KNIGHTS AND NOBLES

Prologue Cinematic

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APRIL, 1256 A.D.
LONDON ENGLAND

No one that would call them self a citizen of London would ever guess that England was rife with insurgency and was plagued with war on her Welsh and Irish fronts both, as well as having overly sour relations with their Scottish neighbors.
Despite the chaos that raged on outside of London's walls across the countryside of England and beyond, the capital itself seemed as serene and calm as it could ever be.
Children frolicked and played throughout the streets and alleys, vendors and entertainers were spread along the cities' cobblestone streets and sidewalks in all form and variety.
Jugglers, minstrels, dance performers, jesters, and so on, providing the citizens of the city, noble and peasant alike, with a joyous amount of entertainment.
While the vendors and merchants sold the people wares, supplies, food, and other luxuries.
The city streets were also filled with wide assortments of patrons, from nobles to peasants to soldiers and so forth.

Combine all of this with the warm beautiful weather and the grand majesty of the capital city, and it could almost make one forget about the countries' looming issues, dangers, and drawbacks.
Except for one person of course though, that one person being King Henry the Third, monarch of England and also one of England's most unpopular kings as of recent, mostly amongst the peasants and lower class nobles, although many of England's wealthier class did not care for King Henry either.

Henry himself now sat in his throne room, within the massive citadel like fortress that sat comfortably in the exact center of London.
He was sitting in an unrelaxed and tense position, leaned forward with half of his behind hanging off of the eloquently designed and well built throne, which sat snugly against the wall of the massive throne room, which bore towering walls, ten foot stained glass windows, and green tiled flooring.
Henry wore his traditional red robe and his golden grown embedded with jewels.His beard and hair were neatly trimmed and well managed.
Despite his crisp appearance, Henry's face bore an expression that was cross-bred of irritation, uncertainty, and defiance.

Standing before him was a small congregation that consisted of several of his advisors, generals, and a few Knights as well, one of them being the ever famed
Sir Rodney Ambrose.
Sir Ambrose was amongst one of Henry's most trusted knight commanders.He was cruel, worldly, and wicked, but was also a skilled soldier and excellent strategist and field commander.
He and the small group of commanders and advisors had been here before King Henry for a good hour now, discussing with him the situation of the Welsh insurgency to the west as well as the rising tensions in Ireland.

"Your Majesty,"Sir Rodney spoke, his voice smooth and low,"it is more than obvious that crushing Llewelyn ap Gruffydd and his armies and annexing Wales is our first main goal, there is no disagreement there, but I differ in opinion when you say that the efforts of the traitorous Simon de Montfort are of no concern.He has far more support than you think My Lord.We must arrest him and insure that he causes no more discontent amongst the commoners and his fellow nobles.He could very possibly initiate a full bore rebellion, and right now we have not the spare resources to curtail rebels what with Llewelyn mustering his forces along our borders."

Henry gazed intently back at Sir Rodney and responded with equal vigor,"Rodney, you are amongst my most trusted and well reliable retainers and I consider you to be a very competent and intelligent man, but I assure you, Lord Simon de Montfort, despite what you think, is no new age revolutionary that could throw England into chaos.He is not but a loud mouthed noble who is not very content with his current status and wants more power than he could probably handle.But don't concern yourself, I have spies and some of my most loyal captains keeping their eyes on him.I assure you, he has not gone unnoticed, and if his slander against me continues he will face the gallows.But again, right now, our biggest concern is the Welsh uprising and the Irish chieftains continued efforts to overthrow our rule over Ireland."

Sir Rodney stifled a groan of aggravation and bowed deeply to Henry, saying,"Yes Your Majesty, so what are your orders for me?"

Henry slowly leaned back and slid properly into position on his throne before speaking,"Gather and supply your forces immediately and combine them with those granted to you by Edward.
You will depart tomorrow and march for Montgomery, it shall be the first Welsh city to fall.We will catch them flat footed."Henry finished with a slight smile.

"As you will, My Lord."Ambrose said raising up.
He and his fellow knights all turned and departed from Henry, heading for the far door, leaving Henry alone with his regally robed circle of advisors, who all still stood before him.

He turned his gaze to the one closest to him, a shorter, older man garbed in dark blue and red garments with a curly gray beard and a near bald head, a man named Aston Penway.

Henry spoke to him with a commanding tone,"Ensure that my emissaries leave early and swiftly tomorrow for Edinburgh."
"Yes, My Lord."Aston replied bowing slightly.

"Has Lord Rufus departed yet for Ireland with his army?"Henry also demanded.
"Yes, Sire, yesterday afternoon in fact."Aston stated.

"Good."Henry said with a nod, casually turning his gaze toward one of the stained glass windows nearby.
After Lord Rufus crushed Brian O'Connor and his brother, they could then aid in suppressing the Welsh by utilizing the Irish Sea for their invasion of Caernavon, thereby effectively annexing Wales and crushing any further thoughts of Welsh independence.

The great ash-grey walls of Montgomery Castle cast long shadows toward the west, deepened by the intense morning sun that hung still low in the sky. And the silver birth wood forest took on a heavenly glow as it basked its bark in warmth of a spring morning. Lying between these two climates; the dark western wall of the castle, and the illuminated trees, there was a well-trodden dirt path, beat flat by beast and man, and it served as a bridge between the worlds. A scarfed girl, her steps leisurely as her brown eyes bobbed between the castle and forest, navigated her way from darkness into light. The sun shone through the thin cloth wrapped around her head as she turned to look around, passing a cart of spliced logs. The peasant who drove it had been awake loading the damned thing since the sun’s first whispers of day doused the horizon. He paid her little heed, and she continued on her way pleasantly.

Eira used to be afraid when she passed strangers out in the open, afraid that they could see that she did not belong there, afraid that they could somehow know with a glance that the girl had no business outside of those ash-grey walls. However, she learned quickly that most people kept to their business, and as long as she acted as if she belonged, very few would question her. Even as she left the castle boundaries, under the guise that she would be visiting the local Parish for morning prayer, not even those who knew her questioned the girl. Instead she walked out without drawing a blink of an eye, and when she came to the crossroad between Montgomery’s Parish and its forest, she took a left instead of a right.

