Excerpt: George and the Dragon

"We take Eresburg," Charles said to him, with a nod in his direction. "George, Hohen-Syburg is yours."

"And what of the Saxons?" Adalgisus asked.

"Demand hostages," Charles decided. He frowned, and then shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts. "They may forsake them again, as they did here, but it gives us leverage. Take hostages. We will do what we need with the rest to ensure peace."

George let his hand fall to the table, scratching idly at the grains. Woradus looked pacified, but Adalgisus seemed less convinced; the lines on his brow belayed his hesitation, yet he voiced nothing. Charles stood, and the table followed, and the conversation was effectively over. With a bow and the slow sign of the cross across his chest, George followed Taurin from the chamber and back through the looming double doors, into the sunlight.

Taurin turned to him, face alight with the midday warmth.

"We will ride today when Charles is prepared," he said, adjusting the helm on his head again, etchings on the side bleaching out with the light. "Gather your men at the ridge, and we shall march together towards the river."

"And my men?" George asked. "What do I tell them?"

"That we are doing the work of our king and our God," Taurin explained. The sides of his mouth quirked upwards, and he put a hand on George's shoulder, fingers curling around the bone.

"Very good," George said. "We will be there within the hour."

Taurin breathed in deeply and closed his eyes; the creases of the skin held shadows in harsh relief to the rest of his face. His shoulders squared and he let out the air slowly, smiling and nodding.

"It is a good day for a war," he mused, and turned towards his cunei with a briskness to his step, leaving George alone on the path of the manse.