Heir to the Empire

54. The Battle of Ravenscourt - Ethelston

There was an ominous mist that had descended across the hills at Ravenscourt with only a couple of the trebuchets and siege towers visible in the distance; however, the clanking of metallic armour as the Lionmane army prepared their final formations meant the battle would soon be upon them.

Ethelston glanced over the horizon, desperately trying to gain a glimpse of the vast war machine that planned to sack the city. As the cold autumn sun shone down, the mist was slowly dissipating, but all it would serve was to hasten the army's advance.

Only an hour ago, a section of the eastern wall came crashing down, leaving a heap of rubble and twenty more defenders dead. Still, even before then, Ethelston and Ithelred had begun preparations for the defence of the city.

Despite his arguments against such, Ithelred had taken it upon himself to lead the defensive force on the ground. Ethelston had argued that it was his position as Duke of the castle, but Ithelred's resilience, determination and discipline was everything required to lead the bulk of the army.

This led Ethelston to govern the remaining walls, fight back the siege towers and organise the artillery. It may have felt like an insignificant position, but only a fool would believe so. Each part of the army required the other for any hope of a victory.

Peering through an arrowslit, Ethelston growled at the infernal mist that was butchering his visibility. As he unceremoniously swore at the weather, a young boy with a crossbow in hand looked nervous next to him.

The boy looked incredibly uncomfortable and shuddered as the cold breeze floated around the walls, even more so by Ethelston's disgruntled behaviour.

"You boy, what's your name?" Ethelston asked.

"Drew, milord," he responded nervously.

Ethelston smiled at the boy's obvious trepidation at speaking with the Duke of Ravenscourt. "Drew, aye, I guess this is your first battle?"

The boy, possibly no more than fifteen winters old, nodded enthusiastically.

"I knew a boy once who helped me fight the monstrous Manticore," explained Ethelston, watching as the eyes of Drew grew wide, "he was much the same age as you, yet he was a fearless fighter. Do you think you can be too?"

The boy nodded even more enthusiastically than before. He smiled as Ethelston clapped him on the shoulder before turning around to see if the army had advanced. It was quiet, which was a positive sign.

Walking to the inner edge of the wall, Ethelston looked down to the eight hundred solid Ravenscourt armies that had positioned themselves at the foot of what was left of the eastern wall.

He could not see their faces from his position, but he could hear their grumbles and sense their fear. They were right to be afraid. As things stood, they would have no chance of winning this battle, and should the battle be lost; there was no telling what the Emperor would do to the city. Would he welcome it back into the Empire or leave it in ruins as an example of what happens to those who defy him.

Knight Inquisitor Ithelred had drilled them well. Their formation was solid, their grips on their shields and swords or spears were menacing, but all it would need was for one person to mentally capitulate at the most inappropriate time for the whole battle to be lost in an instant.

Turning towards the boy Drew, he watched as he seemed to already stand much taller after the speech made by Ethelston.

For Ethelston, speeches did little to rouse him, but perhaps it was because of his almost narcissistic belief in his ability. Yet, time and time again, he had seen mere average individuals feel invincible after the right words were spoken.