Brandon Bright

A thunderous blow awakened the young Lord Brandon from his slumber. As he struggled out of his bed he realised that a storm had hit the region without warning.

"Hmm, a bad omen," Brandon said softly as he stared out of his window. His quarters were situated in Fort Bright's tallest tower, allowing him to see everything in and around the fort. He watched from above as his father's army prepared for the battle to come. Even in the storm the men filled the training grounds, honing their skills in combat. Brandon could not help but to feel proud of what he saw in his men. Leaving his chambers, he started making his way down the tower into the training grounds. He had always preferred being closer to his men, this had been the reason for him not living in the main hall with the rest of his family.

The captain of Lord Bright's forces was the first man Brandon saw as he entered the square where the sounds of steel crashing were all to be heard.

"Morning, your Lordship. The men are eager for battle."

"Eager? I'd say hungry for battle is a more fitting term. I have never seen them this driven, Ser Gregory," Brandon looked around at all of his men, pride beaming from his face.

Ser Gregory had been a captain in the Bright army since Brandon could hold a sword on his own, he had won many battles for the late Lord Conor Bright and his prowess in battle had hardly faded in the last few years.

"Hungry indeed, my Lord. But not ready, not from what I am seeing."

"Not ready? Has your age blinded you?" Brandon seemed confused with Ser Gregory's statement.

"A great portion of these lads have never ever seen the Southern border, let alone the Southlands. Knowing your terrain is as crucial as knowing how to plant your feet when swinging a sword," Ser Gregory exclaimed with a heavy sigh, obviously wishing that Brandon would understand this. After all, it was Ser Gregory who taught Brandon everything he knew.

"Be that as it may Gregory, Hartsend is filled with drunkards and old men who-"

"Old men who defeated your grandfather in battle and took the South from us, remember who you speak of boy." Gregory said, rudely interrupting his lord.

This was not something Gregory would usually do as he always kept his lords in high regards but he knew honeyed words would not prepare Brandon for the battle to come. Ser Gregory surveyed the courtyard, looking for any man towering above his fellow soldiers. His eyes fell on a large bear of a man, wielding an axe the size of Brandon himself.

"Aha! You there!" he shouted to the large man who then eagerly came jogging towards them.

"Yes Ser Gregory?" the large man asked, seeming baffled.

"You, my dear beast of a man, will be sparring with young lord Bright this morning," Gregory said with a smile on his face.

"I would not wish to hurt my young Lord, Ser Gregory, maybe I could-"

"Hurt? You would be lucky to even land a blow," Brandon said chuckling.

"Bring me a wooden sword!" Brandon yelled to the quartermaster. "And whatever this oaf prefers!"

The other soldiers quickly cleared the square, excited to see their young lord in action again. Brandon cockily removed his breastplate, engraved with a single ember resembling their family insignia. The large man humbly accepted his wooden axe from thee quartermaster and prepared himself for the battle against his young lord.

Brandon stood in the rain, his golden hair drenched and swept back hanging just below his neck. His physique was impressive for a lord and Brandon himself was quite tall, unfortunately not as tall as his current opponent.

"I do not want anyone breaking any bones today lads, we march soon!" Ser Gregory yelled from the side, still smiling about what's happening.

"You ready, oaf?" Brandon yelled as he calmly approached his opponent.

The large man immediately rushed towards Brandon, charging him like a bull. With a quick step to the left, Brandon dodged the charge and composed himself again, quickly planting his feet. He underestimated the large man's speed. He attacked, swinging and thrusting his wooden sword relentlessly at his opponent, trying to tire him out. The large man suddenly grabbed Brandon's sword, breaking it in two with his own weapon and then quickly met the young lord with a thudding head butt which echoed throughout the square.

Murmurs could be heard as the young lord was suddenly sent to the ground, blood already pouring from his nose.

"My lord!" the large man seemed afraid of what he had done. "Let me help you to your feet."

"Quiet you fool." Brandon said as he stood up out of the muddy grounds of the square, not even phased with the blow he took.

Before the large man could utter another word, Brandon was storming him. The man swung his axe but missed as Brandon came sliding in the mud attacking his opponents groin, bringing him to his knees. Brandon then unleashed a flurry of strikes to his opponent's head, rendering him unconscious and bloodied within seconds. Cheers from the lord's soldiers began and rose to be deafening in the square, clearly stating the joy that these men had for battle and blood.

"Are you amused Gregory?" Brandon asked, gasping for air.

Laughingly Gregory approached the young lord, "Amused is an understatement my lord, clearly you are ready for battle."

The large man rose to his feet to join his brothers, thanking lord Bright for a chance at besting him. Ser Gregory turned to the soldiers clearing his throat.

"Men! Ready yourselves today both mentally and physically, for tomorrow we march on Hartsend!"

The men all roared and rose their weapons to salute their captain and lord.