Words came out of the mouth of the guard, standing high up on the wall while wearing a bowl steel helmet that had gone cold by the cold air from the north, "Who goes there?!"
In the direction which he shouted was a petty army of men, gathered from four various tribes. Standing on their feet or sitting on horseback, having swords in their hands or bows, or even spear, though, with all the differences, they were united by one man.
Frigs, his sword inside the scabbard hanging tight on his waist, covered by thick fur to protect him from the cold much like others behind him, "I am Edward of house Mercia!!"
Suspicious glare directed toward him, soon it was diverted when Robert, practically the commander of the border wall, had made his way up onto the wall.
A slight smile formed on his face and he shouted, "Open the gate!"