The noises of a spring forest were just reaching the young woman’s ears, the different birds chittering away as they often did. It was so natural and organic, dynamic in its lilt, and it brought calm to Eira’s breast. Noises in the castle were often so mechanic, echoing down the halls and regurgitating once over themselves. It was the clatter of pans, the shuffle of feet, the repeating of words and the sound was ugly and crass. Though here, there was a peace and openness that Eira found comforting. Every direction but west, the girl was greeted with openness; an open field, an unwinding path, a limitless forest. But then when she looked behind her toward the castle she saw only one thing; a high, dead end wall. Perhaps that was way she risked her father’s rage to visit the forest so frequently, the girl liked the tantalize her fingers across the flames of freedom, knowing there were a thousand opportunities, but always returning to the castle that she felt she hated.

Why?

It was a question Eira had debated herself, an analytical girl, dissecting even her own wants and actions as if she was a third party, viewing from a distance. Her ultimate thesis came down to the security that the castle provided her. Walls were limiting. They limited the world she could get into, but as well, it limited the world from getting in to her. Off every direction, there was something great, but there was also something terrible, and Eira was a slave to that terror. But she felt relatively safe upon the boundary between her known world and what lie outside it, especially since she’d come to explore the paths through the forest, never venturing so far that she couldn't see the castle rose up in defiance upon its stony hill.

A leather bounded book in her hand, and a vial of ink and quill stashed in a satchel draped across her shoulder, the girl searched for a lonely spot to sit. A dozen yards or so within the trees, Eira stopped and turned off toward the right, where a path had been carved through the thicket by the numerous deer and other creatures that claimed this forest as their own. She seemed to know where she was going, venturing a few steps, and then creeping behind the thick base of a hazel. Out of sight from the path, though close enough that she’d hear any approach, Eira felt safe enough to sit, withdrawing her ink and quill, and dying the tip black as she began to write.

Running her thumb over the pad of her middle finger slowly Catrin closed her eyes, breathing in deeply as the bristles of her hair brush passed through her locks, the presence of the maid behind her radiating heat. It was a comforting and quiet time. Years ago Cadi had once made the mistake of commenting to her mother that as a Lady of the house she shouldn’t have to wake up as early as the servants. Asides from a slap Cadi had been told that as a Lady of the house she was expected to rise before the servants. What was the point of being noble if one didn’t conduct themselves with virtue and graciousness?

It was a shock then, that her title alone had not ensured her the qualities of virtue, grace, poise and all that made up a noble woman. And in that moment Cadi had felt shame, shame that she had even thought for one moment that her status of blood alone should have entitled her to all the things that made her life blessed and easy. Never in her life had Cadi have to clean her own chamber pot, or bake her own bread, or labor in any fashion. Never in her life had she been hungry, or thirsty, or ill and gone on without her needs being met.

Was she really so much better than these other women as to not have to work? No. She had just been born to the right family.

Shame had wracked Cadi’s soul for weeks after that realization, and then as the guilt and shame subsided she had promised to work as hard as she might to truly be Noble.

The brush stopped moving and Cadi opened her eyes again, peering at the looking glass, her reflection wrinkled and warped as the glass was old, but still a mirror. Her hair was glossy, black and smooth, flowing down her back attractively as the maid set the brush down. Carefully her hair was parted into three pieces and then pleated, the braid coming to wind around her head and pinned carefully in a coronet. A dark green veil pinned over her hair demurely to match the color of her dress, cream under sleeves adding contrast to her dark lips and even fairer skin.

Prepared for the day Cadi stood with a regal nod to her maidservant and headed down the keeps stairs to the room where the Hywel’s would break their fast. Seeing her mother and father standing in silence waiting she curtseyed and approached. Her mother’s mouth twitched in what might have been a smile and her father actually nodded in approval.

While it would have been nice to have a son first, Catrin Alis was a credit to the status of eldest child. He beckoned his daughter closer and Catrin walked alongside her father as they made way to chapel. When they returned the meal would be laid out.

“No Eira?” He observed, his voice deep and gravely. Cadi tucked her chin modestly and lowered her gaze.

“She has taken to prayer in the nearest Parish…” Cadi murmured, her voice soft and gentle. Of course Catrin suspected her sister was not actually so devote as that, but Cadi wasn’t about to get Eira in trouble with their parents. After all, Cadi had never straight out asked Eira if she truly went where she said she would go. Perhaps Eira indeed was praying down past the castle… It was the oldest sisters place to keep her siblings safe and protected, even from their own father.

“Hhrrmm” Gwallter grunted but asked no more. He either suspected this was not the truth and did not care, or assumed Eira would never disobey the rules set in place. Either way Cadi was not going to bring the topic up on her own.

Mass was drull as ever, but Cadi kept her mask of polite interest in place as her thoughts roamed. Perhaps she was a bad Christian… Many of the Welsh were, holding to older beliefs…But the Father’s ramblings were difficult for the Lady to focus on. She knew not a thing of the state of her soul nor where it would go when her body retired from this mortal plain, and honestly Cadi didn’t much care to be thinking of such things. The time would come and she would find out…What was the point of worrying about it now?

Stifling the urge to yawn Catrin stood as her parents stood, walking carefully behind them as they left the church, being the highest ranks ensured them the ability to escape first. The Lady smiled at the thought and ducked her head so none might see her grin unless they think her lacking piety.

CAERNAVON, CAPITAL OF WALES
THE WESTERN COAST

It was a pleasant day in Wales, likewise to England.
The bright, glowing sun shined down upon the mighty castle that was the capital of the Welsh government known as Caernavon.
The surrounding village and farms were equally kissed by the sun's golden rays.To the far west the Irish Sea glimmered and sat in a calm and non-turbulent state, the waves gently lapping against the sands and rocks of the Welsh Coast.
The towering mountains to the east were equally touched by this beautiful day with the sun illuminating them and making them look almost enchanted.

Sir Faramir Godfreyy, trusted commander and brave knight of Wales, stood along the western wall of the castles' portcullis, his arms crossed and his deep gaze pivoting from the mountains to the village to the sea, and then back again.
He did not ware his armor nor his chain mail, but a moderate looking gray tunic and dark brown leather boots to match.
His long hair was loose hanging and free across his shoulders, and his beard was, though neatly cut, a bit unkempt looking.
As he had no intentions of going anywhere today, he saw no reason in preening himself just to stay at home with nought to do.

God certainly smiles on Wales today,He thought, as he straightened his posture,now may he only smile upon us in battle.

Faramir turned away from the wall only to see an approaching man servant, hurrying forward, as if fearing Sir Faramir would break and run.
As he closed in he board deeply, before raising up to address the knight.

"Lord Faramir,"He spoke,"His Majesty wishes for you to join him in the training grounds later this afternoon."

