Two armies faced off on the plain.
On one side were Suleiman's twenty light cavalrymen and over four hundred light infantrymen. Their ranks were orderly, their killing intent fierce, and every soldier stood tall with pride.
On the other side.
Was the ragtag force Knight Terry had forcibly thrown together: more than four hundred farmers clutching pitchforks, hoes, and sickles, packed together in a terrified mass. They did not even dare look his way.
Seeing the situation before him, Suleiman had to admit that he had not expected the other side to think they had the strength to fight him to the death.
Knight Terry sat atop a tall horse. He was around thirty, with a pale face. He had not expected such a vast difference between farmers.
By the customs of noble warfare, the commanders of both sides met before the battle lines. Suleiman and Walker Terry each rode forward into the space between the armies with two guards.
Walker Terry stared at Suleiman with bloodshot eyes, as though flames might burst from them.
As if he did not sense Walker Terry's emotions at all, Suleiman remained calm.
"Knight Walker Terry, this is your last chance."
"You have committed grave crimes. You refused to swear fealty, seized your lord's land, refused to return it, insulted your lord's honor, and now you have even drawn your sword against your lord."
As Suleiman listed his crimes as casually as if reciting a menu, Walker Terry's face turned green, then white. The words caught in his throat, and he could not utter a single one.
Suleiman pointed at him. "Kneel now. Bend the knee to me and swear fealty, and I can still preserve a village fief for you, allowing your family bloodline to continue."
Upon hearing this, Knight Walker Terry seemed