Prince Thrand

[svalbard]

This is part of the fantasy project I am working on is an aside away from the main characters. It is important in that it lays out some political problems for the future. I am aware that some of the dialog may be heavy, but it is between high nobles. Does it work?



The courtyard was hot and odious. Dozens of armoured knights packed it’s narrow confines, all of them waiting for Prince Thrand to appear and lead them out to join the army gathering beyond the walls of Weshna. Alvin Tormaster stood at the end of the stone staircase that led up to the doors of the keep. His long drooping moustaches were dark and sleek from the oils he had rubbed into them not an hour past. He was a vain man and for good reason. His years, some forty or more in number rested easy on his features and his body was still as sturdy as it was when he was a youth. Sharp, intelligent eyes sought out the shadows of the doorway of the keep, where he knew that Thrand was bidding farewell to Alys and his young son.

It would be a tear filled parting, for the young couple were devoted to each other and their newborn child, Alvin’s grandson. It had been a source of great pride and honour to Alvin when the King had chosen his daughter to wed the Prince. It confirmed Alvin as the pre-eminent lord in Weshna. Thrand appeared at the door and a great shout went up from the men in the courtyard as the Prince walked down to meet Alvin.

“All is ready?” he asked of Alvin.

“Yes. Lord Helrose is with the army, but he is not happy that he is to be left behind,” Alvin said.

“Manx will do as he is told!” Thrand snapped. His mood was not at its best. Alys had made such a scene, thrusting the babe at him and begging him not to leave.

“My Father commands and so I must obey,” he had told her before he left.

“Manx Helrose never does as he is told,” Alvin returned.

The two of them were mounted now and Thrand swung about in the saddle to look up at the keep. Alys was standing with his son in her arms. He raised his arm in farewell before shouting out the command for the gates to open and the cavalcade to depart.

“I know, but this time he will,” Thrand replied.

Alvin seemed unsure, but he had seen his son-law deal with the old lord before. Maybe he had the measure of the old bastard. We will see soon enough, thought Alvin.
The streets of Weshna, narrow and winding, were choked with people, all gathered to see Thrand off to war. They roared with joy at his passing. He smiled and called blessings back to them. They love him, thought Alvin, and no wonder. He is like some hero out of a saga, tall and handsome. Generous as well, very Year Turning feast, the Prince would walk amongst the people dispensing gifts and largesse.

Thrand ruled well and sat in the courts when in residence at Weshna, dealing out judgements fairly and wisely. He had learned well from his father, the king of Janter.
As the column reached the Sanctuary of Zel, Thrand halted the company outside the tall imposing building.

“Good Priests, I call on you to bless this great venture in the name of the all knowing Zel,” he called out the white robed priests standing before him.
As one they raised their arms to the heavens and all in the company bowed their heads as the priests chanted out a prayer. Once more they set off, on towards the gates of the city and the army gathered outside.

“Have they all come?” asked Thrand.

“Yes, did you doubt. Anders Hallin is there with a thousand spearmen, Jerrom Malcire with all his strength and Lord Cully has marched from Inner-Janter with his men,” Alvin replied.

“What of Del Vilaters?”

“With the Earl of Kar. He will join us at Dogemaar,” Alvin said.

Thrand nodded his head at the news. Alvin had named out the main lords of the army, the men who would be his captains. The gates of the city were open and Thrand spurred his mount in to a quick canter as he passed through them. Thousands of men were lined up on the plain before the city and they roared as they saw Thrand exit the city. He sent his horse into a gallop to close the distance between himself and the host. Men banged their weapons against shields sending out a mighty din. Banners, a riot of colour, fluttered in the gentle breeze. Riders began to detach themselves from the host to join Thrand as he cantered the whole length of the army. He greeted each of his lords by name and thanked them from coming.

“Where is my Lord Helrose?” he asked out loud.

“At the end of the line, brooding,” Anders Hallin of Cresh Moss, replied moving up close to Thrand.

The Prince smiled at his friend noting the glee with which he spoke. There was no love lost between the Helrose and Hallin families. It was a feud that went back generations, a feud that no one could remember a reason for. But it had cost the lives of many through the years and it’s ferocity had only begun to recede when Thrand outlawed duelling in the dukedom. The death of Anders father, another Anders, had also helped, for the younger Hallin was not the quarrelsome type and not much of a warrior either. But he was a good companion and had struck up a friendship with Thrand when the Prince arrived in Weshna all those years ago.