Faramir nodded slightly and firmly asked,"Why?Did he say?"
The servant nodded and replied,"He needs all of his generals and commanders present for a final evaluation of the troops as well as a meeting in the war room afterwards."

No doubt for planning our first move,Faramir thought.
"Very well,"He said,"tell His Majesty I will be there post haste this afternoon."

"There is one other thing, sir, Sir Alden Sariwyth requests your presence in the training area within the hour, something about a rematch he said."The servant stated.

Faramir groaned in his mind.
That devil just never is satisfied.Tis a wonder he's not the greatest knight in all of Britannia with as much time as he spends in that yard.
"Very well, tell him I'll be there directly."He said.

The servant nodded and briskly departed Faramir's presence.

Faramir cast one final gaze toward the sea before turning and halfheartedly walking to his chamber to prepare himself for the inevitable spar in the training yard with Alden.

Eira never spent very long in the forest, though she often wished she could, instead the girl knew she should only sit for, at most, an hour. Then, her plan was to actually visit the Parish, in case her father ever came asking, and sit alone amongst the pews with her eyes closed and her head bent. The girl was always careful to time herself, leaving the castle sometimes before the sun had even risen, the forests dew-covered and cold. But it was important she did not arrive to the church too late, and if her father ever came questioning the Priest, he’d say what everyone expected; Eira was a devoted Christian who simply preferred to pray in privacy. She was too smart of a girl to leave such an obvious trail of her misdeeds. But today, the spring air was crisp and refreshing, not yet warm, but lacking the severe biting cold as winter. A fur shawl across her shoulders was enough to keep the girl warm as she sat against the hazel, and penned whatever thoughts plagued her into the leather book. More time passed than she anticipated, perhaps because the forest trail had thus far been abandoned, and there were no sounds from reality to draw her back from her writing.

It was the approach of feet that did finally bring the girl’s brown eyes up from her black ink. Squinting up through the trees, she realized that the sun had risen farther then she expected, not too dramatically, perhaps she’d dithered fifteen minutes past her mark, but the girl’s lips moved in a silent curse nonetheless. She corked her ink, and wiped the tip of her quill off on the stray rag she carried just for that reason. Her hands were splotched black, as if covered in terribly bruises, but Eira had just dragged her hand through still wet ink. The girl seemed to hardly care though, wiping her hands down on the rag, which only lightened the stains barely, and pulling her gloves back over the pale skin. It was a trick of the trade, having ruined enough pairs of gloves in her lifetime to fill a chest, and her teacher’s always hated how the girl seemed to disregard such stains, chastising the girl until finally she made habit of removing her gloves before she wrote. Ears alert on the footsteps, a single set, that grew louder in their approach, Eira waited, pressed with her back to the tree, her scarf pulled over her head and face so only her eyes were visible, and both hands pressed to the many branches of the hazelnut tree. And then, just as the steps reached their crescendo, they stopped, and with them, Eira’s heart.

Her shoulders drew in as the girl stood still, knowing she was not visible through the foliage; but why else would the footsteps stop only feet from her? ‘Maybe he has to relieve himself…’ she thought with a mix of hope and disgust. A branch snapped to her right, and the girl turned toward the sound, body tensed and coiled to bolt as soon as she saw the figure emerge.

“Eira Mared Hywell! Why in God’s green earth are you in the forest alone!” A voice boomed, and for a brief, terrifying moment, Eira mistook the speaker for her father, with a similar depth. She screamed, jumping back as the familiar visage of her brother stepped into view, his eyes narrowed in stern annoyance, though he did have a sliver of a smile upon seeing how much he’d frightened her.

“Gwillym! You ass!” She responded, moving forward to push his big frame, but the boy, her younger, hardly moved, a short bow in one hand, and an arrow in the other, or else it was just as likely he might have pushed her back. A few years ago, he definitely would have, but Gwillym liked to think himself above physically fighting with his sisters; chiefly because there was no sport in it anymore, both girls his lesser, as well as that chivalrous streak in him that knew he ought not hurt them. “And what is that for, huh? Were you going to shoot at me?!” Eira stood a few feet from her brother, no longer the least bit frightened, because though Gwillym tried to act as if he was the rational one and the boss, she knew that she was his elder, and he had no right telling her anything.

The boy peered down at the bow, having forgotten he’d been carrying it, so caught up in tracking his sister down, “Oh-…No,” He slid the arrow back into the quiver, and strung the bow across his back, “I had intended to hunt small game-…But I thought I ought to find you first.” His voice sharpened at the end, returning to the question at hand; “Enough, you watch your mouth.” He advised, which he earned a daggered look from Eira, because he knew as well as she that he’d spoken far more vulgarly then she, “And you still have not answered me; what are you doing here?”

“I was writing, was all.” Eira answered sullenly, grasping the leather book close to her chest, both arms across it.

“Writing about what?”

“Whatever I feel like writing-…Hey, you go on, leave me alone, I don’t pester you about every minute detail of your squirehood.”

“Ha!” He scoffed at his sister, who scowled up at him, “You may as well! Always asking me about the war, what it was like to see battles, to be in a skirmish, to see men killed, you’d think you’d tire of it.” His hand came out to try and catch the side of the book, rip it away from her, but Eira was too quick, dancing back, and though it would have been simple to pursue and pry the book away, Gwillym didn’t feel like it.

“You don’t even like reading anyways, Wil.” Eira responded, watching him with distrustful eyes, but the boy no longer seemed interested in going after her book, “How did you know I was here?” She asked finally, her voice now taking a softer element, “You’re not going to tell father… Are you?”

The boy rolled his eyes at her, like she was his little sibling, asking an obvious question, “How did I know you were here? Well, first off, I’m the one who brought you to this place originally, which I never would have if I thought you’d come out here alon-“

“You came out here alone.” She interrupted the boy, annoyed with his tone.

“Yeah but I’m a man.” He answered smartly, causing Eira to now roll her eyes at him.

“Hardly…” Eira answered, and Gwillym continued.

“-…Anyways, I never would have brought you here if I knew you’d come here by yourself, I have half a mind to tell father simply because you’re going to get yourself abducted. Girl like you? Out here like this? It’s a wonder you’re not already gone, dragged off by some rapers.”

“Oh shush, you always exaggerate, I’m hardly a five-minute walk from the Parish, it’s not that dangerous out here.”

“Yes, it is.” The boy’s voice took on a grave tone, one Eira could not argue with, only stare on, her lips pressed together as Gwillym began to speak again, “But, you did not attend Church with Father and Mother this morning, and Catrin said you had gone to pray alone at the Parish-…so after Mass, when I saw you weren’t yet back, I wandered down to the Parish and-“

“Did you speak with the Priest?” Eira interjected again, her eyes wide as she did not want the Priest to have any suspicious of her.

