The dawn came cold and sharp, the kind of morning where frost still clung to the stones and the breath of men rose like smoke. From the courtyards of Blackstone Keep, the sound of iron striking iron filled the air as soldiers strapped on armor, checked their blades, and prepared their mounts.
Cael stood at the head of the assembled host, his cloak snapping in the chill wind. Around him gathered not only the men of Blackstone but also reinforcements from the marshlands and the eastern hills. The banners of several houses flapped proudly, though their owners’ loyalty was still cautious.
Today, they would march north.
The northern villages, small farming communities nestled between the foothills and river valleys, had long suffered under Varrow’s raiders. If Cael could secure them, he woul
