Preparations

The Margrave's departure was set for the next morning, giving enough time for his Army to rally up, and put their effects in order. He was erring on the side of caution, and had chosen to bring with him his entire retinue, and the bulk of his professional Army.

Cassius tactfully approved of this measure, the true backbone of the March were the elite soldiers and knights that comprised his Honour Guard, and the professional Army. Against an unknown opponent conducting unknown tactics, it paid to be on guard.

A platoon of guardsmen were dispatched to the town below, visiting house after house ensuring the recall order was passed on to the Margrave's Soldiers. Meanwhile a town crier made the announcement as well, informing them of the Margrave's departure, and ensuring word-of-mouth spread to any soldiers that were not present to report ready-to-go the next morning.

"Our great enemy to the south has once again risen up to strike us! Our Great Shield will rise up on the morrow and ride out to stop them! All those in service to his Lordship shall report to the Castle tomorrow morning, porters and merchants, if you wish to accompany us, your time will be paid handsomely!"

Although strictly a military installation, Fortress Stroh had barracks for any civilians and merchants that would come to either act as a porter; essentially a Labor force. Or Merchants and peddlers who would accompany the Army and offer goods and services, or charter essential goods to the Fort.

Both walks of life thrived off this practice, as it allowed Merchants to make a tidy profit while earning honour for themselves and their business, while any regular Porter would be paid incredibly well for endangering their lives, and often times had the opportunity to directly fight any Cross Soldiers who penetrated the wall.

Oftentimes you'd catch teams of porters pushing siege ladders off the structure with a large double fork like spear, it wasn't unheard of to see these teams essentially restrain or dogpile any Cross member quick enough to make it up the wall either.

Obviously this had its risks, and capable warriors had slaughtered porters in their dozens, but It always bought time for the heavily armoured members of the Stenfall Guard to rally up and return the butchering to them in spades.

—---------------

While this was happening, Cassius called an emergency meeting with Horace and Carmen, he wanted the two young men to accompany his father and get a taste of war.

Horace had mixed feelings, he was excited and honoured to be accompanying Margrave, but a little tense and stressed that he would be leaving Cassius behind. He knew that Cassius wanted him to gain the experience he lacked in real warfare however... and when he thought about it... it wasn't such a bad idea to participate in a real battle, they might be capable of helping him find what he was looking for.

Meanwhile when Carmen heard his instructions, he instead was jittering in excitement. The last week of training made him feel invincible in the night, and even during the day time Cassius's training made him feel like he could go anywhere he needed to, provided it wasn't an open field with no cover.

The fishing net he had been provided had been turned into a rudimentary Ghillie suit, his lack-lustre rusty armour had been replaced with a tight dark tunic with multiple pockets for knives or poisons to be stored. And all of his clothing had been dyed a dark forest green, or stained with charcoal to produce a dark gray color to enhance the covert nature of his outfit. In addition to this, a light pack had been fashioned for additional storage, holding essential survival gear like dried food, a flint and steel, and a thick water resistant wool cloak that would provide a great deal of warmth.

The only thing separating him from completing the look of a sniper, or a ranger, would have been a high powered rifle.

Unfortunately until he could find the time to design a crossbow, Carmen was forced into using a dark longbow. He had a natural flair for archery thankfully, and after a great deal of fumbling around in the beginning, had begun to develop an uncanny accuracy.

Carmen had sought out other archers as well to discuss his form, and look for any pointers and tips to improve him throughout the past week as well. His seniors carefully corrected his form, and guided him through how it should 'feel' to loose an arrow.

"It's a high." Stated one of the senior archers, "Following through, elbow tucked, focus straining on your mind, and eyes locked on where you want that arrow to go… when you finally release that breath and you see that arrow follow true… you never forget that feeling."

The week of physical training was also beginning to pay off, he had just started to see his cheeks fill in and no longer looked completely starved. Carmen could feel the effects physically as well, he was getting faster, and he felt stronger! Although it was still far, far too early to feel and see the full effects.

Horace wasn't left out in the sun to dry; however, as he had been gifted a Horse by the Margrave, who simply stated "What sort of Knight didn't possess their own Warhorse?"

He also had plans to eventually get his hands on a better suit of armour, but Cassius had told him to wait, he would personally equip Horace once he had the funds.

Otherwise for the past week all Horace did outside of training was well, train! That's what Cassius had instructed him to do. Every day, sun till moon Horace was out in the sparring ring finding a new opponent to fight. Every day he would return battered and bruised from head to toe.

He had never complained once though, he had loved to swing his sword before, but now had become addicted. The burning in his muscles, the metallic crunch that sounded each time he impacted his opponents, the feeling that each time he improved bit by bit.

Eventually the regular garrison had began to notice his expression, a twisted grim smile had started to find itself present more and more frequently on Horace's face. Every loss, every victory, he improved, he could feel it. The look startled all but the Honourguard, who understood Horace's expression intimately. Horace felt it in his bones. He had been born to do battle.

One afternoon he felt a tugging on his mind while he was sparring with Jacobs, a particularly heated match that had left him completely on the defensive. His eyes dilated as he watched a mighty blow slip around his guard towards his left shoulder. It was… Slow? He decided to turn his body around the blow. The tip of the weapon itself helping to accelerate his movement, utilising the centrifugal force to twist his body further he lashed out with a thrust of his own.

Jacob's didn't react until the blow had already covered his vision, the wooden weapon cracking soundly against his breastplate and knocking him back a step.

Both froze as they tried to come to terms with what had just happened.

Eventually Jacobs figured it out, he had for just a second reached out and grazed the realm swordmasters dreamed of. "The Zone" He muttered.

Jacobs' eyes lingered on Horace, a mix of admiration and wariness now apparent. He stepped back fully, giving a respectful nod before breaking the silence. "That was something else, Horace."

Horace blinked, still processing what had just happened. His breathing was steady, despite the intensity of the fight. The strange sense of calm lingered, as if the world had slowed down just for him. His body moved without thought, almost instinctively.

"I—I don't know what that was," Horace admitted, his twisted grin fading into an expression of confusion.

"That," Jacobs said, wiping the sweat from his brow, "was the Zone. It's what we all chase, what some of us only taste in brief moments. You just touched it." He stared at Horace, more seriously now. "You should be proud. Few have come close to reaching that level."

Horace, still stunned, said nothing. His body was worn down, aching from the day's battles, but now his mind raced. Was that why he had been training so obsessively? Chasing something he hadn't even known was there?

Jacobs stepped forward and clapped a hand on Horace's shoulder. "Don't think too hard on it. You'll drive yourself mad. Just know that you're improving faster than most, and if you keep this up, you might be one of the few to master it."

Horace nodded, grateful for Jacobs' words, but inside, he was hungry for more. The Zone, that elusive state of being, had called to him. And he would do whatever it took to return to it. 

-----// Author's note //-----

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