Thrand saw Manx Helrose before the old warrior saw him. He was surrounded by his sons, all nine of them and he was berating them furiously. They all wore the look of condemned men. The old man was fearsome to look at. Thick white hair seemed to grow all over his head and face with only his fierce eyes visible.

“My Lord Helrose, well met!” Thrand called out striking out ahead of his companions.
“Stay back,” he ordered them.

Manx looked squarely at the Prince with a cold fury in his eyes. It was then that Thrand remembered the name the Caradians to the south called him, ‘Killer’ Manx. The old man was a noted fighter in those troubled parts. His lands bordered with those of Carad, that kingdom which seemed in a constant state of civil war. As a result, through out the years, Manx had had to repel constant raids from brigands that were roaming the wild lands of north Carad.

“You dishonour me, my Prince. You dishonour my family. To be left behind with the women is a disgrace. No Duke of Weshna has gone to war without a Helrose at his side as far back as when your own ancestor , the Conqueror, took Janter,” Manx said without preamble.

“What you say is true but…”

“There can be no buts, my lord. You go to war with callow youths like Hallin and others of his ilk. Alvin Tormaster is the only one of worth amongst them and even he...” here Manx trailed off.

Thrand looked over at Manx’s sons. He did not know their names, Manx only ever referred to them as, ‘boy’. But one of them would bare the name of Manx, it was tradition amongst the Weshnian lords to name their first born after themselves. He would have to choose his words carefully.

“My lord for the first time in generations, a heir to the Weshnian dukedom has been born on its soil to a Weshnian mother. My son will need protection whilst I am away. To the south there is war in Carad again and the march lands will be in flux. There is no one better suited to fighting these brigands than you,” Thrand said. He was appealing to the only vanity the man had, his reputation as a warrior.

Manx gave a slight nod of his head as if to say to Thrand, continue.
“You bare a fearful reputation amongst the Caradians. If they know that you rule Weshna in my absence then they will think long and hard about raiding us. With you here as Lord Protector of Weshna,” Thrand paused and was satisfied to see Manx’s eyes sparkle at that title.

“I will not fear for the safety of my people or my son.”

Manx thought for a long moment.
“Maybe you are right. Maybe there is no one who can do the job better than myself,” the old warrior mused out loud, and Thrand had to stop himself smiling. He had won him over and now he could go war knowing that his lands and family were safe. For the threat from Carad was real and once he had finished dealing with the city-states he would propose to his father the idea of invading northern Carad and subduing it once and for all.

“Fear not, my Prince, your son shall be kept safe. My own sons shall guard him night and day. Isn’t that right boys!” he called out them.

They shout back their assent not knowing what their father had pledged them to.

“Good. Then this must be our farewell. Raise the levies of the marchlands whilst I am away and govern wisely,” Thrand said clasping the arm of Manx.

Manx called out an order to his men and they moved off towards the city. Thrand cantered back to his waiting nobles.

“What did you say to him? I swear the man was positively beaming as he cantered towards the city,” Anders Hallin asked of Thrand.
Thrand looked back at the city and the company of Manx Helrose as he entered through it’s broad gates. He hoped fervently that he had chosen well.

“You see the new Lord Protector of Weshna pass before you,” Thrand replied to the consternation of those about.

“You gave that monstrosity a title and absolute authority in the Dukedom. Are you mad,” Alvin exclaimed.

Thrand turned angrily on him and for a brief moment he looked like his father, the king, with his normally soft blue eyes, dark and angry.

“Do not question my judgement, my lord. He will do!” Thrand said his tone low and menacing.

Alvin bowed his head.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” he replied.

Thrand rode ahead of the group shouting out commands as he went. His captains and lords took up position with their retinues and the march began with loud cheerful songs.

Lord Cully of Harnburg cantered up close to Thrand.
“You spoke well there, Your Highness, these Weshnians are far to free in their speech with you,” the old warhorse said, fingering his long flowing white moustaches.

“Thank you, my lord, and how goes it in the Inner-realm? What news of my Father?” Thrand asked.

Lord Cully one of the first of the Inner-Janterian lords to support Ranald took a moment to answer.

“Firstly the King is well and has directed your brother Dolfin north to put down the Heskarian rebellion,” Lord Cully said and then stopped as he considered the news himself. In this he had disagreed with Ranald as he felt Dolfin lacked the steel to lead. But he could not argue about the men the King had chosen as Dolfin’s generals. Rolf Del Chirtar and Edland Beufort were both fine commanders. “But, Your Highness, do not expect much aid from the Duke of Keld. It is rumoured that he will not send you the ten thousand men that he was ordered to.”

