The Robber Knight's Secret

60. True Victory

"How could they have reorganized so quickly?" she demanded in a hoarse whisper. "Who is leading them?"

No one answered. The question hadn't been meant for anyone in particular, anyway. Ayla wasn't fool enough to think someone here might have the answer.

Is this it? she asked herself. They are going to attack now, and I'm going to die?

And she had thought herself safe. Hah!

She didn't bother to give any orders. What use was there? Against a force of such overwhelming superiority, they didn't have a hope. Not even the shadow of a hope. They might as well just open the gates.

No! That I will not do! I might not be able to win this fight, but I will not meekly hand over my people to the enemy! Not after all we've suffered together.

As if trying to burn them alive with the pure force of her glare, Ayla stared at the approaching enemy army. They had come back! After everything, they had come back to destroy her people after all. The soldiers didn't seem to be bothered by her glare, so Ayla's eyes slid back up from the army to the black banners fluttering above its heads like crow's wings. And then, she saw something. Something she hadn't noticed before.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Milady?"

"Forgive me, but... Is something wrong with my eyes, or are not all the banners the army is flying black and silver?"

The Captain followed her gaze. "I don't see anything else. But even if there is, it's probably just the flag of some minor noble who is riding with the army."

"I don't think so. I think I saw blue."

"And? Many nobles have blue in their coats of arms. You do, Milady."

"Yes, I do. And I also have white in mine—which I also saw on some of the flags of the enemy army."

Slowly, Linhart turned his face towards her. "What?"

"That army," Ayla told him, pointing towards the approaching menace, "isn't just flying the colors of Falkenstein. They're flying the colors of Luntberg, a white lily on blue ground."

"That can't be!"

"Look for yourself, Captain."

The Captain looked. And then, the Captain's eyes went wide. "Good's aching, festering teeth! You're right, Milady!"

"And that's not all they're flying..." Ayla whispered.

Her eyes had caught on another color. One that fascinated and enraged her altogether more than her own coat of arms. At the very head of the army, just becoming visible as he came out from behind a clump of bushes, rode a standard bearer who held high a very unusual banner: not bearing any coat of arms, it was colored from to bottom and left to right in a brilliant, brutal blood-red.

Behind the standard bearer, towering over him like Goliath over David, rode a huge warrior atop a black stallion. He was muscled as Ayla had only ever seen on one man, but still moved with the grace and elegance of a panther. The sword that hung at his belt was a huge meat cleaver of a thing. His armor was just as crimson as the banner.

He was wearing a helmet, but Ayla didn't need to see his face to recognize him. She thought she could feel his devilish grin even from here.

"That accursed blaggard..." Ayla hissed. "What the heck has he done now? I'm going to kill him!"

Reuben unfastened his helmet, and pulled it off his head. A moment later, his face was free, and there was no longer any doubt: he was grinning, a grin that could chase an army away, or make one follow him.