“…No, I just looked amongst the pews and saw you were not there, and so this was the first place I checked. Doesn’t help that you’re easier to track than an injured deer. I saw your footsteps pressed into the deer trail, and I followed them to here. Really, Eira, anyone with even slightest skill, would have found you here if they walked past and were intrigued. Not many child-like prints wandering off into the brush…”

“Oh save it-…Fine, I’ll be more careful.”

“No, not ‘I’ll be more careful’. Don’t come out here at all. If you really need to come see these trees, heaven knows why, I will bring you.”

He thought it was a fair exchange, though the annoyed look on his sister’s face said otherwise, “You’re leaving in a week.”

The boy shrugged his gangly shoulders, “Fair enough, I s’pose you’ll just have to relish me when I’m around, and manage when I’m gone.”

Eira snorted, “Fine, I won’t go into the woods alone,” Unless of course, you’re gone and can’t do anything to stop me, she added in her mind, and it was almost as if Gwillym could read her mind, because the boy seemed less than thrilled by her agreement.

“I’m serious, Eira, you wouldn’t be the first girl to wander off alone into the woods and never come out, and you wouldn’t be the last.”

“You’re so dramatic, Gwillym, really, you’ve travelled the world and been in far more dangerous places then the Forests surrounded a castle. I think I can manage.”

He did not respond, annoyed by her easy dismissal of fears he knew were legitimate, but he knew that to continue to debate with the girl would only draw his anger, and he hated getting angry at his sisters. There was something about the way they looked at him afterwards that made the boy immensely guilty. Instead he gestured for her to follow, Eira complying well enough, as they stepped once more through the deer trail, and down the path toward the Parish.

“I am legitimately going to the Parish now, Wil, if you want to go hunting. It’s a short walk.” She spoke again after they emerged from the wall of trees, but Gwillym shook his head.

“I’ll just walk with you, Eira. You’re the biggest pain in my arse, and I’d probably be better if you got picked off by some highwaymen, but I’d rather see you there safely.”

“You worry too much…”Eira murmured, though did not protest her elder brother’s presence, making it to the Parish at around nine, and the duo split from there, to go about their separate days of training to be a knight, and whatever training to be a Lady Eira felt mandatory to complete to keep her parents satisfied.

The morning progressed as it typically did, with little to no change in routine. Prayer, breakfast, brief conversation with her father or mother and then off to her various activities. Cadi couldn’t really call them chores as they were elective and furthering her skills as a lady. Needle work, accounting suitable for a Lady to run the house hold while her husband was away, weaving, conversation in French as well as Gaelic. The day was sure to run by without a glance backwards, a nice routine to know all was well.

War was looming ahead, anyone could see that, was there much wrong with enjoying a quiet days work?

Cadi thought not. Still she saw her father and other men of import bustling to a council room to discuss something ominous (if their gloomy expressions were hint enough) which cut her language lessons short.

“Of course.” She had promised her tutor. “I will return these texts immediately, you go…” A small smile was given and returned between the two and Cadi sat for a time alone at the table before rising. There was no point in worrying over what it was going on behind those closed doors. The best she could do was return the texts to where they belong and perhaps pursue a rare afternoon to her own devices.

Uncertain what she might do with the free time Cadi took a leisurely coarse to the libraries, her thoughts in the clouds and her step slow and wandering. Eventually she did find the room and even the shelf needed. With a satisfactory push she returned the volume to its rightful place.

And was at a loss.A puppet with it's strings cut.

With no one to dictate her actions and no one to mind her Catrin meandered about the library for a time before coming to the large window the room boasted. The glass was wavy and bubbled but still, a glass window was a luxury not many were able to experience.

Yet another example of her blessed life. Then why didn't she feel blessed?! Irritation stirred in her gut at being left in the dark. She wanted to know what was going on, but the most she ever heard were murmured conversations between men before they noticed her approach.

Politics were clear, England and her servants were at Wales door. The question was when and how they would knock. With so many knights gone and remaining gone despite the oncoming of Spring and the various tournaments and festivals it brought... Those empty chairs signified another pair of hands at the borders. Another pair of boots that may never return.

Pressing a gentle palm against the pane the eldest Hywel sighed, staring blankly out at the sky as it turned cloudy and gray. Much more typical of a spring day than the former rays of sun had been and certainly more reflective of her state of mind.

A soft cough behind the Lady drew her attention away and Cadi quickly replaced her forlorn look with a pleasant smile, turning to see who it was who called upon her.

Her brother! They hadn’t gotten to talk at mass and then he had headed off to hunt.

“Wil…” She smiled all the more, genuinely happy to see her younger brother. He was absent so much of the time now... Her heart tugged. Another pair of hands at the bow and arrow, sword and shield.

Tilting her chin back to inspect his not as youthful face Cadi reached up to rub the back of her neck teasingly. She had been considered astoundingly tall in the family, and of most other Welsh nobles.
Especially for a woman. But her little brother had by far exceeded her own height and that of almost all of their relatives.

“I feel pity for your master…He has to keep buying you new clothes…” She smirked and gestured for her brother to come closer so she might better inspect him.

"Was your hunt fruitful?" Catrin asked softly, her brows arching inquiringly. Did she know that it was not Pheasant he stalked but their errant sister? It was impossible to tell with Cadi, she kept her own council so well these days.

@CorinTraven

Some said it had always been God’s will that Gwillym Hywel would be a knight; what else would explain for his inches in height above his own father, or the fact the boy had never once shown interest in any other calling than knighthood. Since his early boyhood, when he’d been smaller than Cadi- who hit her growth spurt years before the boy, he’d run about their home estate shouting and insisting that he was Sir Gwillym Hywel, greatest knight in all of Wales. Back then, the sister’s used to tease him, as he’d only just begun to learn how to swing a wooden sword, and Cadi had been his superior in both height and strength at the time. Now, though he was still a squire, it’d be far harder to jest about the boy’s dreams of knighthood, his overall appearance no longer that of a scrawny boy, but rather a well built, if still growing, man. He wore a dark leather tunic, a preferred piece for the hunt, and leggings to match. His bow and arrow were left abandoned somewhere, and if the boy had been successful in his hunt, he’d already taken the time to wash up afterwards, a bit of moisture still glistening against his smooth jaw.

