• The grand army, or what was left od it, marched trough the city gate. A few hundred men in ragged battle dress and dented armor marched as one to the city square. They remaining men of the army formed a massive block of armored steel and hardened muscle. Around them, throngs of people cheered their victory in a seething mass of celebration. The scarlet banner flared in the wind aside a captured green flag. The army saluted, a mailed fist hammered into their breast plates as the king and his wife emerged from the keep.

    "People, soldiers, friends. We have gathered to grant these warriors a place of honor in our minds. But more importantly, we gather to hear thier loses and never forget them. We shall drink to the memory of the fallen, and the victory that have given us!" The kind had raised his fist into the air in a glorious pose. The people cheered and hooted, while the soldiers stomped thier boots or hammered their spears and shields together.

    An older sergeant stepped forward and turned on his heel. He gave the final order of the campain and let the soldiers go to their families. Men in heavy red tonics and steel armor rushed to the edges of the square seeking loved ones. Some sought parents, others children. The king sighed and held his wife as the army disperesed and their son did not come forward. The sergeant stepped forward with a sorrow look on his face.

    "My king, and your ladyship," The soldier saluted. "I, I am sorry to bear such heavy news. Your son fell in battle, slain by an arch. He was pulling a wounded man to safty when he was struck down. I wish I could tak his place."

    The king shook his head, blinking tears back from his eyes. "No, old friend. I have my city, my people's loyalty and trust. I have good soldiers and farmers. If my son gave his life so that a commoner my live, I am proud. My daughter will take the crown when the time comes."

    Behind them, in the shade of the keep's entry way, a young girl looked down at her feet. She looked up sharply at her father's words. "Father? I am but a girl. Who is to be the king?"

    "My dear, you are a woman. Smart, cunning, beautiful. You need no other to rule. Your brother was a good warrior, and you will make a good queen," The king put a hand under the girl's chin and smiled.

    "Aye, my lady. Your wit is a mach twice over for my sword. And if any dares challange your birth right, they shall deal with me," The sergeant said with boldness.

    "Thanks, all of you. Father, if it is your will. I just wish more soldiers could have come back," The girl was now looking at the sqaure, and small groups waited for a brother, son or father who would never return.