[b]WELSH-ENGLISH BORDER, 
TWENTY MILES EAST OF MONTGOMERY....[/b]

The sky was dark and grim, storm clouds that were so deeply gray they could pass for black were rolling across the heavens at a swift and menacing pace.
The low canter of thunder rumbled overhead and flashes of lighting could be seen streaking across the dark clouds above in the distance.
A light misty rain drizzled down below onto the massive marching column that was the first of many English armies that would be attacking the insurgent Welsh people who dared stand against the King of England.

This grand army was lead by none other than [u][url=https://postimg.org/image/go5oxymet/]Sir Rodney Ambrose[/url][/u] himself.As for their destination; it would be Montgomery, one of the wealthiest and largest cities in Wales.
In numbers the entire army itself added up to 2,500 men, a grand mixture of militia men levied from numerous towns and cities, seasoned soldiers and veterans, wealthy noble class knights and men-at-arms, and conscripted peasants.

As far as units and classes went, there was roughly an equal balance of calvary, archers, and infantry.
It was overall a well rounded and organized force led by one of England's more experienced and notorious commanders.
Along with his own leadership, Sir Rodney also had a number of his own hand picked lieutenants and captains to directly command the many units and divisions amongst the army, with he himself providing each commander with their own orders to follow and relay to their men.

They marched in a designed and well planned column formation.
The infantry, such as the spearmen, the dismounted knights, the peasants, the pikemen, the militia, and so forth all marched out in front.
The calvary all moved in tow behind them, with Sir Rodney and his officers to the front of the calvary formation.
The archers were the only foot soldiers to take up the rear, marching in their own designated formation.
The supply wagons all were all dead last, and were in a single file line, with several mounted knights riding alongside them as escorts.

The plan for attack was simple, they would march on Montgomery and lay seige to it tonight, cutting it off from the rest of Wales.Come morning they would sally forth and attack and seize the mighty city swiftly and mercilessly, catching Llewelyn off guard and setting back his intended offensive efforts, and forcing Wales onto the defensive side.
Nothing could go awry, their spies said that Montgomery was modestly defended, with less than a thousand Welsh soldiers guarding it.

Rodney was adorned in the finest armor his money could buy.
It was a full plate suit of armor that had a silvery tint to it and the crest of England on the breastplate.
It was sturdy enough to defend from a stout attack, but not too cumbersome that it would restrict movement.
His weapon was a masterly crafted short sword made by the finest smith in London.

His horse was a chestnut that he called Brunner, after his mentor who had died when Rodney was still but a young squire.
Brunner was fast, reliable, and disciplined, a horse of every knight's desire.

The two together made an inspiring image to bolster the spirits of the men around them as they marched on to war on this dark looking day no less.

The men's armor, wether it be pads, leather, or chain mail or plated armor, was moist and dropped water from the light drizzle that had accompanied them for almost an hour now.
The ground, though not muddy nor sludgy, was still slick and slightly slippery, forcing the men, horses, and wagons alike to move at a slow walking pace.

The air was filled with the sound of thunder, drizzling rain, the pinging of water on metal, and the slow rumbling of thousands of men and horses walking in pace together.

Sir Rodney had his helmets visor raised, revealing his face to be slick and his beard dribbled water from it.
He looked up at the ominous clouds above.

[i]What troubles thee Father God, do you not wish that we reach Wales?Have you chosen to favor them?Do you seek to deter us or simply dishearten us?If so, then you shall do neither. 

[/i]He thought spitefully to himself and himself only.
He dared not to speak such a phrase aloud though, for he would then be believed to be a heretic or server of Satan.
Despite what the clergy and the common man alike believed, Rodney believed that a man mastered his own fate, that no god nor phropechy determined his destiny.
There was no such thing as destiny even, only selective and influenceable progress into the future.
Gods were merely patrons watching from the seating.

Rodney returned his gazed forward as his army trudged onward toward their destination, Montgomery.
[i]We shall write our own tales.[/i]He thought to himself.