“Cadi.” He spoke her name after his like a broken echo, smiling back down at his elder sister, glancing down to his clothes awkwardly as she had commented on them, confused, as he mistook her comment to be in regards to any dirt or blood he might have sullied the tanned leather with, “Ah-...uh, I didn’t think I had gotten anything on them…” He mumbled, taking a step closer as she gestured. He wasn’t as bright as his sisters, having never taken to his studies of book as he did to the sword, but the boy wasn’t exactly dull either.

“My hunt? Uh, I didn’t stay out long. I saw a doe, but she likely just dropped fawn, so I let her go. I did manage a few small rabbits, no trophies.” He shrugged his shoulder, and for a moment, it might seem as if the boy wasn’t going to blow in Eira to their eldest sister, but the moment passed, and the boy continued, “I would have had better game had I not wasted time visiting our beloved middle sister.” He paused for a moment, allowing Catrin to react, before his voice came again.

Catrin remained silent, her head nodding carefully as she listened. Having never tried hunting she did not understand the interest so many held for the activity. The resentment while mild Wil held for their wayward sister seemed misplaced, but then Cadi didn’t know how much time one needed to devote to the hunt anyway.

“I went to the Parish to see her devotion to Christ,” He could almost roll his eyes at that, “ in the flesh, and just as I expected, she was not amongst the pews. I took ten steps into the forest, and found her, apparently writing.”

Startled that Wil would so easily tell tale on Eira Cadi looked down demurely, her hands clasping before her. Up until now she had been able to deny knowledge fully of what it was Eira did beyond the castle walls.

Of course she had always suspected, Catrin being no fool. Still… Now she truly knew and that meant if her father or mother were to confront Cadi she’d have to outwardly lie or sell out her sister.

An uncomfortable place to be.

As it was Cadi was just as sure that Wil was confiding in her due to concern for Eira, who at times could be a bit careless…

“Gwillym…”

He betrayed her, or maybe it wasn’t so much of a betrayal because he did not go to their parents, who would ream the girl, but instead to their gentle elder sister, who he knew would not go confess to their overseers either. Gwillym didn’t trust Eira not to disobey him the moment he disappeared over the horizon. Catrin, at least, she seemed to listen to with a bit more heed, the two sisters having grown close to one another in his absence. “She’s going to get caught, I really do not know how she’s managed it for so long, though I suppose father hasn’t the time to visit the Parish with all this panic of war-...And she apparently is careful enough that she always arrives to the local parish before mass is dismissed.”

The boy shook his head, expecting Catrin to be on his side, because he knew he was being rational, with a mind tethered to reality rather than way up in the clouds where Eira’s consciousness lingered.

Cadi was quiet for a moment longer before leveling her sea green eyes on her younger brother. Little did not seem the right term anymore, for little he was not.

“Wil…” Cadi clasped her brother’s forearm imploringly, her own hands soft to the touch as a lady’s ought to be. An instant was allowed for her to be surprised by the strength there in his arm, hard and wry to grip before the eldest Hywel went on.

The boy frowned at the tone of her voice, beginning as she often did; first to speak their name, and then her words of disagreement followed. Before she’d even began her argument, Gwillym’s dark brows were beaten together, looking down at her critically as she held onto his arm.

“It’s different for you, you’re the heir and a man.” Even a few months ago Cadi would have called Wil a boy, but today she could see he was past boyhood. While a man perhaps was not entirely what he was, childhood seemed to have slipped away.

She also wanted to flatter her brother as well to sweeten his temper.

“Eira and I...We’re locked away from the world, kept in the dark about it all, expected to be sweet gentle creatures despite what is happening to our countrymen...To our lands and to our people.” Cadi let her hand drop from Wil’s arm to sweep out to the blurred window indicating the world beyond, to a freedom the girls would never truly know.

“You can fight, you can go out and stop the English and bandits and anything else. You are strong and everyone expects you to be able to handle yourself.” Long lashed eyes drifted to the shelves around them, filled with books, how many had she herself read?

“In here, we are caged. I used to fight that as well, you must recall when I was smaller…” Rebellious was the word used. Sighing Cadi shook her head as sad small smile moved over her lips.

“Eira...She is just more ...Well…” Cadi reached up to her brothers dear face to stroke it affectionately. “She is more like you my dear heart…” Catrin let her fingertips press against Wil’s lips to silence the argument she could see growing there.

“I do agree...It’s dangerous to go out alone... “ She conceded. “ I just also understand the urge to do so…” Couldn’t he?

That unyielding look of annoyance did not falter, blossoming into more of a brood by the time Cadi had pressed her finger against his lips, his hand reaching up to ensnare her own, and brought it away. “I know, Cadi.” He replied grimly, “She just worries me. I’m not going to tell father, or anything drastic, but I still don’t like it…” there was a pause, “And I was hoping you’d feel the same way. I should have figured, when have you agreed with me?” The boy shown a glint of a smile afterwards, having awkwardly allowed his sister’s affections, but now he stepped carefully back, brown eyes upturning toward the ceiling.

“I don’t know why everyone insists Eira and I are so alike, I know she hated it when people use to ask if we were twins-... She really hates it now when people call her my little sister-” The grinning remained, “But really, we’re hardly alike at all. All she does all day is pen away in her books or sulk around; when was the last time you saw me writing for leisure? Never.”

“A hobby is not a reflection of someone’s true character little brother...You know that as well as any other. You and Eira are both dear to my heart and dear to each other…” She grinned. “You both like tweaking each others tails and bickering for the sake of argument. You both act tougher than you truly are…” Cadi held up her hand defensively.

“Not that you are not a brave warrior my brother, but your heart is kind…” Cadi looked down the windows once more. The sun was shivering behind the watery clouds.

Gwillym opened his mouth to retort, but before he found the words, the gentle click of footsteps disturbed his attention. The boy twisted his chin to a newcomer, frowning as he did.

From a western door, Eira had found her way to the library, unknowing that both her siblings awaited her there. When she emerged from the high shelves, she still had the light mauve scarf wrapped around her head and shoulders, and her slate-grey gloves were still pulled over her hands, suggesting that the girl had just returned from prayer.

“Three hours at the Parish? Sister, if father had known you were so devote, he’d have sent you to the Abbey by now.” The boy teased her, a crooked grin breaking his leering demeanor.

In response, Eira pulled the scarf down from over her mouth, the tip of her nose reddened from the cold despite being covered, and sneered, “Enough of it, Gwillym. I’d sooner die then live my life in the nunnery.” She brought her hand to the center of her chest for effect, and pressed her lips into a tight line, “And father doesn’t know I returned so late, so why bother him with it? There’s nothing wrong with a morning of prayer.”

