"How many men did we lose in the skirmish?" King Edward asked his most trusted advisor, Captain Montgomery. "Sir, we lost about two thousand men, including the captain of the 9th division." Montgomery reported, "we should reach Bamburgh in about 3 days, as long as the king of Wales continues to allow us to pass." Edward looked down at the map in front of them, considering the geographical positioning ahead of them. "Here, if we set up camp here, then the deciding battle can take place on this field." Arthur pointed to a hill for them to set up camp on, a swamp surrounding all sides of it except the northern side. To the north of the hill, there was a field, which, to Edward's estimation, could hold around twenty thousand soldiers, about a third of his army. Just past the hill, lies the capital of Northumbria, Bamburgh.
Montgomery stared at the map, considering his King's strategy. "A brilliant plan, my king, I shall execute the orders immediately." Montgomery bowed to Edward and walked to his subordinate's tent. "Howard! Get up, we've got a battle to plan!" Montgomery shouted through the opening in the tent. He looked into the tent and unsurprisingly, Howard was already up and sitting at his desk.
"Sir, I'll help in any way I can." Howard said, standing up and saluting. "Howard, how long have we known each other?" Montgomery asked, a sense of exasperation in his voice, "3 years, sir." Howard replied curtly, "and yet you still continue to address me with such formalities, it is really unnecessary, we're friends, call me Monty." Montgomery said this with so much finality that there was no room to argue, all Howard could do was stare, abashed. "You're right, sorry sir-uh-Monty."
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"Kid! Kid, get up, we're marching soon," a short, bearded man said, shaking Lucas, trying to wake him. "Uh, five more minutes" Lucas mumbled, half asleep. The guy laughed, pushed Lucas off the bed, and walked away. "ughhhh" Lucas groaned, getting up off the floor. "wait, where are we going?!" Lucas shouted out to the man's retreating form. "Bamburgh" was all he got as a reply. 'wait, Bamburgh, as in the capital of Northumbria' Lucas thought to himself, confused, 'that must mean the war is nearly over! All we have to do is take the capital, then Northumbria will be annexed by Wessex!'
Thinking this, Lucas then considered the danger that lied ahead, considering how formidable the Northumbrian soldiers had been so far, and he could only imagine how much more determined they would be to defend the capital city of their home. 'Maybe I should have listened to Arthur and stayed home, at least that way Arthur would still be alive and I wouldn't have to fight in a dangerous battle... Again.' Lucas, riddled with self-doubt, spent the next couple of minutes pondering this, instead of packing, like he was supposed to be doing.
After a few moments of wallowing in self pity, a new determination washed over him, 'If I leave, Arthur's death was for nothing, I'm not going to let that be the case. I am going to fight to help realise the dream that Arthur and I shared, all people will be equal.'
Lucas hurriedly started packing, a sense of purpose now fulfilling him, telling him to keep fighting, if not for himself, then for the millions of villagers and farmers who this army stood for.
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Lucas, surrounded by soldiers, all marching in an organised column toward their destination, looked up to the symbol of not only Wessex, but of hope as well. The White Dragon stood firm atop a golden staff, high in the sky, being carried by one of the King's personal guards. The White Dragon not only stood in front of him, but also adorned every soldier's shield, chest-plate and helmet, in fact, on the rare occasion the King himself charged into battle, he would wear the same crest of his homeland.
Lucas, just realising the fact that he was a day, minimum, away from a gory battle that would forever change the course of English history. After two days of on and off marching, they were so close to the final battle that Lucas almost couldn't bear it anymore. As he was thinking all of this, he saw King Edward raise his hand, signalling a full halt. He said something to Captain Montgomery at his side, and immediately the captain began shouting orders, they were to set up camp and rest a day before heading to their final spot.
Lucas, curious, leant over to the soldier beside him and asked "aren't we in Northern Wales by now? Should we really stop when the Welsh could attack us." The man he had asked, a large and rather intimidating man, looked down at him and said "from what I heard, King Edward has some sort of agreement with the welsh. And besides, what could the welsh possibly do to us, their army is half the size of ours!" The man clearly did not see the Welsh as a threat, so he tried his best to push his unease aside, however all throughout the night Lucas was tossing and turning, unable to escape the thoughts of an attack whilst he slept.
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Lucas did eventually manage to get to bed, albeit an uncomfortable one, and once he awoke he figured he may as well make himself useful, he began to help pack away and organise the supplies, along with packing away the tents and spare weaponry. Before long, they were marching again, towards what was either the start of a new England, or the certain doom of any hope of a reform.