The march began in the early morning, the army of Byzeth moving like a beast over the land, hundreds of feet trampling the dirt roads.
The banners flew high above the mass of soldiers, each one emblazoned with the royal crest of Byzeth, fluttering in the wind.
The clang of armor, the snorting of horses, and the rhythmic march of boots filled the air, creating an almost hypnotic sound as they made their way north.
On the first day, the weather was mild. The early autumn sun did only but warmed their backs, and the land stretched out in shades of brown and gold, the last remnants of summer hanging in the trees.
The soldiers marched steadily, conserving their energy. Aric, mounted on his black stallion, remained near the front, his armor gleaming under the sun.
He was silent, observing everything, from the way the soldiers marched to how the supplies were distributed during the occasional stops.
As the day progressed, they moved through the outskirts of small villages and farmlands. Peasants watched from a distance, their faces wary, knowing better than to interfere with a moving army. Aric’s thoughts were far ahead, focused on the northern settlements and how the first strike would be delivered.
By the evening, the temperature began to drop, and the soldiers set up camp in a field surrounded by sparse woods. Fires were lit, and tents erected as the men prepared for a cold night. Aric sat with Aszer and a few of the higher-ranking officers, reviewing maps and strategies by the firelight.
They spoke in low tones, discussing their route and timing.
"We push through tomorrow, avoiding the trade routes until we reach the northern forests," Aszer said, tracing a path on the map. "From there, it’s another two days until we reach the border towns."
Aric nodded, his eyes fixed on the map. "We’ll need to increase the pace if we’re to reach them before word spreads. The moment we breach the northern roads, we need to strike hard and fast."
The fire crackled as Aszer agreed. "We march at dawn."
--- Your journey continues at novelhall.Côm
On the second day, the weather shifted drastically.
Aric remained at the front, his stallion snorting and stamping its hooves in the snow. The prince felt the cold biting through his armor, but he was no stranger to discomfort. His mind was focused on the task ahead—the northern settlements were within reach, and soon the real battle would begin.
As they neared the northern outskirts of Valeria, the snow became deeper, and the trees thinned out until the landscape opened up into wide plains. The cold wind howled across the open fields, and in the distance, the faint outlines of the first settlement could be seen, smoke rising from the chimneys.
Aric turned to Aszer, who had pulled his horse alongside him. "We’re close," Aric said, his voice barely audible over the wind. "By nightfall, we will strike."
Aszer grinned, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. "No, you will strike."
"I’m sorry?" Aric turned to Aszer.
The king smiled more deviously "We do not need such a large army for a single settlement and garrison, you will lead 150 men to strike this settlement by night, I and the rest will match east and split to the other two settlements."
"Understood" The prince nodded, the king had made another unconsulted decision, perhaps to play another of his games—but this worked in Aric’s favour.
"By the time this settlement is taken, you will be met by legionaries from the north"
"Legionaries?" The prince asked a raised brow beneath his mask.
"Yes, I have spoken with the men of winter like you advised, their men will join you here and you will make base as we prepare to take valeria."
"I see" Aric nodded.
"Let’s move" Aszer commanded.
With that, the order was given, and the army pressed forward. Snow crunched beneath their feet as they advanced, their destination in sight.
The northern settlements of Valeria would soon fall, and with it, Aric would be closer to success.