Catrin worried as her siblings started bickering almost at once. Of course Wil had been an ass immediately… But Eira couldn’t NOT rise to the occasion could she?

Why couldn’t they enjoy the limited time they had together before Wil was sent off to the borders?

An indignant snort was all Gwillym could reply, rolling his eyes, and looking out the window at the brewing storm, “Any more time spent ‘praying’, and you’d have returned soaking wet.”

With a roll of her eye Cadi conceded to herself that they must be enjoying each other’s company. Who else would Eira argue with when Wil was gone? Who would annoy and pester Wil while he was in his masters keep?

The lean girl shrugged her shoulders, the shawl wrapped around her obscuring most of her body, but one could tell simply from the frame of her face and the narrow width of her neck that she was all bone. Her eyes were now on Cadi, ignoring Wil like they used to when they were young, “And why are you away from your lessons?” She tried to imitate their mother, shifting her accent a little, and pressing her brows together in disapproval, but a second later, the smile broke the facade, and Eira’s tuneful voice returned, “-...But really, I hardly ever see you around this type of day, decide to host a rebellion?” She grinned between the two of her siblings, getting another eye-roll of Wil, but she just returned it, and tried to ignore their younger brother.

Catrin lowered her chin to hide her smile demurely. The attempted accent of their mother was rather good.

“Alas my tutor wrote me off as a bad job… I have no knack for languages…” That was simply untrue! But she didn’t want to burden her sister with the harsh realities that danger and war were at their doorsteps.

Instead the eldest fussed with her shawl and gestured to the window. “Wil is right Eira...A few minutes more and you might have been wet…” The rain had started to fall from the heavy clouds.

Uncertain as to what to discuss Catrin figited. She told Wil she’d talk to Eira about the wandering...But if she brought it up now he’d only attack their little sister. However Catrin did not want to discuss the reasons why she was not in lessons now.

Awkwardly she leveled her sea green eyes on Eira, opened her lips to start the reminders of Eira’s duty for safety, and promptly shut them.

Catrin did not want to argue.

“I’m so glad you’re both here...It’s so rare I see you at the same time…” A smile, genuine and sweet, was given to Wil and Eira. “It’s so nice.”

Both Gwillym and Eira reacted in the same way, both in the awkward stage of life where though they held a deep love for Catrin and another, they simply did not know how to express it. So it started with Wil snorted, and then Eira laughed a little, and then Wil laughed a little more, until they were both cracking up.

Her happy look of contentment was rapidly changing into one of disgust. Siblings. Just another word for barbarians really.

“You act like this is goodbye.” Eira jested, and Gwillym added.

“Sir Byrn seems content on remaining another week. Please, do not get emotional yet...You girls and your unbound sentiments…”

Catrin actually rolled her own eyes now. Those warm loving feelings were dissipating quickly. Perhaps she had been misunderstanding her feelings? Was it warm and fuzzy and loving or actually itchy and irritated?

“Who are you calling girls? We’re older than you, boy.” Eira responded, her eyes daggering on Gwillym, which was exactly the response he was hoping to draw from her, knowing just what buttons to push with her.

“Catrin, I’ll admit,” He bowed his head toward her, “But I simply cannot believe you are my elder. I honestly think perhaps you stopped maturing six years ago. In mind and body.”

“This coming from the boy who has been dragging around a big stick for years to hit people with…” Back in the day Catrin used to be one his victims, a few wallops coming her way until their father had put a stop to it. What good did it do him if his eldest daughter had bruises on her hands and arms?

Eira pressed her lips together, knowing he was baiting her, and she was smart enough that she knew she shouldn’t bite, but it was right there in front of her, and she had no fear to hold her tongue, at least not to Gwillym, who at worst would raise his voice when he was really impassioned. “You think just because you went off and became a knight-...excuse me, are becoming a knight, that it lends you any more years or wisdom over me, you’re absolutely wrong. You might be bigger, but you and I both know that you might have your share of the brawn, but I, little brother, have all of the brain.”

Sea green eyes swiveled to Eira. “All of the brain?” Cadi quoted sharply.

“Alright. We, We have all the brain.” Eira corrected quickly, having not meant to spur her sister.

That usual sharpened look Gwillym wore directed itself onto his sister, hating when she insulted his intelligence, though he was not daft, he knew he could not compete with her if she wanted to battle wits, and unfortunately, he would never lay a hand on her physically, as much as he might wish to sometimes, “I wish you’d been born a boy, so I’d be able to see how your brain really fairs against my brawn. I-”

But Eira interrupted him, “If I was born a boy I would be the heir, little brother,” Her voice dripped with honey, as it often did when she felt she knew something he did not, “And you’d not touch me, brother. I’d be our sweet father’s favorite.” She dragged the final word out, rolling her eyes along with it, as there was a bit of contempt in her tone, “And if we did fight, I’d be older than you, so I’d be better trained, and you would never win.”

Love? Nice? What had she been thinking?! Cadi reached up to cross her arms over her chest as this ridiculous debate went on before remembering that ladies did not cross their arms. Settling for clasping her hands before her belly the eldest could not hold in a sigh of exasperation.

“I’d still be bigger, and you will never win a fight against me” He stated stubbornly, looking down at her meager height.

“Are you suggesting if I was a man, I would be the same height? That’s ridiculous!”

Gwillym shook his head, the poison leaking from his tone as he lobbed a big dopey smile down at his sister, “No. That’s how it works. If you were a man, you would be your height.”

“And if you were a woman, you would be yours?” She added, annoyed to see how Gwillym grinned and nodded back eagerly, “Well, if you were a woman, you’d be an ugly one at that.”

Perhaps if she just left they wouldn’t notice?

“If you were a man, you’d be a girlish one, and a shame to father. He’d still love me the best. He’d disown you, and name me his heir. It’s only fair, to name the hero of Wales his most beloved son and heir.”

“You think for as large as your head is, you’d fill it with more than just hot air…” Eira snided, to which Gwillym jumped at her for, and the girl screamed, and took off between the rows of books. “Cadi! Stop him! Cadi!” She shouted, laughing between them as she grabbed a few books from the shelves as she ran past, a fast little thing, and tossed them down the aisle at her younger brother, “Wil! No! Leave me alone!” The boy could have easily caught up with her, but he gave Eira a little chase, catching one of the books, and swatting the other ones away.

Widening her eyes as the two started to bolt Cadi looked about to ensure no attendants were nearby to report their childish antics.

