On the day of the battle, banners are flowing in the turbulent winds of the peninsula. The three dukes with their retainers and scores of mercenaries trample the grass around the city. Severin looks over the plains and calms his mare Anathema. He needs someone reassuring him now like this, but – alas – none of his peers is in his section. Next to him, a crowd of peasants hesitantly moves forward. One of them almost hits his neighbor with his improvised weapon.
Then, the charge! Trumpets sound and Anathema begins to gallop like the other horses around. Severin and the men of lord Balthasar’s guard close ranks and lower their spears. A few hundred feet away, the enemy does the same. Glistering fearsome armor shoots closer and closer, the sweat on horse flanks, clumps of soil thrown in the air, rapid breathing, war cries – impact!