“The fool would not disobey my Father!” Thrand said.

“Almaric Del Vilaters is a strange fish. He has notions about himself and his family. It rankles his pride that he must serve under your command,” Lord Cully said.

Thrand gave no reply, but swore silently to himself that if he did not find Del Vilaters or ten thousand Keldian spearmen at Dogemaar then the people of Keld would be looking for a new duke! The day held fine as the army marched across the flat pleasant lands of Weshna. Fields well tended stood testimony to the prosperity of the land and the good rule of Thrand. Peasants would stop at their work to watch the long length of the army march past. Some of the spearmen in the army would call out to people they knew as they moved through their own local areas. Mothers wept as they watched their sons walk off to an uncertain future, but thanked the gods that they were led by such a just lord as Prince Thrand.

“Two days and we should reach Tolar and begin our crossing into Dogemaar and then another day should bring us to the city itself,” Alvin Tormaster said, looking up at the clear skies.

“Good. We must move quickly. I want to fall on Hredegaard with as much speed as possible. We must stop the city from properly provisioning itself,” Thrand said.

“That might be difficult. No doubt the rulers of Hredegaard have been expecting this invasion ever since the fall of Dogemaar,” Lord Cully remarked. Thrand smiled at him.

“Then it will be a hard fight.”


The great domed hall was crowded and all eyes were on the drama playing itself out on the dais at the head of the hall. Voices, loud and angry echoed from the high ceiling. Seated in the place of honour at the centre of the table, Thrand listened with mounting anger to the platitudes from the two men before him. His fingers beat out a steady rhythm on the oak table as the voices of the men droned on. Ranged behind him stood the anxious figures of Anders Hallin and Alvin Tormaster.

The elder of the two men before Thrand, the old and gristled Alward Steward ploughed on aware that he was threading on dangerous ground.

“We are not ready I tell you. We need those ten thousand men from Keld,” he said gesturing at his companion for support. The Earl of Lefnar nodded his head in assent at the words from the Duke of Dogemaar.

There was a long silence after Alward had spoken. Standing with the large group of nobles in the hall, Lord Cully could not help but feel that the campaign was doomed before a blow was struck. It had been like this ever since they had arrived in Dogemaar. One disagreement after another. Cully who was a veteran of many campaigns was used to the bickering that always occurred between the noble commanders of any army. But normally the debates would be settled once the overall commander, if he was able enough, stamped his authority over the proceedings. But this was different. Alward Steward and Greb Jordan were being most reclarient in their dealings with Thrand and up to this point the Prince had held his temper in check. What puzzled Cully was the position of both Steward and Jordan. They had most to gain by the fall of Hredegaard, but their constant arguing had now delayed the march by three days.

“Tell me my Lord of Dogemaar as to why those ten thousand are so important. Granted they be a help, but our present strength lies close to thirty thousand men. Surely that is enough to deal with the city of Hredegaard. Especially now that the good Earl of Kar has invested its only ally, the city of Defan,” Thrand said, his voice low and steady.

Alward Steward looked over his shoulder at the waiting knights and lords. He did not want to appear craven before them but the reports he had heard…

“Your Highness, the rumours…”

“Are but rumours! We face no threat from Ralt of that I can assure you. Wherever you derive your intelligence from is wrong,” Thrand said and he looked out at the gathered noblemen as he stood.

“My Lords, I have had enough debate. We will march come the morning. Go and prepare your companies. In two days we will stand before the gates of Hredegaard and that will city will either surrender or will fall by the sword,” he declared.

Amidst the cheering of his pronouncement Alward Steward stepped up to the dais.
“Your Highness…”

“No! Is it not enough that I won your dukedom for you, but now I most go win you another city,” Thrand said, turning his back and leaving the hall through a door behind the dais.

“Bastard!” muttered Alward, “it wasn’t you who won the battle of Dogemaar, but Gregorius Valerian and the Conerax.”

“Hush, my lord, you will be overheard. You have done your part,” Greb Jordan said at his side enigmatically.

In his chambers Thrand sat in silent fury.
“It is not like you to lose you temper like that,” Anders said. They were alone and Anders poured out two goblets of wine.

“Here take this. It will help you relax,” he said, proffering a cup in Thrand’s direction.
“My thanks. That man is a fool. I had forgotten how trying he was. I tell you, Anders, I could not listen to one more excuse. First it was a fear of plague in the army, then it was inclement weather and washed out roads and now this…Ralt. For all the love of the Gods! I wish I could leave him here, but I need his men,” Thrand said.

