When morning came it came with a wave of uncertainty and nervousness that seemed strange to the world that we had forged in the heart of the West Weald. There were many, myself especially who did not receive much sleep during the dark hours and the word had spread faster than what should have been possible. By the time dawn arrived and the scattered cockerels let everyone within earshot know just how large of arseholes they were, there were very few people still asleep. Men and women darted and moved about between tents and those within the martial of pursuits busied themselves with their equipment. I had personally spent a majority of the night with my mind running wild, hunched over my ebony armour polishing under weak candlelight until the silvery vine etchings gleamed and the ebony was as dark as the night itself.

  Despite dressing before the sun had begun to rise I found myself pacing up and down, struggling and trying to understand exactly how I felt about the situation. In the end I gave up, moving through the tent lines and ensuring that preparations were made. The Men-at-arms were ordered to dress themselves in whatever armour they had been provided`, and the Knights of the Order were similarly prepared. Sentries were placed further out in the forest, the handful of hunters and woodsmen assisting the order providing look out for the Duke and his entourage which gave us plenty of time to react once word of his approach reached us.

  The noble messenger who had brought word in the evening had rode off in first light to guide his liege back and I found myself fighting and twitching uncomfortably in my armour as I stood in front of the two rows of Knights. The Men-at-arms were also lined up to my right in a neat three ranks with Carodus out front and the twins placed on the flanks instead of how Alexi and Viconia were right by my side.

  We heard their approach far before we saw them, the haunting notes of horns echoing out of the forest a hundred metres to our front and it wasn’t long after that we caught sight of movement within the greenery. Colours began to bloom within the forest, growing and spreading like the re-emergence of spring. Men and horses, pennants waving in the wind and dozens of heraldic tabards and surcoats were visible, both on foot and riding on a collection of warhorses. Somehow, despite the presence of Alexi and Viconia I found myself clenching my fists in an attempt to keep from shaking.

  Every man, woman and child who had called the Priory their home for the past weeks were gathering around behind the armoured ranks of knights and Men-at-arms, peering and talking in a swell of noise as the column approached. There were easily just as many knights and infantry approaching us as there was within the Order of the Nine, and if anything there were also just as many in the baggage train behind them. It was an imposing sight and one that was only added to by the fact that the lead cavalry raised their horns to their lips and blew another throbbing note into the sky.

  The messenger from the night rode forward on his charger, the hooves churning up clods of earth and he came to a halt in the rough centre of the Order’s troops. There was none of the initial nervousness that he had shown after he had realised my identity and he raised himself high in the saddle, his boots locked into his stirrups as he called out over the crowd before him.

  “May I present Duke Bradelc Weylinille Stenanius de’Leorion the third. Son of Duke Varlius Morglyn Galenick de’Leorion. Lord Marshal of Wayrest. Blessed of the house of Maumaulese. Champion of Lainlyn. Lay-brother of the Knights of the Horn…”

  The lead horses of the column reached the closest Men-at-arms and I caught the look of calculated mischief on Carodus’ face a moment before I realised his intentions. In that moment I struggled not to break out into the largest of grin’s as the retired Centurion dragged in a lungful of air, projecting a voice honed from decades on the battlefield from the depths of his belly into the air with frightful intensity.

  “Cohort! Atten-SHAR!”

  I found myself in awe not only in the fact that he managed to startle a trained warhorse with his voice, but also because the Order’s infantry moved with immaculate precision, crashing their heels together and bracing themselves in full armour. All of the back-breaking training that Carodus had been putting the men and the women of the Order through proved its worth and I fought down a satisfied smile and the number of heads turning towards the Men-at-arms.

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  The column kept advancing, five horses abreast and the infantry in rows of six behind but they were more than close enough to start picking out details amongst the number. Most of the mounted cavalry were Bretonnic knights, their heraldry a mixture of colours and makes but a majority were a deep honey-yellow with a bull’s head on a maroon shield. Most of their number consisted of these particular knights and so did a large number of their accompanying infantry and it was obvious that they hailed from the same Order.

