Basil watched with a growing sense of awe, and a fair bit of confusion, as more than three-quarters of the host assembled outside the camp's wooden walls. He felt small amidst the forest of spears, his eyes tracking the various banners that snapped in the morning breeze.
He recognized the silver star of the Lord of Helvius and the black stag of the Megioduroli; he knew the stag well, for they were currently treading upon the very lands that house called home. Then there were the Herculian standards: the Bloody Fist of Aligulae and the Sword of Aesontia. These were the heavyweights of the annexed south, houses that had possessed the wisdom to deny the last Herculian prince his folly against Alpheo and saw wisdom in sworning to his mother.
They were the strongest of the new vassals, yet Basil watched them with a wary eye.