Anders Hallin sat down ad looked squarely at Thrand.
“Maybe there is something in what he says,” he was saying when with a curse Thrand flung the goblet of wine at the far wall.
“Not you too! We are at peace with Ralt. They would be more than foolish to go to war with my Father. It would end in disaster for them. No, there will be no Raltiesian army in the field against us. Of that I can guarantee you,” Thrand said furiously.

[Miladysa]

I never done this before so here goes...

I found this interesting and you kept my attention throughout.

Loved the names of the characters and the place names, memorable and easy to digest.

The dialogue flowed well for me although I found it hard to retain all the information given here with so many new characters, incidents and past events introduced in this excerpt. [Probably just down to it being a Saturday afternoon and I am not as alert as I could be.]

[Culhwch]

It's quite long, so I don't know how far I'll get. Was only going to read it through and post general comments, but I saw a few things I wanted to comment on early on, so I just quoted and will annotate as I go...

Originally Posted by svalbard

The courtyard was hot and odious. Dozens of armoured knights packed its narrow confines, all of them waiting for Prince Thrand to appear and lead them out to join the army gathering beyond the walls of Weshna. Alvin Tormaster stood at the end of the stone staircase that led up to the doors of the keep. His long drooping moustaches were dark and sleek from the oils he had rubbed into them not an hour past. He was a vain man and for good reason. His years, some forty or more in number rested easy on his features and his body was still as sturdy as it was when he was a youth. Sharp, intelligent eyes sought out the shadows of the doorway of the keep, where he knew that Thrand was bidding farewell to Alys and his young son.

Firstly, I'm not sure odious sits well in that first sentence. I'd suggest looking for another word. Secondly, I think Alvin's description goes on too long - particularly the his-he-his repetition of sentence openings. Cut it down to one or two sentences between ...keep.' and 'Sharp...'

It would be a tear filled parting, for the young couple were devoted to each other and their newborn child, Alvin’s grandson. It had been a source of great pride and honour to Alvin when the King had chosen his daughter to wed the Prince. It confirmed Alvin as the pre-eminent lord in Weshna. Thrand appeared at the door and a great shout went up from the men in the courtyard as the Prince walked down to meet Alvin.

Again - repetitive sentences. Restructure. The info is good, delivery needs work.

“All is ready?” he asked of Alvin.

“Yes. Lord Helrose is with the army, but he is not happy that he is to be left behind,” Alvin said.

“Manx will do as he is told!” Thrand snapped. His mood was not at its best. Alys had made such a scene, thrusting the babe at him and begging him not to leave.

“My Father commands and so I must obey,” he had told her before he left.

I understand what you're trying to do here but the flashback to only a moment before just doesn't sit well, I don't think. Also, I'd drop either the exclamation mark or the attribution in the dialogue of the third par above - one or the other is redundant.

“Manx Helrose never does as he is told,” Alvin returned.

The two of them were mounted now and Thrand swung about in the saddle to look up at the keep. Alys was standing with his son in her arms. He raised his arm in farewell before shouting out the command for the gates to open and the cavalcade to depart.

“I know, but this time he will,” Thrand replied.

I'd get rid of the coloured text to give it more punch. Also, Alys's reaction here could serve to demonstrate Thrand's mood... He raises an arm but she turns away. Alvin, the worried father, asks if all is well. Thrand explains what happened in the stairwell.

Alvin seemed unsure, but he had seen his son-law deal with the old lord before. Maybe he had the measure of the old bastard. We will see soon enough, thought Alvin.

I prefer italics to delineate thoughts, but it's purely personal...

The streets of Weshna, narrow and winding, were choked with people, all gathered to see Thrand off to war. They roared with joy at his passing. He smiled and called blessings back to them. They love him, thought Alvin, and no wonder. Tall and handsome, he was like some hero out of a saga. The prince was generous as well; every Year Turning feast, he'd walk amongst the people dispensing gifts and largesse. Thrand ruled well and sat in the courts when in residence at Weshna, dealing out judgements fairly and wisely. He had learned well from his father, the king of Janter.

I rejigged the end of this par because I felt there was too much being 'thought' - for me it didn't flow. I also combined the two paragraphs, as the second didn't really warrant a par of it's own.

As the column reached the Sanctuary of Zel, Thrand halted the company outside the tall imposing building.

