The forest was the maw of a great beast of the earth and into it the company of knights had strode. The shadows danced around the marching horsemen who rode in tight formation with lances raised. Behind them a corps of pike men marched with bowmen following their lead. The old knight Eadwig sat upon his courser overlooking the order of the mounted and unmounted knights and the speed of their two supply wagons and a third for prisoners. His face soured at the sight of the small dirty wagon. If there were as many bandits as King Jeremiah had bragged, then they were sorely under prepared.

	Eadwig dug his heels into the side of the horse and urged her back toward the head. Bandits always lie it was a fact of life. The last great bandit king in these woods was handled by Eadwig and five knights by accident on a night seven years ago. They had rode hard for a day to return Tennelberg to answer the call of the Iron Rose captain and when they at last decided to make camp, they were set upon by fifteen bandits in sack cloth wielding broken swords and farm tools. They turned the survivors over to the bailiff in capital and made for the Iron Rose. [i]‘You were beset by bandits?’[/i] They had asked. [i]‘Fifteen of them. We cut down eight before they came to realize they had made a mistake,’[/i] Eadwig had answered. [i]‘Did you kill a man named Evan?’ ‘Nay, but Evan was one of them. How’d you know?’[/i] They all laughed, [i]‘That bastard was a bandit king. He said he had two hundred men. Why do you think we called the knights back?’[/i] [i]‘For something important,’ Eadwig smiled, ‘Tell the rest of the Order that the five of us defeated two hundred.’[/i] The thought brought a fond smile to Eadwig’s face. A good memory and one of the few to be had in the time leading to the War of the Red Flag. 

	“Sir Aethelmund,” a light armored scout named Philin came beside him as he reached the head of the column. “Captain Fanilly and the vanguard have defeated an ambush.

	Eadwig grunted, “Aye, we are getting close then.” His fist raised and the column came to a halt. “Ride to the rearguard and inform them. Tell them to have riders fan out in search of flanking forces. I want a second rider moving between the center and the rear. Go.” The scout nodded and pushed on at a gallop. Eadwig wheeled around and looked over the small force that made up the center. “I want another scout on our flanks,” He shouted over a low din of conversation and swiftly two young men broke off from the main force and into the forest. “Cavalry split in two and take the flanks.” He pointed out individual standard bearers to their flanks then looked upon the infantry, “Archers take the lead and pike men keep the center, eight of you to the rear just behind the wagons.”

	In a moment the knights were a flurry of movement and activity. Eadwig scanned the forest for just a moment. It smelled as green as the vanguard, but earthy with a tinge of distant smoke. The forces were kicking up dirt in a shuffle of lightly clanging steel and iron. Very few among the knights were in plate armor; it was prohibitively expensive for all but the wealthiest of them, and like Eadwig, most of the men wore coat of plates or brigandines. There would be casualties. He knew this, most great fights had casualties, and King Jeremiah most definitely had more than the fifteen men Evan did. 

	“Jeremiah’s band is near.” He called hoarsely over the shuffling. “Hold to your formations, hold to your training and remember that you are not heroes but a unit. They will break on our pikes and beneath our arrows and lances, and this will be over before sweat starts falling from our brows.” Eadwig beat his chest with a fist, “Iron Rose!” 

	“Iron Rose!” The knight’s repeated in unison.

	“Slow march!” He ordered and the archers started forward with their bows in hand, and the pike men followed in lock step with shields forward. Eadwig rode to the rear of the main to a unit of four mounted knights, “Sir Luthor, take the lead of the main for now. I am riding to the van to speak with the Captain. I will return.”

	“Aye Sir Aethelmund,” Luthor nodded.

	When Phillin the scout returned from the rear, Eadwig waved for the boy to accompany him.  They rode at a quick trot toward the vanguard through. Around them the forest started to close in around them. The branches knitted together above them like tightening loom, and the trees around them were an army of earthen pikes reaching into the sky. Eadwig grimaced, their maneuverability would be hindered.

	He could smell them before he could see them. There was blood in the air, and quite a bit of it. As Eadwig entered, the carnage was readily visible. Twelve bandits lay dead at the feet of the knights, one was cut clean in half. There were five prisoners. Four of them had been frozen in place and Sir Garrett had the fifth.  Tarrya had already ushered the bulk of the van into battle formation, and a smile crossed Eadwig’s lips. Tarrya and Garrett showed tenacity. Eager to prove themselves as commanders, Eadwig had already found the two to be exceptional knights in the training yards. His head nodded toward the two and toward Tyaethe who had been giving her undeath speech. Eadwig recalled his first undeath speech from her and nodded to himself.

	“Captain Fanilly.” Eadwig Aethelmund looked down upon the girl from atop his courser. “The middle and rear are at the ready for the engagement. How do you wish to proceed upon their camp?”This was her fight, not Eadwig’s or anyone else’s. Her first battle would be her most important, and it would seal her reputation among the knights for most of her life.