On the frontlines

Kingsley held up his hand, signaling the relatively small group of two hundred marching behind him to come to a halt. They had a series of groups like this marching around to their positions along the high ground of the hills, preparing for the battle that would take place in the valley below the next day. Knights dismounted their horses as squires gathered supplies to make camp for the night, and Kingsley stayed mounted, looking out into the valley and making plans.

Greeves pulled his own horse up beside Kingsley's and greeted him with a soft, "Commander." He waited patiently as Kingsley thought about what was to come the next day, what orders were, and how to go about executing them. Greeves had worked with Kingsley for ten years, and fought beside him in three separate wars. He had watched Kingsley climb the ranks, learn to lead, and become a force to be reckoned with. Most knew that Greeves was no lesser man than Kingsley, but did not feel the need to climb, and was satisfied to work beside Kingsley. They had learned to trust each other. They were forged as a pair, a sword and shield for the king, to protect his lands and bring him new ones.

"We have the tactical land," Kingsley eventually spoke aloud. "Our archers will be able to rain death upon them as they approach. But the moment we need to descend, we will find ourselves struggling. The cliffsides are too steep. The horses will hardly want to attempt them, and our enemies will find themselves on much more solid footing as we slide down to meet them."

"The logical decision would be too find a more gentle path down," Greeves said, knowing already what his friend would say in response.

"Yes, but that path would take significantly longer to descend, and leave an open path for them to advance upon. If they were to send even a few up the center as we moved around to meet them, they would be able to attack not only us from behind, but our allies as well."

"Would we truly have a need to fall on them? If we can make them come up to us on the top of the hill, we will be able to simply hold them back from a-high."

"That is assuming that we can make them feel like they can approach. They know that we have the advantage as long as we stay up here. They would have to be insane to approach us."

Greeves fell quiet, an the two looked out over the valley. The sun was hanging low in the sky, painting the horizon brilliant shades or red and orange. The next day, the valley would be painted with those very colors. They hoped to be the painters, not the paint.

Kingsley sighed and dismounted, leading his horse back to camp, and Greeves followed suit. "Perhaps it would be best to eat before giving it anymore thought," Kingsley said. "It has been a long day."

"Aye," Greeves agreed. "That it has."