Caelmot turned to the young man next to him and extended the hand that was not raised in the air.

Caelmot Gabhiu's my name. You going to join?

Caelmot moved his head slightly upward, signaling to his raised hand and joining to fight against Mhelrisse's army.

The two new friends shook hands. In his head, Tork wasn't sure he wanted to join, for he feared death. However, he never liked to show weakness so he smiled as he raised his hand and said, "Sure, I guess I'll join. I'd kill loads of enemies for the sake of all us good people!"

He continued to smile even when he looked around the town at all of the other people. His smile slowly faded as he felt the anxiousness rise all around him. A lot of people he looked up to looked uncertain and some even left the town center. This was definitely not a time to be happy. Tork looked back at Caelmot and in a more serious tone, he said, "Times are getting rough, huh."

Caelmot looked at the many different emotions as well.

Yes, they are. I mean, our king now has no heir, and he is getting a bit old, wise and lovable, but not fit to fight, for certain. Our barracks, well, from what I see of the night-watch, they don't appear to enthused about their positions in this society. But, if we all united, buckled down and worked hard...

Caelmot played Caehdin's words over again in his mind. Yes, their army is many times the size of our garrison, our population even...

...surely, we have the gods on our side.

Caelmot spotted his father in the crowd. His heart began to flutter, wondering what his father might do if he saw his only son left in Hazgrad with his hand raised up. He spotted Caelmot, and his pulse stopped for a moment. He looked relieved, then confused, then angry, then remorseful, and finally, his hand went up to. His eyes were wet, and Caelmot felt ashamed, as though he'd only done so because his son had.

"If you will join me, then this day, find yourselves weapons and things for battle. Tomorrow morning, I will open the garrison, and the first who come there will receive what weapons we have left. Gabhiu, you are ensured a weapon from the barracks if today, you make weapons in your forge, and through the night."

Gabhiu's voice raised.

"And what if my son helps me?"

"Your son? Yes, he shall get one too."

Caelmot looked over at his father. He would be working all night then.

Victorius rose his voice addressing the man who was still lord of this land…still…
I will aid you in combat great lord, with my experience of battle you are sure to have some chance, but has thy not thought about moving, moving away to the lands on the east, to the borders of Macedon and then deep inside Greece, a place great for farming, fishing and hunting.
He saw that his words caused some response from the crowd, some agreed with his words, mostly those too old or afraid, however some seemed to not like the way he talked to the king, and then his idea…But only a foolish man would insult a person who’s job is killing…
Victorius looked at the king show stood far away, but no doubt he had heard him…

Caehdin squinted.

"Interesting proposal. Fleeing, leaving all we've worked to attain in return for more work, and safety. All quiet down now, please. I have had my scribe take count of those who would fight, now, all lower your hands, lower them."

Caehdin waited for those who'd raised their hands to comply.

"Now, those of you who wish to leave these lands and travel south, to lands this man knows of but not myself, only heard tales of its people and their customs, raise your hands."

Brannad pushes his way through the crowd and plants his battle axe in the ground before the man of unknown origin. He glances upon his face, a malevolent sneer worn upon his young features. Then his expression changed to that of a respectful solemnnity as he faces the King.

"Honourable leader I greet you. I am Brannad of the fallen Bó tribe. Would you send any of your people to this land of which this.... southerner speaks of? For all any of us knows it is a place of demons and monsters. My mighty father once spoke of an ancient alliance of the tribes. I as his heir to a broken tribe beg you to unite the free among us once more. Bring the renegades to your banner, send messengers to the west and east. You are respected across the land, you will bring great battle to the usurper and crush his foul kingdom."

At the final words, he knelt down, holding the axe in both hands. His head facing the ground as he awaited an answer to his propostion. If anyone had seen his eyes at this point, they would have seen tears welling.

A hush came over the crowd, as well as within Caehdin's mind. He knew little of the ancient alliance other than that it was used only once, the eve upon its creation, against nomadic raiders from the east. But that was a long, long time ago.

"Brannad, heir to nothing other than remorse, stand, for we shall grovel no more. We shall fear no more, we shall be safe no more, for freedom comes at the highest cost. It's cost is bravery, courage, valor. It's cost is to stand and fight when your numbers are less, and to keep hope when you think there is none. Bó has fallen. I have not heard from Bó in some time. I last remember it being good trade, and before that, we fought alongside your tribe and what was left of the others to fend off those to the east. Now, from the west comes our troubles, and from the east shall solution greet them. We can reunite the tribes around us, but I feel they will be shaky, they will still have fear, they will not remember the cost of freedom. From what my messengers have told me, most see this Mhelrisse the Dark Wolf coming, and are ready to do little more than embrace him and his darkness. They see no hope. However, I know of a way that will remind them of what it is to be free! We will have to face the enemy, alone, as Hazgrad, once, and not be defeated. Once, one day of battle, one small victory, and surely, they will remember that hope always exists. Brannad, you look weary, as weary as I am old and crumbling. Come with me, we've much to speak of. However, first, I shall remind all of you of that freedom. Take it upon yourself, as your fellow citizen's watch, to join us in war. I will be sacrificing much more than the life of my own heir, I expect you all to sacrifice with me. Prepare for war or run to safe life, and never truly live again."

Caehdin waved his arm, motioning for Brannad to come with him.

Caelmot spoke to Tork over the mumbling voices that now rose after Caehdin's speech.

So it's sure then. War is on our doorstep, and though we greet it, we greet it to keep out the ominous cloud that stands behind it. Tomorrow morning, early on, just before the sun rises, come to my father's forge. I will have proper weapons for us. But tell nobody!

Caelmot spoke his last few words as he shuffled off toward his father who beckoned him toward the forge.

Septimius was caught off-guard with the speech, but managed to pledge his allegiance, albeit rather oddly.

"I, Septimius, hold my arm to you, king, and pledge my loyalty to you, in life, and in death, I shall serve thee!"

He was rather disconcerted by the rather un-lengthy so-called 'speech' that he had given, but was assured that he had been heard. He had heard the forge-worker too, and was now running towards the forge itself. He had always wondered what battle tasted like, to feel the victorious feeling that came only when fighting for the noblest of causes... but he musn't dawdle. As he daydreamed, there were certainly people coming... and soon there'd be none left for him. He nearly crashed through the crowd congregating again, this time before the forge, but caught his balance and managed to get to the front.

"I too pledge my mortal body to you oh king. My axe will cleave the skulls of the enemy, my arrows pierce and my knives carve apart their tyranny. I serve also."

Brannad pulled himself to his feet and blinked a few times before raising his eyes to gaze upon the old king. Then he walked nearer to him and prepared to follow.

My native land is long-since vanquished and my honour lost, but if you would accept the offering of my service, my lord, then I may regain my honour and once more have a place to call home.

With that, Kheldrim walked forward and joined the growing crowd.