“Good Priests, I call on you to bless this great venture in the name of the all knowing Zel,” he called out to the white robed priests standing before him.
As one they raised their arms to the heavens and, in unison, bowed their heads as they chanted out a prayer. Once more they set off towards the gates of the city and the army gathered outside.

Some small contraction for flow.

“Have they all come?” Thrand asked of Alvin as they rode.

“Yes. Did you doubt?" The older man gave him no time to answer. "Anders Hallin is here with a thousand spearmen. Jerrom Malcire brought all his strength and Lord Cully has marched from Inner-Janter with his men”

“What of Del Vilaters?”

“With the Earl of Kar. He will join us at Dogemaar,” Alvin said.

Thrand nodded his head at the news. Alvin had named the main lords of the army, the men who would be his captains. The gates of the city were open and Thrand spurred his mount into a quick canter as he passed through them. Thousands of men were lined up on the plain before the city and they roared as they saw Thrand exit the city. He sent his horse into a gallop to close the distance between himself and the host. Men banged their weapons against shields, sending out a mighty din. A host of banners, a riot of colour, fluttered in the gentle breeze. Riders began to detach themselves from the host to join Thrand as he cantered the whole length of the army. He greeted each of his lords by name and thanked them from coming.

“Where is my Lord Helrose?” he asked out loud.

“At the end of the line, brooding,” Anders Hallin of Cresh Moss replied, moving closer to Thrand.

The Prince smiled at his friend, noting the glee with which he spoke. There was no love lost between the Helrose and Hallin families. It was a feud that went back generations, a feud that no one could remember a reason for. But it had cost the lives of many through the years and its ferocity had only begun to recede when Thrand outlawed duelling in the dukedom. The death of Anders' father, another Anders, had also helped, for the younger Hallin was not the quarrelsome type and not much of a warrior either. But he was a good companion and had struck up a friendship with Thrand when the Prince arrived in Weshna all those years ago.

Do we need to know Anders' dad was Anders? Feels like too many commas in there...

Thrand saw Manx Helrose before the old warrior saw him. He was surrounded by his sons - all nine of them - and was berating them furiously. They all wore the look of condemned men. The old man was certainly fearsome to look at, with thick white hair that seemed to grow all over his head and face with only his fierce eyes visible.

“My Lord Helrose, well met!” Thrand called out, striking out ahead of his companions. “Stay back,” he ordered them over his shoulder.

At first I thought Lord Helrose was ordering his sons to stay back here - a little confusing. Changing the order of the dialogue might help further - Thrand ordered his companions back and approached Lord Helrose by himself. "Well met, my lord!" he called out...

Manx looked squarely at the Prince with a cold fury in his eyes. It was then that Thrand remembered the name the Caradians to the south called him, ‘Killer’ Manx. The old man was a noted fighter in those troubled parts. His lands bordered with those of Carad, that kingdom which seemed in a constant state of civil war. As a result, throughout the years, Manx had had to repel constant raids from brigands that were roaming the wild lands of north Carad.

'Killer' doesn't impress me - sounds like a term of sarcasm, or the name of a junkyard dog. Try something else.

“You dishonour me, my Prince," Manx said without preamble. "You dishonour my family. To be left behind with the women is a disgrace. No Duke of Weshna has gone to war without a Helrose at his side as far back as when your own ancestor, the Conqueror, took Janter.”

“What you say is true, but…”

“There can be no buts, my lord. You go to war with callow youths like Hallin and others of his ilk. Alvin Tormaster is the only one of worth amongst them and even he...” Manx trailed off.

Thrand looked over at Manx’s sons. He did not know their names; Manx only ever referred to them as ‘boy’. But one of them would bear the name of Manx - it was tradition amongst the Weshnian lords to name their first born after themselves. He would have to choose his words carefully.

“My lord, for the first time in generations an heir to the Weshnian dukedom has been born on Weshnian soil to a Weshnian mother. My son will need protection while I am away. To the south there is war again in Carad. The march lands will be in flux. There is no one better suited to fighting those brigands than you,” Thrand said. He was appealing to the only vanity the man had, his reputation as a warrior.

Manx gave a slight nod of his head as if to say continue. “You bear a fearful reputation amongst the Caradians. If they know that you rule Weshna in my absence then they will think long and hard about raiding us. With you here as Lord Protector of Weshna,” Thrand paused and was satisfied to see Manx’s eyes sparkle at that title, “I will not fear for the safety of my people or my son.”

