The dark lord Szadrin looked at his closets champions as they slowly took seat in the council hall. A few wax candles lit up thier faces. Since the night, the city of Ahrem had fallen into the hands of Szadrin and darkness ruled unrestricted. The light was the enemy and the dark the eternal refreshing coolness and the source of true power. Szadrin noticed the thin crescent moon in the starry sky through one of the windows in the hall. How long would his reign last? He asked himself. It had been the waerloga Anexigal that spurred him to usurp the power, that once had been in the hands of his brother Orogahl. Szadrin knew that time was short and that only one mighty warrior stood in his way to claim real power, Captain Angus. He slammed his staff on the stone floor to call upon the attention of the champions.

The sky was dark and a sweet rain fell as the reiters gathered around Angus, their captain. The last weeks push forward had been hard and very demanding. Angus praised the reiters for thier capture of the bridge over river Gruhdok. All roads led to the city of Ahrem, in front, the vast forrest of Arrham and beyond it the open plains. Angus knew he was the last defence and that his decision to take the army and march all the way to Ahrem was bold. Sometimes he doubted himself when he saw his soldiers die. He could not help thinking it might be in vain. But to sit and let Szadrin bring war to the homeland was no option. Angus mounted his horse and joined the heroic reiters as they all rode to join the main army. The moral among the common soldier was high when they saw the 400 reiters behind thier mighty captain.

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