As the sun began to droop down toward the horizon, it cast a long shadow on a battle that was about to unfold in a valley full of soldiers.

Castor looked from his position down on the battlefield. He stood on a rock overhang, looking down on the valley where a battle was soon to take place. Around him was a collection of his closest advisors, his general, and his captains. Three groups of archers also stood on the rock that jutted over the valley. A light breeze blew through the land as the sun beat down, heating their armor to an unpleasant temperature. Down below them a line of catapults was visible. Around the machines was a small army of drakons. Several hundred feet away a second army, this of humans, stood ready. The smell of cut grass and oiled catapult cables wafted up from the valley to their position, along with the distant noise of the anxious soldiers' nervous shifting.

Castor turned to his general, Merric. Merric was in his early thirties and had dedicated his life to defending Archain, the kingdom ruled by Castor. He had joined the army when his town, Egnore, was raided and his family killed. He had worked his way through the ranks all the way to general and had become battle hardened and learned the skill needed to command an army. He was a good, dedicated soldier and was extremely loyal to his king and country.

"Sound the call," Castor ordered.

Merric nodded and blew a large trumpet. The sound blared over the valley and echoed back several times.

The army of humans began to run forward upon hearing the warison. As the men got closer seven or eight drakons flashed their stones and became dragons. Castor heard clanking armor as the front soldiers braced their shields. The dragons leaped into the air and crashed down in the center of their lines. He heard screams of fear and the roars of challenge as the dragons' claws tore through their armor. Several of the knights bravely ran forward with their swords raised. The duels only lasted a few minutes and ended with the necks of serpents lying on the grassy ground. More flashes of stones signaled more drakons turning into dragons. Five dragons jumped into the air and with several thunderous beats of their wings they were high in the sky. Horace, the captain of Castor's troops, alerted him of the danger. Horace was from Archain, the capital. His father had been a knight and Horace had followed in his footsteps.

"Sire, the dragons are approaching!" He shouted as he drew his sword.

"Tell the archers to fire on them!"

"Yes sir!" He turned and ran over to the first of the three units of archers, gave them the orders and ran back. Seconds later a volley of arrows flew at the serpents. The iron tips flashed in the afternoon sun as the soaring shafts arched down before burrowing themselves deep into the dragons' skin, striking them out of the sky. Castor couldn't help but smile at the tiny victory. Unfortunately, it was short lived. Boulders flew from the catapults with thunderous cracks from the wooden launching arms and landed in the army of men that were standing ready in the valley. The sickening crunches of metal and bones made Castor flinch.

"Get down!" Castor shouted as another boulder smashed into the rocky overhang. The men shouted in fear as the rock trembled. "Get off the cliff! Get off the cliff!" The men scrambled to get away. More boulders smashed down.

"We need to retreat, sire," Merric advised.

"Merric, sound the signal." Three more blasts were sent over the valley. The men looked up instantaneously before the knights moved to the front with lifted shields. Then a few drakons flashed their stones and transformed into even more dragons. Several knights fell to their claws while the soldiers behind ran. Once the others had gotten a hundred feet or so away, the knights turned and ran with the dragons right behind them. Castor turned to the archers. "Open fire on them!" Two more volleys struck the lines of drakons. A few hours later the human army had retreated and reached Archain.

~ ~ ~

That night Castor held a war counsel. He, his advisors, Merric, and Horace all met in a room in the keep, which was located at the north western corner of the city. The walls were covered in bookcases with polished, wooden floors. A chandelier hung from the ceiling, illuminating the table at which they stood. The table was made of wood and carved to perfectly show a three dimensional map of Unisus, from the east coast, to the west coast, to the Mountains of Ilmara in the north, to the Forest of Valdraermisr. Covering this map were metal figures, made to show armies. Near the Archain borders a drakon figure stood. Castor ceremoniously removed it from the map. He raised his hands to quiet the cheers.

"Men, we have taken a hard hit, but our effort was enough. I have heard from my scouts that the drakons have withdrawn." More cheering erupted. Again he raised his hands. Again they went silent. "Now for the matter of why they are attacking us."

"I might be able to answer that," A voice said from the corner of the room. Castor spun around to see a man standing in the corner. He had short, brown hair, a bow on his back, and a sliver pendant hanging from around his neck, marking him as a royal scout. "How did you get in here?"

The scout smiled slyly. "If you have the right tools," He looked to his pendant, "it's not exactly difficult to get in."

"If you are going to interrupt a war counsel you better have a good reason." Merric said threateningly. "Don't forget I'm the one who can take those tools away."

The scout stepped out from the corner, all traces of sarcasm lost. "I do. My king, my men report that armies of the Empire have infiltrated the forest of Valdraermisr. Their forces are strong and organized. It has been many a year since they attempted an attack this extensive."

"If you have a point, I would love to hear it."

