On the morning of November 18, outside Carnford's main city gate, the biting morning wind swept up the banners, making them snap and crackle.
Outside Carnford's main city gate, the army had already finished forming ranks. Dark, massed lines stretched into the distance, cold glints of metal flashing beneath the lead-gray sky, a killing chill hanging in the air.
The infantry's spears stood like a forest, the cavalry horses snorted, and the wheels of the Supply Carts crushed over the frozen earth with dull, rolling rumbles.
Roland wore gleaming breastplate and sat astride his warhorse, his expression solemn as he directed the final formations. Lyon's cavalry battalion had already set out ahead, spreading out as the vanguard.
Karl wore full military dress, with the dark-blue cloak that symbolized his status as lord draped over it, standing at the very front.
He was not mounted, but facing the crowd that had come to see him off.
His wife, Princess Louise, stood at the very front. Today she wore a dark, fitted hunting outfit convenient for riding, with a thick fur-trimmed cloak over it. Her hair was pinned up meticulously, her face calm; only deep in her eyes, there seemed to be a few more traces of an indescribable stillness than usual.
Since that night, an invisible, complicated, fragile tacit understanding had formed between the two of them. They no longer mentioned those secrets, yet they could no longer return to their previous surface calm.
"Your Highness, I leave the domain in your hands." Karl bowed slightly, his voice steady, carrying a businesslike distance, yet also a trace more than before... perhaps a hidden solemnity that others would find hard to notice.
"Please rest assured, Lord Karl. I wish you victory from the first unfurled banner and an early triumphal return." Louise's