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Chapter 59

Chapter 59: Siege of Stilwood Part 1
...
Richard POV

The morning sun stretched its golden fingers across the plains. I sat astride Lancelot at the edge of the forest near Stilwood Keep.

The fortress loomed in the distance, perched atop a hill, its stone walls stark against the open expanse surrounding it.

Thirteen knights flanked me, their armor glinting in the light, their silence heavy with anticipation.

Together, we waited.

Far ahead, seven riders approached across the plain.

One carried the banner of my house, the black-and-gold lion rippling faintly in the breeze.

These were the knights I had sent to negotiate a parley with Lord Jamond—a mission I already knew had failed.

Earlier, from my vantage point, I had watched their futile attempt.

My knights had spoken, their voices rising toward the battlements, only to be met with cold words and contempt.

Arrows had flown from the keep's walls, forcing them to retreat.

Jamond's defiance wasn't surprising; cowards often mistake obstinacy for bravery.

As the riders drew closer, their movements steady and unhindered, I noted no trace of blood.

Their mission had failed, but they had escaped unscathed.

Within minutes, they reached us and dismounted swiftly, saluting with fists pressed to their chests.

I returned the gesture with a measured lift of my hand.

"I presume there will be no negotiation," I said, my voice calm, laced with steel.

One knight stepped forward, removing his helm to reveal the young face of Ser Alfred Parren.

He shook his head, his disappointment clear.

"My lord," he said, his voice steady but subdued, "Jamond refused. He declared that every man within his walls would die before yielding."

I nodded, my expression unmoved. "As expected. A coward's bravado only hastens his end."

My knights exchanged glances, their faces hardening, anticipation kindling in their eyes.

For two days, these men—my elite—had been held back, their prowess unneeded in the smaller skirmishes.

Now, their time has come.

"Prepare yourself, today you'll see action," I said, my tone resolute.

Ser Alfred bowed his head, his youthful eyes blazing with determination.

Around me, the others straightened in their saddles, the thrill of purpose coursing through them like a silent battle cry.

I turned Lancelot toward the forest trail leading back to camp, my men falling into formation behind me, their horses moving with practiced precision.

The ride was brief.

We soon emerged into the clearing where our camp stood, hastily constructed the night before.

Cheval de frise bristled along the perimeter, a wall of sharpened stakes to deter any assault.

Infantrymen patrolled the barriers, their eyes sharp, their steps purposeful.

At the sight of me, the guards saluted and moved quickly to clear the barricade.

Inside the camp, the air buzzed with industry.