It was a warm morning at Fort Bright.
All of Lord Bright's men were in high spirits. They could feel in the air that a battle was close.
All of them heard the talks of taking back Hartsend. It had been long since they had seen in the Southland's. They could not wait to take back the lands that they fought for so hard. Bret Bright had spent all of his time rebuilding his army and gaining people for his cause. Cormag had grown weak throughout the time, he could not protect the South much longer if they had wished to enter at the time of one ruling. They would have had to get rid of the old high Lords, such a task would not be easy. The first task would be taking over the South.
"The fool Cormag is weak, we invade within the next week," Lord Bright said to the man sitting across from him. Bret had chosen to wear his golden tunic. Short grey hair sat on his head, almost enough to tell that he was forty-seven years old. The crows-feet surrounding his eyes had become more prominent everytime he looked himself in a mirror. He was a well-built, moderate height man.
"I agree, my Lord. The time is upon us. I will make the last arrangements with my men," a man in a dark black robe replied to him, all features of his face hidden.
"You and your men have helped me well w When we retake the South, the guild will be yours," Lord Bright said to the mystery man.
"I care not for the guild but only for the lands which it stands on. My men and I can accomplish a lot from those lands," the hooded man said in a voice so calm that it brought a wisp of fear into the room.
Lord Bret walked out to the balcony of his room, looking out over all of his men.
"We seem to be even stronger this time around," Bret said to himself.
"We will win the South and we will destroy the poor weak Cormag," Bret said with a smirk.
There was a sudden knock on the door.
"Come in," Lord Bret shouted.
"Father, we are ready to set the plan into action," Brandon Bright said.
Brandon was the son of Bret and had a tactical mind that could bring the world to its knees.
"Good. Send the men down to the Southern Kingdom. We will make our move there," Bret said to his son.
"The South Kingdom is too close to Hartsend," Brandon said with worry in his eyes.
"Cormag believes we are in a time of peace, his men do not travel that far," Bret said, reassuring his son.
"I'll lead the party as we discussed, father," Brandon replied.
"Not this time son," Bret said looking at Brandon.
"Who will lead the party then father?"
His father always knows best.
"He is already with our target, my son. A man from the shadow guild one of our hooded friends."
"I do not trust these men father, they come to us out of nowhere to help you with your quarrels and they want just the guild in return?" Brandon asked his father, seeming very confused.
"The guild provides a tremendous wealth for Cormag and any man who would not want that is a fool," Bret said to his son, looking him dead in the eye.
"It' is wealth which fuels this war son. It is gold that makes the world turn and has the power to bring it to its knees," Bret started to raise his voice.
"All any man wants is gold and I will be the man to provide that gold to all men of ambition," Bret said as he slammed his fists onto the table.
Brandon said nothing, he only stood up and started walking away.
"Your son fears us," a voice said seemingly from nowhere.
"He will understand what you bring to the table in due time," Bret said looking off to the shadowy corner.
"Your boy needs to trust us. If you fall in this battle he will take your debt," the hooded man from before moved slowly from the shadow.
"There will be no debt. You will get the guild and the boy," Bret said to the man.
"Good. The boy will be sold to a slaver up North. He seems strong, he will fetch a good price," the hooded man said.
"And will the boy be seen again?" Bret asked the man.
"Never will he be seen again. The Islanders do not take kind to people they do not trust," the hooded man said, crossing his arms under his hood.
"Yet somehow they trust a man they can barely see," Bret pointed out, sitting down and crossing his arms aswell.
"Some men see ambition with different eyes my Lord," the hooded man said, again sliding of into the shadow. "And the world will soon see your ambition too my Lord" he added, vanishing off completely into the shadow.
"They will see it burn bright," Bret said with a smirk. With the sound of steel behind him, he sat and drew a long breath.
"Soon it will all be mine," Bret Bright whispered. "And Cormag will pay for sending my father back as a corpse," Bret clenched his fists.
Bret thought of the days of the war.
It was in the war of the South that Cormag took Hartsend from the Bright family. Bret urged his father, Lord Conor Bright, not to take part in the battle. He urged his father to leave the battle with him. But a Lord would never fail to show up to the battlefield. A real Lord would fight, Conor Bright thought. His pride got the better of him.
Bret could see that they were going to lose and he knew he would have to leave. He gathered as much of their kin as he could and off they went to find new lands. But his father would not leave the battlefield. He rode into the centre of the battlefield, trying to swing at Cormag and his men but all attempts had failed. A sword to the throat of Conor Bright's horse as he rode past was the cause of him to fall into the dirt, right next to his horse.
Blood poured from his leg and one could see through his armour and trousers. Cormag stood over him and a thrust through Lord Bright's chest came from Cormag's sword, known as The Heart Of The South. And the life left Bret's father. Cormag knew what he had done, and he was a proud man because of it. It was for the better, he would say to himself. Not an ounce of guilt went through his body that day.
"Cormag will die," Bret said as his thoughts trailed back to the present moment.
"All of them will die."