14 April, 1360. East of the River Caine, Northern Islia
William sat on a flat grey rock near the riverbank, his blood splattered helmet at his side as he surveyed the scene in front of him with bleak eyes.
For the first time in decades, the Royal Army of Islia had been routed by Moraigth. He could scarcely believe it.
All around him, William could see dozens and dozens of his men, some injured, some simply dazed with the shock of what had just happened.
It was almost impossible to understand.
Undiscovered by King Edward's spies, King Kenneth had engaged hordes of barbarian warriors from Moraigth's wild northernmost regions to join his army and help fight the Islians. The barbarian tribes held the misguided belief that to die in battle would bring a man eternal glory in the afterlife, no matter how debauched or godless his life had been before that.
