The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Fifty-One: The Feast at Grapevine Hall

There was a rumor floating around the campground the next morning that Katheryne Bryn's song was an enchantment, for the sun was shining bright and the snow was melting. It is known as a 'false storm,' a night where the brunt of winter seems to arrive, but the next day it is like the first day of spring. There are one or two of these during every winter. They are pleasant breaks, but every person knew that it only delayed the inevitable.

Delayed was the proper word used to describe that morning. the melting snow soaked the ground and turned the road into a mudbath. Every step taken had the risk of sending the soldier's foot sliding and their backsides into the ground. Wagons, that were carrying only two days rations, were abandoned and the supplies strapped to the backs of soldiers. They would not have to carry them long. It was one day's march to the House of Bryn and another half day back to Talonwood.

In the back of his mind, Rengle wondered if he had made a mistake in leaving such a poultry force of no more than five hundred at Talonwood. This snowfall gave him comfort. The path up the hill would be completely untraversable and he made sure to leave behind enough archers so that the Morcars would be given hell if they tried. Now with Olsen Ryd turned around, he could return to his original post and keep the horde from descending on the Prince. Rengle was curious if the Prince was even aware of what was going on. He most likely knew well of Olsen's treachery, but what will his reaction be when he learns Rengle took down half his army and drove him back. By the Gods, Rengle thought. A grin came to his face when he imagined what glory awaited him upon his return home. He not only grinded the advance of the seventy-thousand strong Morcar army to a halt, he also crushed a rebellious Lord in a single battle. He could only imagine the face of Yorod Dayvey IV as the man he despised gained more and more glory, whilst he rotted away in a bath of wine in the shadow of his younger brother.

"No!" Rengle said out loud to himself. Once in a while he permitted himself to indulge in the glory he had won. But once the time had passed, he brought his focus back onto what it should be; victory. He needed to only remember Yorod's debacle at Brother's Crossing to be reminded not to mindlessly chase after glory. It had almost cost the future Duke of Forthren his life, though many would not mind.

All thoughts now turned to winning this war, keeping his son alive and the army intact. Most of all, returning home to Ruska, where the smiling face of Horace and the gentle eyes of Jenny were waiting for him.

"Would you mind if I rode beside you, Sir Jergan?"

The Fallaner family rode near the front of the army with the rest of the Ruskamen. Katelyn and her daughter rode with them as a guide to her mother's land, while Osbyrn stayed back with their soldiers as well as Nakbar's company.

Jergan was riding quietly alongside Locke. Neither of them spoke much of the previous day, other than Locke trying to recall how many men he killed. Jergan was in no mood for talking and Locke knew it. When he did not want to talk, he turned to stone. Much like his father. A quiet ride all the way to Grapevine would have suited him nicely for the day, but now Katheryne pulled her little chestnut mare beside him and asked for his attention like a beggar asking for coin.

"Not at all, my Lady," he spoke, careful not to make eye contact. He prayed to Rathas himself that she would not try to speak to him.

"I would like to say, It was very brave of you to fight the traitors like you did."

He shifted his gaze towards Locke's eyes and called on him to help. The heir of Horcaster got the message, but he shook his head and drifted away from the other two riders. Jergan knew he killed at least one man who was sneaking up behind the big knight. Could he not repay his debt by wooing Katherine away from him.