Spring 907 MC*
(*Mercerian Calendar)
The rain came down in sheets, turning the ground to mud as it drenched the Mercerian riders who waited in anticipation. In amongst them, Lord Douglas Fitzwilliam, Baron of Bodden, clutched his sword in preparation while his horse fidgeted, eager to be amongst their prey.
Just ahead trotted the Norland warriors, their horses weighed down by soaked clothes and clinging mud, their eyes glued to the ground before them, unaware of the danger that lurked nearby.
Finally, Lord Douglas swept his sword down, and his riders surged forward, releasing all the pent-up frustration from their day of chasing these raiders. The Norlander"s mounts, swifter than their Mercerian counterparts, had managed to keep their distance until the rain changed the odds. Now in si
