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Two flags fluttered in the air in Count Daggleton’s camp. The red bear of Daggleton, and other the Silver Lion.
“This is a good land,” Garcio the Silver Lion said as he squinted his eyes. The land smelled of rich dirt—the kind that produces quality crops by just sowing the seeds.
“Allian… you have my word. You will be avenged,” Count Daggleton said to himself as he stared at Count Mollando’s camp.
“It looks like they thought they could beat us by going on the defensive. Do they really think that their scrap of an army can defend against the Silver Lion Mercenaries? That’s funny.”
“All they have is a fence and a few watch towers, leader. That’s barely an inconvenience for us,” an adjutant with good vision remarked after taking a look around the enemy camp. The Silver Lions had a few sieges under their belt. The wooden fortress of Count Mollando was like a shield made of straw compared to the stone walls of the castles.
“My brother, I will make sure that your flag flutters proudly on that land by sundown.”
Garcio drew his sword and raised it in the air. It was the signal. His mercenary squad began their advance as their horseman waved their flag from side to side.
Clunk, clunk.
The metallic...
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