The army began to move before sunrise.
A thin mist covered the Third Region as soldiers lined up in rows. Horses stamped their feet against the cold ground. Armor clinked softly in the quiet morning air.
Ernest mounted his horse without ceremony.
"I leave the third region to your care," Ernest said to a commander who was standing by the side.
"Your highness, rest assured all the Lord's has bend the knee. The third region only listento you," the commander said.
Ernest was pleased with what he heard. He nodded his head. And steady himself on the horse. Ernest was not wearing royal robes. He wore dark armor, simple but strong. A deep blue cloak rested on his shoulders, moving lightly in the wind.
They were marching toward the royal city.
As they left the Third Region, news spread ahead of them like wildfire.
In small villages, farmers stopped their work to watch the long line of soldiers pass.
Some knelt quietly.
Some whispered, "It is Prince Ernest."
"The one the chosen,"