Manx thought for a long moment. “Maybe you are right. Maybe there is no one who can do the job better than myself,” the old warrior mused out loud, and Thrand had to stop himself smiling. He had won him over and now he could go to war knowing that his lands and family were safe. The threat from Carad was real; once he had finished dealing with the city-states he would propose to his father the idea of invading northern Carad and subduing it once and for all.

“Fear not, my Prince," Manx continued. "Your son shall be kept safe. My own sons shall guard him night and day. Isn’t that right boys!” he called out to them.

They shouted back their assent, not knowing what their father had pledged them to.

“Good. Then this must be our farewell." Thrand clasped the old lord's arm. "Raise the levies of the marchlands whilst I am away, and govern wisely.”

Manx called out an order to his men and they moved off towards the city. Thrand cantered back to his waiting nobles.

“What did you say to him? I swear the man was positively beaming as he cantered towards the city,” Anders Hallin asked of Thrand.

Thrand watched Manx Helrose and his company pass through the city's broad gates. He fervently hoped that he had chosen well. “You see the new Lord Protector of Weshna pass before you,” Thrand told his companions, to their consternation.

“You gave that monstrosity a title and absolute authority in the Dukedom? Are you mad?” Alvin exclaimed.

Thrand turned angrily on him and for a brief moment he looked like his father the king, his normally soft blue eyes dark and angry.

“Do not question my judgement, my lord. He will do,” Thrand said, his tone low and menacing.

Just 'do'? I'd drop those three words altogether.

Alvin bowed his head. “My apologies, Your Highness,” he replied.

Thrand rode ahead of the group, shouting out commands as he went. His captains and lords took up position with their retinues and the march began with loud cheerful songs.

As they rode Lord Cully of Harnburg cantered up close to Thrand. “You spoke well there, Your Highness. These Weshnians are far too free in their speech with you,” the old warhorse said, fingering his long flowing white moustaches.

“Thank you, my lord. How goes it in the Inner-realm? What news of my Father?” Thrand asked. Lord Cully was one of the first of the Inner-Janterian lords to support Ranald and(?) took a moment to answer.

“The King is well. He has directed your brother Dolfin north to put down the Heskarian rebellion,” Lord Cully said, then stopped as he considered the news himself. He had disagreed with Ranald, feeling Dolfin lacked the steel to lead. But he could not argue about the men the King had chosen as Dolfin’s generals. Rolf Del Chirtar and Edland Beufort were both fine commanders. “But, Your Highness, do not expect much aid from the Duke of Keld. It is rumoured that he will not send you the ten thousand men that he was ordered to.”

“The fool would not disobey my Father,” Thrand said.

“Almaric Del Vilaters is a strange fish. He has notions about himself and his family. It rankles his pride that he must serve under your command.”

Thrand gave no reply, but swore silently to himself that if he did not find Del Vilaters or ten thousand Keldian spearmen at Dogemaar then the people of Keld would be looking for a new duke.

The day held fine as the army marched across the flat, pleasant lands of Weshna. Fields well tended stood testimony to the prosperity of the land and the good rule of Thrand. Peasants would stop at their work to watch the long length of the army march past. Some of the spearmen in the army would call out to people they knew as they moved through their own local areas. Mothers wept as they watched their sons walk off to an uncertain future, but thanked the gods that they were led by a lord as just as Prince Thrand.

“Two days and we should reach Tolar and begin our crossing into Dogemaar. Another day should bring us to the city itself,” Alvin Tormaster said, looking up at the clear skies.

“Good. We must move quickly. I want to fall on Hredegaard with as much speed as possible. We must stop the city from properly provisioning itself,” Thrand said.

“That might be difficult," Lord Cully remarked. "No doubt the rulers of Hredegaard have been expecting this invasion ever since the fall of Dogemaar.”

Thrand smiled at him. “Then it will be a hard fight."

That seemed a good point at which to stop. Good stuff, on the whole, it really kept me engaged. I thought the dialogue fine - I trimmed a few exclamation points, but otherwise it sat well, and certainly felt right for the characters. You can probably see that most of the changes I made were fairly superficial - rearranging sentences or contracting them, to help the flow. As ever disregard or embrace, as you will. Any questions or clarifications, just ask.

[svalbard]

Some good ideas there, Culhwch. It has given me plenty to mull over. Thanks for the the time you took to this.

You are probably correct, Miladysa, I may have put too many characters into this excerpt. But I have this sort of hangup about fantasy. I have read so many fantasy stories where you only meet a handful of people and then suddenly there are armies of tens of thousands appearing out of nowhere. My problem is that I have possibly created too many characters.