  I could hear Alexi fidgeting by my side as he tried to remain standing still while trying to get a better view of the knights as they approached. They were moving with a noticeable precision as they shifted into the centre of the L shape that the Order of the Nine’s Knights and Men-at-arms formed and before our eyes the host arrayed themselves into a collection of three neat ranks directly facing the Priory. The honey-yellow Knights occupied the front rank with their infantry continuing to remain at the rear but our eyes were soon drawn to a handful of individuals moving ahead of the rest.

  Atop their enormous chargers, a trio of Knights moved forward with a handful of attendants remaining behind. A small cluster of infantry wielding halberds was locked in a perfect square between the trio and the rest of the horsemen but for the moment they remained as still as boulders, turning and facing outwards in what was obviously a defensive posture. The Knights however continued until they had moved past the infuriated herald staring daggers at Carodus who was standing in a legion textbook stance of attention; one hand holding his gladius perfectly vertical against his thigh, the other holding his shield so that it wrapped around his left side.

  If I didn’t know that a Duke was arriving there would have been no mistaking the royalty of the men before us. The central individual was clad in gold-lined plate and the make of his clothes were far in excess of anything we owned, even those that Viconia had purchased with the treasures we had acquired in our adventures. The other two were just as overwhelmingly opulent despite their martial nature, and I heard Alexi’s hiss of recognition as they made their stately way towards us.

  “That’s Cedrccer Wirile.” He growled and it was the first time I could feel the tingle of anticipation in my spine at the wariness of his tone.

  “Friend of yours?”

  Even without the luxury of being able to turn I could picture Alexi’s expression as he stared at the Knight wearing the bull’s head heraldry. “We’ve crossed swords a few times. He’s a daedra of a swordsman and don’t trust him as far as you could piss him.”

  With his warning still resounding in my mind I looked over the three mounted knights, seeing the scowl and a deep facial scar on the features of Sir Wirile. The scar itself was obviously from a downwards blow of a sword that had narrowly missed blinding him and there was no doubt that the dark haired Breton was a dangerous fighter. He sat in his saddle like his was born to it and had all the watchfulness of a hawk seeking prey.

  The Duke was somehow even more opulently dressed and the cost of the silks in his surcoat would have provided enough coin for the outfitting of every Man-at-Arms in the Order of the Nine. His plate armour was almost artwork than protection and every piece had obviously been custom made for him before being etched and detailed so heavily that there was not a single millimetre without some decoration. A stern, emotionless expression stared out of a padded chainmail coif that had been plated in gold and held in place with a silver band around his forehead as a symbol of his title. There was no possible way that anyone could mistake his authority or identity and as they came to a halt I thudded my fist into my chest and bowed.

  “My Lord. Welcome to the Priory of the Nine.”

  After a pregnant pause and the sudden hush of silence that fell over the area, I slowly and carefully rose while trying to keep my nervousness and sudden unease at their presence and scrutiny. When I lifted my eyes to the Duke I could not see any sign that he had heard or even taken note of my greeting, instead looking over the rows of tents and construction and the hundreds of people gathered for his arrival.

  “My thanks Sir Desin.” He said finally, having completing his inspection of the area and showing no sign of his thoughts or feelings in the slightest. As a pair of servants quickly moved over he handed the reins of his steed over to one, turning and sliding out of the saddle onto a stool that the other had been carrying with an extreme ease. “Is this the entire Order?”

  My nervousness was threatening to overwhelm me but I nodded, trying to clench my fists without making it obvious in an effort to force the tremors out of my arms. “Yes my Lord.”

  “Good.” stepping towards me but looking over the crowd and the knights at my back he gave a tiny hint of a nod. “I am Duke de’Leorion! By the grace of the Nine, the right of my title and my deeds I have been granted command of this Order!”