“Wil…” Catrin called, albeit half heartedly.

“Don’t throw the books!”

Covering her face with one hand Catrin (at a much more stately pace) followed behind her two barbarian siblings picking up the various books and replacing them randomly on the shelves.

Finally, he paced up with his older, little sister, catching her by the arm and dragging her to a sudden stop, despite her protesting. He pushed her to the floor, admittedly a little roughly, though he’d done far worse in the past. Sitting on her chest, the boy pinned both her hands expertly, grinning, “So-...How’s all the brain helping you in this situation, hm, Eira?” He teased, the girl kicking and twisting roughly.

“Get off me, Wil, this isn’t funny. Were you not just boasting about your maturity?” Eira fought, “ You’re stronger than me, don’t think too much of it, I’m half your size.”

Volumes returned to their ‘proper’ spots Cadi turned to see Wil essentially tackling Eira to the floor. Years of seeing the two fight made their sister barely flinch. Eira was tougher than she looked and Wil would never REALLY hurt her.

“Oh, I know. Are you admitting that brawn is superior to brain then?” He asked, to which the girl shook her head, squirming and pouting, “Alright then. Show me how your brain is going to stop me from spitting on your face.”

“Catrin!” Eira shouted desperately, twisting her face and closing her eyes as Gwillym threatened her, his lips puckered, ready to dribble a long glob of spit on her face, “Get this beast off me! Cadi! Cadi!”

“Enough!” She snapped, her tone sharp and foreboding.

“Wil, Knights are supposed to be chivalrous and above such petty behaviors” Such as spitting on one's sister.

“And Eira, you know full well if you ruin your gown even I cannot save you from mother’s wrath.”

Catrin bent to tug on Wil’s arm so that he might stand again, freeing Eira. Looking about nervously Cadi saw no one else peering over the shelves at them. Luck had been on their side, had not all the lords and knights been in on that council meeting surely her sibling's antics would have been caught.

Black thoughts returned and the brunette bent to give Eira her hand up off the floor. “We should prepare for supper.” She murmured softly.

Gwillym looked over at Catrin as she pulled at his shoulder, his eyes narrow, because she really couldn’t make him get off Eira, and for half a second, he looked like he might just remain. But finally, he sighed, and stood, grinning down at Eira as she stood quickly after with the help of Cadi, and brushed her skirt down, glaring at him.

If he was going to remain, he might be unnerved by the fact that Eira would likely enact her revenge, though he knew his sister was the type who’d spend months plotting, a very patient girl, and he supposed in a few months when he returned, he could worry about what torture awaited him. For now, he was victorious, his hand batted away by the girl, who pulled her scarf back over her face, and turned away from the boy. She acted upset, but Wil knew that by supper, she’d be over it, just needing a few moments to mourn that she’d lost.

In the meantime the boy felt the usual pains of hunger plaguing him often despite the fact that at home, the boy ate at least three large meals a day. But he was growing, as his mother and father insisted, and so he looked forward to the upcoming meal, “Catrin’s right. I’ll go wash up-...Eira, I suggest you should to.” He eyed his sister, “Last thing you need is for father to discover a forgotten grass stain, hm?” He offered, though she was still cross with him, waving the boy’s advice away.

“Thank you, Catrin…” She murmured to her sister, but then made her way out of the library, embarrassed by Gwillym.

The boy could hardly care, grinning like a big dope, and shrugging his shoulders at Catrin, “Wonder what crawled up her skirt…” He remarked, before making his exit as well, overeager as he was reminded of the upcoming meal.

WELSH-ENGLISH BORDER,
TWENTY MILES EAST OF MONTGOMERY....

The sky was dark and grim, storm clouds that were so deeply gray they could pass for black were rolling across the heavens at a swift and menacing pace.
The low canter of thunder rumbled overhead and flashes of lighting could be seen streaking across the dark clouds above in the distance.
A light misty rain drizzled down below onto the massive marching column that was the first of many English armies that would be attacking the insurgent Welsh people who dared stand against the King of England.

This grand army was lead by none other than Sir Rodney Ambrose himself.As for their destination; it would be Montgomery, one of the wealthiest and largest cities in Wales.
In numbers the entire army itself added up to 2,500 men, a grand mixture of militia men levied from numerous towns and cities, seasoned soldiers and veterans, wealthy noble class knights and men-at-arms, and conscripted peasants.

As far as units and classes went, there was roughly an equal balance of calvary, archers, and infantry.
It was overall a well rounded and organized force led by one of England's more experienced and notorious commanders.
Along with his own leadership, Sir Rodney also had a number of his own hand picked lieutenants and captains to directly command the many units and divisions amongst the army, with he himself providing each commander with their own orders to follow and relay to their men.

They marched in a designed and well planned column formation.
The infantry, such as the spearmen, the dismounted knights, the peasants, the pikemen, the militia, and so forth all marched out in front.
The calvary all moved in tow behind them, with Sir Rodney and his officers to the front of the calvary formation.
The archers were the only foot soldiers to take up the rear, marching in their own designated formation.
The supply wagons all were all dead last, and were in a single file line, with several mounted knights riding alongside them as escorts.

The plan for attack was simple, they would march on Montgomery and lay seige to it tonight, cutting it off from the rest of Wales.Come morning they would sally forth and attack and seize the mighty city swiftly and mercilessly, catching Llewelyn off guard and setting back his intended offensive efforts, and forcing Wales onto the defensive side.
Nothing could go awry, their spies said that Montgomery was modestly defended, with less than a thousand Welsh soldiers guarding it.

Rodney was adorned in the finest armor his money could buy.
It was a full plate suit of armor that had a silvery tint to it and the crest of England on the breastplate.
It was sturdy enough to defend from a stout attack, but not too cumbersome that it would restrict movement.
His weapon was a masterly crafted short sword made by the finest smith in London.

His horse was a chestnut that he called Brunner, after his mentor who had died when Rodney was still but a young squire.
Brunner was fast, reliable, and disciplined, a horse of every knight's desire.

The two together made an inspiring image to bolster the spirits of the men around them as they marched on to war on this dark looking day no less.

The men's armor, wether it be pads, leather, or chain mail or plated armor, was moist and dropped water from the light drizzle that had accompanied them for almost an hour now.
The ground, though not muddy nor sludgy, was still slick and slightly slippery, forcing the men, horses, and wagons alike to move at a slow walking pace.

The air was filled with the sound of thunder, drizzling rain, the pinging of water on metal, and the slow rumbling of thousands of men and horses walking in pace together.

