Chapter 1.

Six armed men on horseback, wearing light-brown nasal helmets and light blue gambeson are slowly moving along a dirt road.

The men looked extremely exhausted. It seemed like they came from a very faraway place and rode hastily.

After a while, the lead rider caught sight of a fortress city in the distance. He then quickly fixed his helmet and announced that their destination was already visible to the others, waking them from their stupor.

After a few more minutes on horseback, The horsemen stopped on their tracks now that they are only a mile away from the main city gate.

Currently, a mob has formed in front of the gate, with more than a thousand refugees desperately trying to enter.

"I think we better look for another way in. m'lord."

The lead rider turned to the burly man beside him and gave a nod in response.

"Let us proceed to the east gate then."

…..

The men arrived at the east gate after half an hour. With only a small number of refugees in the area, the group was able to make their way to the entrance with ease.

The guards saw the incoming group and sent two of their junior sentry to question them.

Before the sentries could position themselves, the burly rider sped up in front of the group before stopping . He then leaned down a bit to the side and extended his hand to one of the sentries handing a plaque with a falcon crest.

The young guard was confused since this is not how the regular soldiers announce their arrival. 'They would usually present sealed papers', he thought.

Moreover, they are not expecting anyone important to arrive at their location. Subsequently, they have strict orders not to let anyone pass without their chief's orders.

Seeing that these men seemed to be here on serious business, and in order not to offend anyone powerful, the young man swiftly brought the plaque to his senior.

Upon seeing the crest, the senior guard felt weak on his knees. 'The "Falcon", the symbol of one of the three founding families of Beltir, the noble house of Routanen'.

The guard hurriedly presented himself in attention with his closed right fist on his chest, doing a salute in front of the riders.

Seeing this, the remaining guards followed-suit and also made a salute.

"My lords, I apologise for the delay, since your arrival was unexpected, we implore you to wait while we report this to our chief.

The burly man turned to his master, apparently waiting for his master's reaction.

"Go on then." The lead rider voiced.

Hearing this, the guard finished his salute by raising the closed fist in the air.

While the senior guard is hurriedly giving one of his men some instructions, the lead rider took his helmet off revealing his dark-blue eyes, shoulder length golden hair, and a dashing face with a chiselled jaw.

….

Inside the fort city of Evgrad, Wilhelm Routanen had just finished his audience with the port warden, and was now on his way out of the main keep.

After descending a long and wide staircase, he turned to a narrow passageway finally reaching a minor garden outside the structure, where a huge, heavily-muscled man was waiting, looking keenly at a group of young men performing drills with their sabers a few meters away on what looks like a training ground.

The towering man removed his helmet showing his rugged face, thin black hair, and grey eyes.

knight Varen rustled his hair then ran his fingers along the scar on his left cheek perhaps remembering something.

"Varen." Wilhelm called out.

Varen turned his attention and his body towards his master.

"Is it done?" Wilhelm asked.

"Renard has completed the task, m'lord."

..

"Very well. Let's also be on our way."

….

In one of the rooms inside Evgrads main keep, a man with short brown hair in his fifties is on his feet, staring at a pile of reports on his desk.

The man in dark-blue gambeson coat placed his hands on both sides of his desk leaning a bit forward and is currently in deep thought.

"Ser. Dontus?" A squire who's standing a few steps away, tried getting the former's attention.

"My lord?"

By the second call, Sir. Dontus Tinneth got a bit startled and was pulled back to reality.

He stood straight, now placing his hands at his back.

Without a word, and with raised eyebrows, the port warden gestured for his squire to continue on with his report.

"While the Routanen heir is in your presence, his men met with a trader, and appeared to have made an exchange."

"The traders caravan had left the city a while ago…"

"Should we–?"

"Leave them be."

"But shouldn't we inform Lord Craike–?"

"Schemes between the founding houses is of not my concern."

The squire held his toungue, and stood quietly on the side waiting for instructions.

….

"Instead, send for the scribes we are tasked to disseminate these reports to the capital and to the rest of the kingdom."

The squire left the room swiftly to fulfil his task.

The warden is now by himself inside the room, gazing outside through the open window.

….

With a big sigh, he thought to himself 'It Is unlikely that Beltir will be left unscathe by this incoming conflict'.

"A great war is upon us."

Day 20 of the 11th month. Year 1240 P.H.