Dawn had barely broken when Ora Stonebeard was jolted awake by the commotion in the camp.
The air reeked of sour, fermenting cheap ale and scorched watery porridge.
What a rabble.
Ola irritably scratched his great braided beard.
An army of three hundred sounded impressive, but he knew perfectly well that apart from his thirty brothers in the Shatterrock Knights, the remaining two hundred-odd Levy Soldiers were merely farmers and thugs brought in to pad the numbers.
They could wave banners and cheer, or haul away the spoils after a victory.
But expecting them to fight?
Ola would sooner believe his battleaxe could start singing on its own.
"My lord Baron!"
A scout scrambled into his tent, his face twisted with the terror of a man who had seen a ghost.
"What is it? Did that pretty boy get scared and run away during the night?" Ola asked impatiently.
"N-no!" The scout's voice shook. "He... they... they're coming out!"
Ola's brow knotted.
Coming out?
What the hell was?
He shoved the scout aside and strode out of the tent.
The camp was in utter chaos.
The Levy Soldiers scurried about like ants whose nest had been kicked open, running blindly in every direction as terrified cries rose all around them.
"Quiet!"
Ola let out a thunderous roar that drowned out every other sound.
He grabbed a fleeing Levy Soldier at random, hoisting him straight off the ground with one enormous hand.
"What's all this noise? Keep running, and I'll split you open myself!"
The man was scared out of his wits, a warm stream spilling down his trousers.
Ola flung him to the ground in disgust and turned his gaze toward Newborn Town.
Then he saw it.
A black formation was slowly approaching along the horizon.
At its head rode