Victory Hinged on This Battle

The wind swept across the open ground between the two armies, carrying the earthy smell of the plains.

The soldiers of the Guburk family gripped their spears with sweat-slick hands.

They glanced uneasily at the black lion banner across from them, then back at their young, terrified lord.

The tension was like a bowstring about to snap.

William Mooton kept wiping away his sweat.

Old Walter Hean had his hand on his sword hilt. He stared coldly at Lymond Guburk's neck, as if calculating the easiest angle from which to cut it.

Just as the suffocating silence threatened to erupt into infighting, the rapid beat of hooves broke the deadlock.

"Urgent military news!"

A mounted scout galloped in from the distance, his horse frothing at the mouth after a long, hard ride.

He pulled up before Suleiman and, without even stopping to salute, took a wax-sealed dispatch from his tunic and offered it with both hands.

"My lord! An urgent dispatch!"

Suleiman took it, broke the seal with a fingertip, and unfolded the parchment.

His eyes skimmed the page, his face unreadable. Everyone around him held their breath.

News arriving at a moment like this was rarely good.

Suleiman finished reading, folded the letter, and tucked it into his sleeve.

Then, before everyone's eyes, he dismounted.

His black boots struck the soft earth with a dull thud.

Suleiman walked toward Lymond Guburk, one step at a time.

The already taut standoff reached its breaking point.

Lymond watched him approach as though he were a lion coming to devour him.

"Lord Su...

...Suleiman..."

His voice shook uncontrollably, and he stumbled two steps backward.

Behind him, a woman's quiet sobs sounded painfully sharp across the deathly still plain.

Suleiman did not stop. His calm gaze was unnerving.

Lymond Guburk finally broke.

Under