The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Four: Departure to the West

By the time the sun had begun to rise the next day, Captain Noc had gotten together two thousand soldiers of the Brukalil Legion; what was considered to be the tip of the spear of the Litici army. They were an all-purpose legion, a tight-knit band of brothers and sisters that have sworn their lives to defend the King. Originally, they were a group of peasants from all corners of the Kingdom that came together to fight for King Harros Litikus I in his war against the Userian City-state Carhgo when the nobility would not. In the centuries since, they have evolved into one of the most well-trained and ferocious group of professional soldiers on this side of Gariel's Wall, if not the world. Their only equals could possibly the great Knight's Guild Mercenary Army and the Ferocious Sanite Warriors of Spartica.

            Noc was skeptical about the Prince leading her and the legion. As far as she knew, he has never been in a real fight, and hardly ever near battlefield. He was only twelve when the Corasian War broke out, and spent most of it safe behind the walls of Raenna. Poor experience for what Freedmir told awaited them. Like watching his father slaughter a sow to prepare for a boar hunt. And the Westlander fool Jon Malken was coming along; she did not even want to think about that.

            In the courtyard of the palace, right below from which prince Tauron was looking the day before, the army assembled. Nine hundred Brukalil soldiers, plus an additional two thousand and two hundred footmen stood at attention under the Captain's scathing eye. She patrolled the front of the ranks, inspecting each soldier briefly. Both the Brukalil and the regulars knew of the Captain's keenness on order, and nearly every soldier felt their nerves freeze when she walked by.

    This was but a small fraction of the army the Prince expected to conjure once they reached the Westland. On the way there they would pick up soldiers from Archbaron Clayton Blackwell, one of three vassals of Duke Amos Velrock, as well as the armies of the Duchy of Forthren and the Westland itself. In total, Noc expected that the Prince would have at least thirty-thousand when he met the Morcars in battle. Most of the Litici army was made up of peasants called in from the field to fight. While waiting to join the Prince, they will enter a period of training lasting from a few weeks to two months. By then, they will be ready to face the enemy. The elite soldiers of any Litici army were the knights, those charged with the sacred duty to uphold the laws of the Gods and the King, and to protect those that cannot protect themselves. 

            On one end of the yard was the passage into the palace, and the other opened to the drawbridge that crossed the castle moat into the the city itself. Because the walls have never even been close to being breached, the moat was hardly prepared. The courtyard was silver in the dawn's early light, and the statue of the Rannos Liticus, the first King of Liticea stood foremost to greet those who entered.

            The loud groan of the doors to the palace opening rang through the Courtyard. The sound of the heavy end of a spear hitting the marble followed, "Baron Jon Malken!" the guard called out. The minute figure of Malken stepped out and with a proud stride made his way down the stairs that led into the yard, with Freedmir following closely in his steps. Captain Noc stood near the base of the stairs and stood at attention with her arms behind her back, her rounded shoulders giving her a masculine appearance. She carefully avoided Malkenl's eye. His slumping shoulders and receding red hair looked more pitiful than she remembered.

            "Captain Noc," he spoke, stopping in front of the Captain, "A fine looking force you have assembled this morning. Are they as prepared as they look?"

            "Yes, Lord Malken!" the captain almost choked on the words, but she remained at attention.

            "Excellent!" Malken exclaimed, clapping his hands together, "I expect nothing less from the great Brukalil Legion."