The Wierland army spread out over the fields, a wave of pikes and swords, waiting silently for the knights and soldiers of Calendia. As the light of the dawn reached across the land, the sentries on the walls of Nantitet saw the host rise before them like a maiden out of the sea. They stood, mouths agape. Then their cries rang out rousting the defenders and bringing the knights and squires on a dead run. Shouts rang out as figures darted around like ants finding an unguarded kitchen. It seemed like moments until they mustered. At attention they stood, barely restraining the emotions rising in them as the prospect of battle hung over them like a mist soaking them to their skin. The grizzled veterans, carrying the scars of many encounters shouted to their comrades. There were confident faces, worried faces, and the youthful fear of the youngest men, new to battle and mixed in among the experienced fighters so an entire line wouldn't break at first contact. They would gather their strength from those around them.
