The Stooges of Volgrave

Chapter 4: At War's length

Chapter 4: At War's length

The land of Grum had a lot of conflicting history. Modern historians never agreed on the cause of the barrenness of Grum. All agreed, Grum had once been the pride of the north - harboring beautiful gardens and fruitful trees. But how Grum came to be barren; no one really knows.

Many say the barrenness was caused by constant warring on the land. Long before King Arnold conquered the northern lands, the north had already been in conflict; the wars had razed its beautiful grasses and trees. There are some historians who oppose this story. They claimed a great sandstorm had come from the far north tearing away everything in its path and dumping a mass of sand where it passed. Either way both story went, the land of Grum was still a barren wasteland.

Harold giddied his horse faster. Not very long ago, he had stopped by the old camp and retrieved the soldier's uniform he stole. If he was to sneak back into the army's lines, he had to erase all suspicion. And so now, Harold, donned in Erise's colors, rode furiously north.

He soon found the army. They marched orderly as they were wont to do. Harold carefully dismounted from a distance and set the horse bounding back south. Approaching the army ranks on foot, Harold pondered a lie.

"Oi! You! Why aren't you in line?" A towering knight on a black horse requested of him.

Harold simply repeated the lie he had plotted, adding a bit of a common man's demeanor to it, "Me get a rumbling in my cock, so I go take a piss behind the thorns there."

The thorns where I got off my horse.

The knight snorted and gestured for him to get back in line. Harold clumsily walked past the knight and began marching. Harold soon got sick of marching at the rear. There was nothing to be seen here but the back of the armors of those marching aforehand. He soon came to realize that sneaking in wearing a Knight's cloak would have been more profitable.

He marched in silence with the rest of the men. Standing on his tiptoes, Harold could just pick out the figures of King Vilgard and Lord Fendrel. Both men seemed to be sullen - they usually conversed. The men stopped. Harold didn't care why; he swiftly broke through the ranks and arrived at the forefront.

"They're not here," Vilgard growled.

"We're a bit early," opined Lord Fendrel.

"It's almost noon. Shouldn't they be here at least an hour before? Surely they don't act like people who want my mercy."

Noon came and went. Vilgard grew impatient.

"Perhaps another half an hour my Lord," said the scribe.

An hour passed. The sun blazed. Everyone was getting restless now. The men had broken ranks and some were sitting on the sand. Others formed into groups and began to chatter.

Vilgard cleared his throat abruptly. "We march for Bayton." Spittles erupted as he spoke, "We demolish everything in our path."

As the men rallied vigorously, the Baytonmen arrived.

"Hideous fucks," said a soldier beside Harold who grumpily lowered his hoisted spear. "I thought we was going to end them once and fer'all and whet 'o we know, they come forth to broker peace."

Don't think that just yet. It might still be war.

The troops of Bayton were considerably a little bigger than they were the other day. They numbered almost two thousand strong, although the new recruits were mostly women and boys. The Baytonmen wore no different armor neither did they come with many horses. They still looked a disorderly sort.