A fierce grin appeared on Reindolous's face.[color=f26522] "I'm sure you'll do your father proud. Now let's go show those poor Turnip Bastards why you don't mess with the Royal Army."[/color]

Kal grinned as well, not anticipating the inevitable fight, but rather, enjoying the company of his oldest friend. As they helped each other put on their armor, the others began to wake, putting on their leather vests under chainmail haubergeons, gauntlets, steel-toed boots, and the like. Their helmets were conical helms, with a metal strip down the bridge of their noses, and their shields were painted the traditional blue-and-white four-spaced checker of the throne of Zersal. 

Clearing his throat, Kal held his visored steel helmet in the crook of his arm, and began to speak. [color=Orange]"Listen men. I was going to say something inspiring and blood-boiling to get you roused up. However, Reindolous brought me back to reality. This isn't going to be like any of the games we played as kids. People will die."[/color] At this, the non-veteran soldiers fidgeted uncomfortably. At least, until he continued speaking. [color=Orange]"However, it's my job to make sure it's all of those Turnip Bastards' that are doing the dying today! Men, let's move out!"[/color]

The newer soldiers cheered, and the older soldiers nodded approvingly at both him, and thankfully at Reindolous. He had made sure that, while he knew the risks, he wouldn't charge ahead blindly, and risk all of their lives. Well, it was his job. 

Getting into marching order, the soldiers, clad in clinking steel, and two riding their war-horses, rode into the outskirts of the village, ready for anything.