The Will Of The Kings.

Defeated Heroes. Part 2.

William stepped out of his hall and up onto the old hay cart, which had found employment in its retirement as his podium when addressing the field hands. William was the Harvest Warden for the farmland that bordered the south road. The vast swathes of land that fed the city and its population were divided into wards and Williams's family had been wardens on this land for five generations. He was not a tall man and was of slender build, which baffled some of his closest friends, for he was fond of his food and never seemed to put on an ounce of weight. He lifted himself onto the cart and turned to the crowd, wearing patched trousers, a white shirt, and a pair of well-worn boots. These were the clothes he was most comfortable in, but as a warden he was lucky enough to also own a tailored suit that only came out on special occasions. He stood for a while as the crowd turned to face him. He was well respected, if not always liked, in his community.

Gathered in front of him were all his farmhands, and their families, together with at least one person from that family, who lived and worked in and around William's ward. To have them all in one place was rare. The farmhands had shifts to work and the others had jobs to do, but William had sent word to make sure as many people as possible were present. He did not want to have to repeat himself thousands of times, so if they were not here, they would have to hear the King's words from someone else.

"Settle down", he began in a firm, clear voice. The final murmurs subsided, and his audience waited. "I have been given the duty to summon you and present the King's words". William paused to hold up the scroll that he had been holding firmly in his hand. He squinted to read the words; his eyes were not as good as they had been. He read aloud the Royal Command, which he had read so many times that he virtually knew it by heart. He had done so partly out of disbelief, but mostly to ensure that he understood what had been written, and to prepare himself for the questions that would undoubtedly arise from the forthcoming announcement.

"Citizens and countrymen", he announced. A loud cheer went up at the mention of countrymen. There was a clear social divide between those who considered themselves citizens and those who considered themselves countrymen, both sides proud of their standing. William waited for them to settle down, ensuring he had their attention.

"We are at war with the lesser Kings, whose land lays south of Farnbreth, over the Black Water." The crowd gave an uninterested murmur. There was nothing remarkable in that news. Over the years, the lesser Kings had moved north, and as a result they would be beaten and bloodied until they fell back or were utterly defeated. They were little more than chiefs of ragged clans, pitched against the might of Farnbreth, the largest kingdom west of the White Mountains. William read on.

"This has been proclaimed before, and our strength has seen our land remain safe, but the winds have changed for us. The lesser Kings have joined together under one who calls himself Borrock. It is he who has advanced over the Black Water, and events have prompted me to make this declaration to my people. It has come to my attention, as all things do in time, that there are many rumours and stories to be heard about our war. I say these words as your king, to quash all stories and rumours with facts."

It had been a little over a month since the army had marched through the city to their barracks in such a state that rumours and wild stories had spread like fire through Farnbreth. A fire driven by a strong wind of fear gathering in the minds of the people, confusing them with endless tales of woe. Balor, who stood next to the wagon, had heard many of these tales. Some said that the poor state of the army they saw upon their return was a trick to fool their enemies. Others said it was a sign of their doom. Balor had relayed some of these accounts to William, but although William would sometimes show concern, he would often scoff at such stories, saying "only believe what you can smell, see, and touch yourself. If the forts still stand, we are safe." That would always set Balor's mind at rest.