Sir Rodney had his helmets visor raised, revealing his face to be slick and his beard dribbled water from it.
He looked up at the ominous clouds above.

What troubles thee Father God, do you not wish that we reach Wales?Have you chosen to favor them?Do you seek to deter us or simply dishearten us?If so, then you shall do neither.
He thought spitefully to himself and himself only.
He dared not to speak such a phrase aloud though, for he would then be believed to be a heretic or server of Satan.
Despite what the clergy and the common man alike believed, Rodney believed that a man mastered his own fate, that no god nor phropechy determined his destiny.
There was no such thing as destiny even, only selective and influenceable progress into the future.
Gods were merely patrons watching from the seating.

Rodney returned his gazed forward as his army trudged onward toward their destination, Montgomery.
We shall write our own tales.He thought to himself.

Dinner later that night:

Listening to the careful chewing, the precise placement of a cup, to the inhaled breath for a word to be spoke and then to be forgotten and a sigh instead escaping… Catrin kept her own expression solemn as she ate. Seated between Wil and Eira it was as if she too sat right on the border, and the uncomfortable, unnatural peace between her two siblings was only enforced by the authority of their parents across the table.

Eating in one of the private rooms afforded the Hywel’s instead of the main Hall Cadi thought her parents were both avoiding the rising tempers of the knights and lords, or perhaps they knew their time with Wil and as a complete family could be coming to an end very soon.

After all...Catrin would have to be married soon, it only made sense. She had heard mention of several agreeable matches coming to Montgomery in the next few months and surely one of them would come to an arrangement.

And even if she remained with her family for a time longer, Wil would not. Battle was coming, England was upon them. It made her heart ache to think of her young brother off fighting for their country. So many did not back whole, or at all.

Then there was the obvious chance that Eira could be sent off to the nunnery.

This private joke cheered Catrin and she smiled, ducking her head demurely so no one would see her unseemly glee at the sedate dinner.

Eira in a habit and coarse woolen clothes... Those poor sisters wouldn’t know what hit them.

Sea green eyes darted over to the ‘sister’ in question and crinkled with an unshown smile.

Eira shifted restlessly in her seat, picking at her food, and every so often, lifting a morsel to her mouth, however she mostly was waiting for her parents to finish their meal and dismiss the girl, really she had no interest in eating with them at all. The silence was uncomfortable, and only furthered Eira’s wish to leave, brown eyes centered on her plate, as she hoped someone would speak up about something, about anything, but she would not risk the lecture she might endure if she was the one to do it. If she was next to Gwillym, she might have nudged him, to try and prod the boy into talking, but when she looked over, instead she caught Catrin looking toward her, a hint of a smile in her eyes.

That only furthered the girl’s frustration, curious on what Cadi had found amusing, but knowing that she could not just ask her. Why she had to bare this torturous formality daily, to sit and dine in silence with her family, Eira would never understand. It was the only time of the day her presence was ever mandatory, and Eira felt even that was excessive. Usually, she would sit in uncomfortable silence while her father lectured, and felt criticized

Guessing at the reason for the pained look on her younger sister’s face Catrin straightened up a bit more and settled her fork on her plate, preparing to diplomatically change the tone of the meal.

Folding her hands gracefully in her lap Catrin coughed softly to draw her father’s gaze. His brow twitched in consent that she might speak.

“Will you and Wil be going on the hunt tomorrow? Perhaps I ought to prepare a basket for your travels?”

Her lips curved sweetly into a smile and her father actually reciprocated. It was a gentle and genteel gesture of her to make, sending her father and brother off to hunt with a basket made by the Lady rather than the servants. And the topic of hunting seemed safe enough, no politics, no marriage, no rules.

It was assumed and understood Catrin and Eira would NEVER go on a hunt with the men,and really why would they want to?!

“A lovely gesture my dear…” Her father grunted as he set down his glass. “The hunt might be cancelled however…” The way he held his lips together tightly let Catrin know she had touched on yet another sensitive subject.

“Another time.” Their mother chimed in before the meal was resumed in silence.

MONTGOMERY, WALES
LATE IN THE EVENING

It was a sound that struck every ear in the city, even those of they who were already in their beds and asleep.
The loud and shrill clanging of the mighty bell in the cities' Abbey.
It wasn't sounding off like it usually was however, in a slow and timely pace like when it was time for congregation for example.
No, now it was clanging and banging in a rapid fashion rather than the more serene dong sound that it was so custom to making.

The bell was accompanied by a grand chorus of frantic and scattered shouting voices, along with the sounds of galloping horses, slamming and banging doors and hatches, and the low rumbling of hundreds, if not thousands, of running feet.

Those that slept were rushing to their doors and windows to see what was the cause of this grand calamity, most adorned only in their sleeping gowns or under garments.

The Welsh soldiers and the night watch were scrambling around through the streets in a frenzy, on foot and horseback alike, and hustling up the walls and crowding along the cities' walls.
Torches and lanterns were lighting up across the city em masse.

The captain of the cities' guard and the local garrison alike, was a short stocky man named Wyndel Laynthe.
He stood even now on the wall alongside his fellow soldiers and the local guards and militia, gazing out towards the east.
He was fully dressed in his half-plate armor with a chain-mail tunic to add to efficiency, and in his hands he gripped his trusty short sword and his wooden shield.
His helmet visor was up, revealing a pudgy face with a scraggly reddish brown beard to accommodate it.

"Lord Above, deliver us."He said aloud in a staunch voice, speaking the thoughts and prayers of his own mind and heart as well as those around him, for they all were staring out at what could only be several thousand English soldiers, a massive army that stood several hundred yards from the main gate, all of them illuminated by the moonlight and the torches they carried.

The English were lined up in a massive column that was nearly as long as the eastern wall of the city, unmoving, stationary, all of them gazing at the massive Welsh city that would soon be their own, it and all the wealth, food, and maidens within.

Sir Rodney sat on his horse out at the front of the column, his visor down over his face, armor glistening in the moonlight in an ominous manor.
He kept his men at bay, as they had just arrived.
If the Welsh planned to sally forth and fight them, they would be ready to defend and follow up with a counter.
If the Welsh did nothing, they would make camp tonight, and attack at sunrise.

On the walls, the Welsh did nought but state and ready their weapons.
Captain Laynthe ordering everyone to hold steady and await to see if the English would make their move.
Yet so far they did nothing, the massive army remained in place, frozen in a defensive deadlock.
Both sides waiting for the other to move first.