"Judging by the number of soldiers and equipment, I think that they are planning for more than a battle or skirmish". Merric motioned him to continue. "Judging by their numbers and position I would say it is more than possible they're launching an invasion."

"That's impossible," Castor argued. "They wouldn't dare attack Valdraermisr. It's not a city, a town, let alone under the control of any defined kingdom."

"Sire, they have more than twenty-thousand men in that forest."

Castor was almost speechless. "Over twenty-thousand? I suppose an invasion could be possible....."

"Trust me sire, if you have seen the attacks as the scouts have, you would understand."

"Do you know if they go unopposed?" Castor asked.

The scout hesitated before answering. "Well, rumors have it the elves are fighting back, but I have no proof of the matter."

Castor believed that. The elves were one of the most mystic and hidden creatures in Unisus. Their cities were concealed deep in the forest. Little was known about them and half of what was considered known was just myth. Castor nodded his thanks and dismissed the scout with a wave and a nod.

Castor turned back to his advisors. "Sir, if this is true we need to act," Merric said. "If the Empire of Drakons takes Valdraermisr then we will be cornered. They will have a huge upper hand over us. We've all seen what their power can do. They defeated Samal in matter of months. What hope would we have?" The others murmured in agreement.

Castor pondered the problem for several minutes. His first, instinctive reaction was to assemble his army and march to the capital of Mordon, though he quickly dismissed the idea. Mordon was south of the Mountains of Ilmara and inside of the Empire's borders. An attack would be long and costly. Bantu, the emperor, had strong troops and conniving generals. Besides, tribes of wild Urki and Argles raged the mountains and would most likely prey on the forces of soldiers. Even if they won, it would be nearly impossible to hold the city. No, an attack on Mordon was not the answer.

His next thought was to send an ambassador to the Empire and request a withdrawal of their troops from Valdraermisr. They would refuse at first, but it might work. The more Castor thought about this idea the less likely it sounded. If the Empire had the guts to attack a mass of land as large as Valdraermisr then they would not listen to a petty request to withdraw. Again, this was not the answer. That left one thing.

"We must assemble a force and assist the elves."

Shouting broke out throughout the room. "You can't! To make an enemy of the Empire is to court death! We mustn't!"

"You are a fool! To do so is impossible!"

"The Empire? You can't be serious!"

It was only Merric and Horace who remained silent. Castor could almost see the gears turning in their minds. They may have been warriors, but when it came to strategy, it was hard to come by their rival.

After a few moments of the chaos Merric's commanding voice cut through the noise. "Silence. Use your heads! If the elves don't hold out we will be cornered like chickens. Then who will help us? The dwarves? They hide in their grand cities, too scared to even show themselves. The Urki, the Argles? They stood with the Empire before and they will do it again. Who will come to our aid? Who will stand with us? The elves." The room had gone silent. Merric and Horace's intellect were common knowledge. Everyone waited to hear what they would say. "Be willing to leave your halls for once, or will you speak of greatness while you act of weakness? Take up your swords."

Guilin, one of Castor's lords and governor of the city of Felver, a city to the north, came up to him. "This is an ambitious request you are making, my king."

"I know, but I see no other option."

"Aye, that it does and for that reason I want to come with you."

"Guilin, Felver will need you. I can't ask you to leave your city."

"I know more than a few capable knights who would more than sufficiently rule in my absence. You will need good protection out there and I would trust no one to do that, but myself."

"I can fight you know," Castor said, beginning to smile. "Plus Merric and Horace will accompany me. I will be fine. Besides, that gut of yours isn't gettimg any smaller, just like the number of grey hairs on your head, if I'm not mistaken."

The old knight laughed heartily. "True on both accounts, I'm afraid. But I can still wield a spear just as well as any younger fellow and I would rest better if I knew you were within my protection. Will you permit it?"

"You know I will," Castor said with a grin.

Guilin broke a smile. "Thank you lad."

By then the room had quieted and the men had taken their seats and regained their composure. Castor addressed them. "A campaign into Valdraermisr is a dangerous quest. We will need man power and strategy if we are to make this work. Merric, Horace, can you get me two thousand men, armed and ready to go in a week's time?"

"Consider it done," Horace replied. "But will two thousand be enough? We'll be facing crippling odds."

"True," Castor replied, "but we won't be trying to drive the Argles out. They should be disorganized enough that as soon as they see sufficient resistance they will back out. Especially if the rumors about elves prove to be true. Ferris get me three squads of archers and give them all two extra quivers. We will probably need them before this adventure is over."

A slender, weathered man who sat with a bow across his lap nodded.

"We will need supplies to take as well."

"I'll take care of that," Guilin said.

"We will need craft masters also, blacksmiths and doctors. Horace can you take that?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. We need all this ready and assembled exactly one week from today."