Version 2.0
The morning sun heralded the arrival of the second day of battle. In the camps, preparations were underway for the upcoming day of conflict as the king gathered in a tent.
"Alright then, Brandon, you called us here. What do you want?" Edwyn Slate asked as he rubbed a raw scar that ran from his lip to his chin.
"We both know that we need to kick Gareth off his hill; otherwise, this battle will never end."
"No shit," Edwyn retorts.
"While you were battling through his forces yesterday, he was willing to sacrifice more troops that he needed to stop you probably to capture you. He wants to end this war so let us give him that chance. If we both move together, he won't be able to resist."
"Ha fat chance that will work," he grumbles. "It is too obvious a trap for him if we bait ourselves out to him like that."
"Which is why we need to make him want to," Brandon explains. "We lay a trap for him that he springs. We combine our men to attack as a driving force down his centre, making it look like we want to cut through the centre. When he goes for the bait like he did to you yesterday, we spring a trap. Before our battle, we leave some of our men out of the fight, when he marches, we quickly move around his flank. If this works, he won't have any men in reserve to block them from moving up his hill."
"They can attack from his sides and also take his command post. If they take down his flag and put ours up, his men will start to waver, losing morale," Edwyn says, a broad smile courses his face. "Let's do it."
After finalizing their plan, Brandon divided his forces into three parts. He positioned himself at the centre, assigned Theon to command the right flank, and gave Edric control of the flanking counterattacking force. With preparations set, Brandon took a walk around the camp, observing his men.
As Brandon walked through the bustling camp, he watched his men go about some laughing and some looking after their friends. Some sharpened weapons, while others rested against tents, exchanging stories or laughing heartily as the smell of cooking fires wafted through the air, blending with the scent of leather and sweat.
As Brandon walks, he focuses more on the friends taking care of each other. Many wounds were left haphazardly treated, with more serious injuries left to the hope of recovery. Friends cared for each other's wounds often just covering the injury with some torn clothing. Brandon shakes his head committing it to memory before moving on.
Soon orders echoed through the camp in a rallying call, drawing the attention of the men scattered among the tents. As Brandon continued his observation, he witnessed the swift response of his soldiers. They quickly finished up their various activities and formed into organized groups, the clatter of armour and weaponry signalling their readiness for battle.
Brandon stands straighter looking at his men and their preparations, as they quickly, without complaint, moved to their squads. He cast a last sweeping glance across the encampment, before joining the ranks himself.
/
The Slate King, adorned with his freshly fixed armour, stood beside Brandon. Together, they led their forces forward and up the hill their synchronized footsteps creating a rhythmic pulse that echoed through the open field.
The line quickly moved and then engaged the Locke King's army, the battlefield erupted into chaos as the initial clash erupted. Spear clanged against spear, and the shouts of men mingled with the clamour of bronze on bronze. It was once the lines had clashed for a whilst Brandon and Edwyn moved with their household guards to pierce the central line.
With their house banners waving like defiant flags, Brandon and the Slate King charged into the fray, leading there from the font. Armed with superior equipment and honed combat skills, they cut through the Locke King's less-trained levies like a hot knife through butter.
True to expectation, the Locke King's eyes were quick to see their moving flags before Gareth smiled. Swift to respond, he moved, leading his reserve troops and his loyal house soldiers in a charge toward Brandon and Edwyn.
Gareth, a pure bread battle-junky, positioned himself at the forefront of the assault and bellowed his charge as his house banner billowed in the wind, as his household men passed the levies his men. The lockstep cadence of his forces, disciplined and well-drilled, echoed past them.
As he closed the distance, his men smiled just as brightly as he did as they charged into the fray with their king, the ground trembling beneath the charge of armoured boots. The winds pelting the hills fling the blood and sweat of the armies into the air.
Finally, the two forces clashed face to face as their household guards smashed into each other.
"Finally, Brandon and Edwyn, you decided to attack. It took you two too long to decide that. I expected that from you, Gareth, but from you, Brandon, I expected better. But it matters not now, now we can fight and battle like warriors." Gareth said.
"Fucking battle-hungry madman," Edwyn comments.
"Should be an interesting fight," Brandon said.
"Oh, it will be. A fun fight we will have. Come on, then, oh mighty kings, let's see if you can fight," Gareth exclaimed as he raised his bronze sword and axe into the air, charging down the hill, quickly followed by the roar of his men.
The clash of the two forces ringed out sounds of splitting wood and bronze clashing. Swords clashed, axes chopped, and men screamed in the heat of battle. Gareth, true to his reputation as a battle fanatic, proved his mettle with his unique fighting style—wielding both sword and axe simultaneously. He skilfully fended off the attacks from both Brandon and Edwyn, the intensity of the fight escalating with each passing moment.
Gareth's movements were fluid and precise, whilst always smiling during his fight. He revelled in the chaos, his battle cries echoing across the battlefield. His cries of 'more' and 'stronger' fill the air as he reveals and embraces the battle.
The skirmish unfolded as an intense and prolonged struggle, with Gareth becoming more exuberant as the fighting persisted. His calls for more challenges and harder combat were met with the clash of weapons and the roar of the engaged armies.