The Harutian army marched toward the Rhydian Pass, on their way to begin their war with Coltend.
The raven they received from their king was enough to set them on the warpath. Their dedication to him was absolute, and knowing that their king was potentially in danger only fed their anger and hatred into even further depths. It drove them over the harsh terrain of Harut, and with every step, they knew that their fates were drawing nearer.
The commander of Bashir's guard, General Ari Vest, rode at the vanguard of the three-thousand-strong army, gazing out upon the landscape in search of potential threats. Granted, it wasn't the full army, but it was all they could muster at a moment's notice. His armor, decorated with a bright, yellow sash, not only stated his position, but also the degree of his accomplishments in service to the king.
These vast, barren wastelands of sand and small shrubberies make up more than half of the Harutian landscape, and though we have learned to survive in such harsh conditions over the generations, they always pose a very real threat. If it weren't for these compasses, we'd certainly be lost, he thought, noticing a small sandstorm rolling in from the marching army.
"General Vest," Colonel Khaleed Messir, Ari's second in command, said, trotting up beside him. He, too, was clad in the same light armor with a red sash, riding a large brown stallion. "How much do we know about our king's predicament, sir?" the man asked.
"Unfortunately not much, Khaleed," Ari replied. "All the information about his current status is that which he wrote in his message," he continued. Khaleed grimaced. "For all we know, he could be dead by now. Pray to the gods that he isn't," Ari said grimly.
"I do not believe he would die so easily, sir. "He might have made it to the town at the foot of the mountain pass. I've brought his armor just in case we meet him there," Khaleed gestured to the tightly packed satchel on the side of his horse. "I pray that you are correct in your beliefs, Khaleed," Ari sighed.
"If the worst-case scenario becomes our new reality, what shall we do?" Khaleed leaned in to speak quietly. "We have only our duty that needs to be done: honor our king and his fallen son as best we can," Ari replied gravely.
"That will be no small task. It might very well mean our deaths," Khaleed sighed. "True. However, the fact remains that our duty calls us to do what we have sworn so many years ago. We must fight with honor and courage, and bring down the ones responsible in any way we can," Ari said with determination. Khaleed nodded his agreement and held a distant stare as he digested his commander's words.
They continued riding for the remainder of the day, reaching the town at the base of the pass by nightfall. The moonlit town was as quiet as a graveyard. Everyone was fast asleep when they arrived, readying themselves for the following day's work.
Ari, Khaleed, and twenty others rode into the small town, while most of the army camped on the outskirts. He looked for the stables and hoped at least one person would be awake to tend to their horses.
He rode up to the quiet, dimly lit stables, and a horse was frightfully awoken from its sleep by the sound of his horse's hooves. He quickly dismounted his horse and ran over to calm the to it, bringing his hand up to its nape and patting it gently. The horse responded by lowering its head into Ari's chest. "There, there, my beauty," he said softly, holding the large head.
"You are a fine horse, indeed, but you are not one from Coltend nor Caegwen," he said as the realization slowly dawned on him. He opened the stall door and checked its hind leg to find the Harutian's brand on its hide.
"You're one of ours," he said softly, squatting to get a closer look. "Khaleed, come here, quickly!" he hissed as loud as current conditions would allow him. Khaleed dismounted his horse and walked over to his captain. "What is it, sir?" he asked. "Look," Ari said, gesturing towards the brand.
"It is one of ours," Khaleed said with genuine surprise.