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hair and beard of a warrior from the Northern Kingdom of Man. Geleiden was the other of his top captains, and was bonded to a grey wolf.
    “Can I not have a moment to catch my breath?” Arnwylf smiled with slight annoyance.
    “Of course, my Lord,” Geleiden said with an apologetic smile.
    “And do not call me ‘your Lord’,” Arnwylf growled, turning on Geleiden. “I am no person’s ‘Lord’.”
    “But you are a direct heir to the throne of the Weald, and second in line for the throne of Reia,” Geleiden said.
    “I have no wish to rule any human,” Arnwylf said. “And I am not second in line to the throne of Reia. I am third. Please do not disrespect my cousin Hetwing in such a manner.” Then, Arnwylf abruptly turned and left the company of his captains, to entered his tent. Conniker the white wolf positioned himself at the entrance, and all knew better than to provoke the white wolf.
    The spirit of his father was already waiting for him in his sparsely furnished tent.
    “Why do you scorn their allegiance?” Kellabald asked.
    “I do not scorn anything,” Arnwylf hotly answered. “For an allegiance is not a thing, nor is a kingship, nor is a lineage, nor a nation. All these factions and groupings have set human against human over and over, from the beginning of time.” Arnwylf stared down at the ground, feeling guilty for having spoken so rashly to his father, even if it was only his imagination. “When human can accept any other human, in this world, regardless of their lineage, their tribe, or the color of their hair, we will have a true Ailliaden here on earth.”
    The ghost of Kellabald smiled, pleased, then faded.
    Outside the tent Conniker growled low and menacing. Arnwylf knew it meant someone wanted to speak with him. Arnwylf strode to the entrance of his tent. As he exited, he patted Conniker to calm him.
    Outside Arnwylf’s tent, Geleiden waited with several men.
    “Lord Arnwylf-” Geleiden started than caught himself. “Arnwylf, these men wish to join us.”
    Arnwylf looked up to see twelve bedraggled warriors huddled together, fearful expectation in their eyes.
    “Where do you come from?” Arnwylf asked.
    Their leader stepped forward, bowed, and then said, “we were with the army gathering in Apghilis camp.”
    “He has men to lead?” Arnwylf said derisively.
    “In the Northern wastes, just to the east of the mountains of Kipleth,” the soldier said.
    “And what nation do you originally hail from?” Arnwylf asked.
    “We were of the Kingdom of Man,” the soldier replied. “You can ask Geleiden, though he was but a boy, he knew of us, and can vouch for our loyalty.”
    “But you have left the loyalty of Apghilis,” Arnwylf said. “How do I not know you will do the same to me?”
    The soldier looked down with worried humility.
    “Why did you join Apghilis in the first place?” Arnwylf asked. “Why did you not come here first?”
    “We are of the Northern Kingdom of Man,” the soldier said, “and are a proud race. Most of the soldiers of Man do not like how you move across our land with impunity. We now know it was foolishness, and that Apghilis is a liar.”
    “And how many do not see their foolishness and do believe Apghilis?” Arnwylf asked.
    The soldiers muttered to each other. Then their leader stepped forward.
    “We feel as though you ask us to betray our brothers,” the soldier carefully said.
    “What is your name?” Arnwylf asked.
    “I am  Cargent,” the soldier said. “I was once an atheling of the Kingdom of Man. And so, I have a right to leadership.”
    “Well, Cargent,” Arnwylf coldly said, “You may fight with us, if you believe it is the right thing to do. But you have no right to lead here in this army. If you desert us as you have deserted Apghilis, expect no future mercy.” Arnwylf paused, and looked to see his father sternly staring at him. “I am glad you now know Apghilis is a liar,” Arnwylf gently said. “I welcome you with open