Arrows arced towards them in a rough but widespread volley. The slick sounds of the missiles sinking into flesh was drowned out by the louder noise of them embedded and bouncing off armor, and the even louder warcries of the Western Knights as they advanced. Their horses thundered down the mellow slope, before splashing through shallow river. Rylen had been Knighted not 3 months ago, and had been given his own company of horseman, 200 strong. 

Only a scant dozen had fallen before they had crossed the river, but their armor held strong and the milia force they fought now were mostly mere conscripts with hunting bows. They lacked the firepower to punch through the thinnest parts of their armor, only a few lucky shots slipping through the vulnerable areas. 

The town had made a hastily built barrier and trench for the folk to set their spears upon and mount a defense. Rylen waved to his unit, and they followed his orders. Fifty on each side swung left and right to flank the enemy as Rylen and his men dismounted, using the sparse trees between the village and the river as cover, before charging forward with their swords and shields. Twenty minutes later, the small town past the river barrier was theirs. 

It had been taken once before, but the Westerners had been pushed back. It was only a single village, but it was across the no man's land. The forward vanguard of the entire west. The villagers and militia there were spared, if they surrendered. Their food stuffs were taken, and men began to set up the perimeter. In the distance, down a rolling forested hill further east, a large city loomed.
[@SlashInfinite]