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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b6vyn7TlyK8
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[b]Chapter 22: Hunter's Hill[/b]

Clopping hooves struck against the paved road in abundance, announcing the approaching column long before it was seen. Dark-grey banners with with gilded lions tore through the chilly breeze, held proudly by the riders honored with carrying the Northlands' standards. A small collection of buildings appeared on the right side of the road, and the people who lived there were fully occupied with emptying their houses of what belongings they had into small carts. News of the capital's fate had already spread a fair distance, though upon spotting the soldiers passing by, with no other than the king himself at the head of the army, the commoners hesitated. A few of them glanced between themselves in silent questioning before they slowly started to empty the carts this time. Perhaps they didn't have to flee, not yet. Someone was going to stop the phantom invaders.

They passed other groups of refugees on the road, mothers clutching their frightened younglings and fathers and sons conversing amongst themselves on where to seek sanctuary. Leofric glanced over his shoulder to peer down the column, watching as interspersed knights leaned down from their saddles to offer their own coin and bread to the desperate folks on the run. The knights received a myriad of good-wishes and blessings by the refugees that gingerly held onto their clinking tickets that would see them as far away as possible from the horrors of the capital.

Leofric leered skywards. There was no sun, not a tiny shed of warmth. Clouds stretched from one end of the horizon to the other, releasing a mild snowfall that slowly descended to the ground. At least it wasn't a storm. He sighed and reached down to a leather cylinder strapped to his right leg, and extracted a missive from it. They had been marching for half a day before the messenger had arrived with it, and the Castellan of the royal keep spoke of a huge device raised inside the capital city, with seemingly enough power to level the whole keep if the enemy leader willed it - their "king". Leofric scoffed to himself. He couldn't help but feel slightly amused over the arrogance of his new foe. The Northlands had no place for two kings.

They marched for another few hours, passing several other groups of refugees. Eventually a massive oak towered itself up in the distance, standing upon a hill with a wooden building beneath the protective branches. Tents and fires surrounded Hunter's Hill with dark silhouettes darting between them. The troops Leofric had summoned for were already present, and a series of horn blasts announced the new army approaching from the south. Distant cheering from the camp soon reached the king's ears, and although the odds were against them, Leofric had something his enemy did not - the courage of Men.



The door leading into the house opened. The hunter's lodge was a quaint thing, not necessarily belonging to anyone, but hunters frequently used it as a way station during long hunts, especially in the winter. Now it had been refurbished to a command post of sorts, with a large table in the center with several maps upon it, surrounded by a group of men. The soldiers turned around to face the door and subsequently bowed their heads for the royalty that had entered. Leofric marched across the creaking floorboards and took up a spot by the table while tugging off his gloves. The soldiers turned around again, and one of them - wearing a high-ranking officer's breastplate, spoke up first.
"We're all relieved that you are alive, your grace. Many of us feared the worst when we heard about the sacking of Lowburg."

Leofric nodded somewhat and glanced down at the map. Several lines detailing troop movement through the land and preliminary outrider reports regarding enemy positions had been sketched out on the map. He felt some relief that the enemy locations had only been marked in just an approximate mile radius around the capital city.
"Outriders report that a large number of enemy troops have bunkered down around Monarach's Rise, and that the land itself has twisted since  this force arrived. Taking back the city won't be easy. It's going to cost us a lot of good men.", the officer continued.

Leofric glanced up at the officer for the first time. He was an elderly man with greying hair and a gruff beard, weary features and piercing blue eyes. The king recognized him, as he did with all his generals. "General Castleroy, have you received any word at all about the north?"
The general shrugged a shoulder and scratched his cheek. "No, your grace. The outriders don't dare to cirumvent the city in fear of being spotted by enemy patrols. I could have them use the smaller roads, but it's going to take them a few days longer to reach our northern regions."

The king knocked a few knuckles against the table. "Do so. I will send a raven to Fort Royal and inform our Midway guests of the threat we face and dispatch riders to harass the enemy meanwhile. Make your preparations, general. We march in the morning."

The same evening Leofric watched as the raven departed and flew south on its path towards Fort Royal. He glanced after it a few moments longer before spinning around on his heels to march through the camp. He approached a cluster of tents where a handful of armored men sat around a fire, jesting and laughing with one another.
"Sir Arthur. Take a hundred men and ride north, carve through what enemy you can find and give them a reason to glance over their shoulders. Remind them of where they are."

One of the men around the fire briskly rose up to his feet and grinned. "It will be my pleasure, sire!"