” he called at Darkenhate “fight like a man instead of a worm” Darkenhate got up, bloody and bruised, he then looked at Gyraicus “you wont kill me, you haven't got the guts, the killer instinct...” This made Gyraicus even more furious and he lifted his foot high into the air and slammed it into Darkenhathe’s face violently, causing him to collapse to the floor in agony. Gyraicus took a deep breath and lifted Darkenhathe to his feet, he laid him against a sturdy oak tree and drew his sword. In the face of death Darkenhate smiled “you kill me for what I did to your sister” he began laughing.
“No” said Gyraicus “the beating I gave you was for her, killing you, that’s for me” and with that he thrust his sword deep into Darkenhathe’s stomach, he pulled it upward, trying to slice his rib-cage in two, he then pulled his sword from the corpse to which it crashed to the forest floor, a bloody mess. Gyraicus got back on his horse a new man, he got back on his horse feeling like a man, a true warrior and for the first time in three years he felt at peace with himself. Gyraicus rode off into the deep forest from which he entered, the head of Darkenhate tucked away in a knapsack as some sort of morbid memento, and to notify the troops of his victory. As Gyraicus was about to leave the forest, which was now almost empty, a few skilled and a few lucky fighters remained he heard the familiar sound of the young boy crying out again, only this time he saw it. Two of Darkenhathe’s troops were trying to hold down the boy. He looked in his early teens, with auburn hair and was struggling to escape the grasp of his captors. Gyraicus rode over to the two soldiers and unsheathed his sword once again, he swung it clumsily at one of the men, who were unarmed. Gyraicus was reluctant to battle again, he had grew tired but there was something about the boy. Gyraicus dismounted sharply and produced the head of Darkenhathe, to which the men soon ran. He put the head back from where he had taken it out, then turned his attention to the boy. “My name is Prince Gyraicus” he paused hoping for an instant reply, it didn’t happen “what is yours” said Gyraicus trying to get to know the boy. The boy, then looked up at Gyraicus and they made eye contact for the first time. The boy opened his mouth to speak but was reluctant to do so “Valandt” said the boy, eventually.
“Nice to meet you Valandt, how did you end up here, at this battlefield?”. Valandt bit his lip and Gyraicus felt some pain in his eyes, he then saw the tears forming.
“My parents.....killed” the boy took a deep breath “I ran away to find a new place to live, that was three days ago” he paused again and dried a tear “I slept in a tree last night, and awoke to the sound of swords and fighting, when I tried to run away, men tried grabbing me, so ....” his tears were getting stronger “... so I, I stole a sword from one of the men and tried to fight my way out, like a man” he then smiled a little because he wanted to act tough and brave, his tears then subsided “I killed several before three men could pin me down” Gyraicus raised his eyebrows, he was impressed .
“And how old are you?”.
“ten this month, sir”
“Well then Valandt” Gyraicus paused, he wasn’t sure why he was going to do this but he was going to anyway “I live in that castle over the hill, would you like to come and live with me” Valandt’s eyes widened “Y-Yes sir, thank you” and he hugged Gyraicus. Gyraicus then heard a scream of pain and he pulled the boy away from him and got on his horse “stay here” Gyraicus said and Valandt nodded acknowledging him. Gyraicus rode to what seemed the other side of the forest to pinpoint the location of whoever it was that was hurt. Gyraicus knew who it was, but prayed he was wrong, he wasn’t. Golan lay against a tree, his eyes barely open, howling, bloody with three arrows in him, one in his right shoulder and two in his left arm. Gyraicus ran to him “Father!!” and he cradled him in his arms. “I got clumsy son” he smiled and summoned all his strength to kiss his sons forehead. Gyraicus burst into tears and one fell down Golan’s eye “I killed Darkenhathe personally” whispered Gyraicus into his dying fathers ear “for you” Golan smiled.
“I love you son” said Golan.
“I love you too” and with that Golan slumped over, dead.