I had expected a test, but I had not expected him to throw me into battle the very next day.
The enemy had sent a raiding force—fast, merciless, meant to weaken our defenses before a larger siege. Cyrus made it simple.
I was to lead the counterattack.
No second-in-command. No support. Just me and the soldiers who still remembered my name.
As I rode out onto the battlefield once more, my sword firm in my grasp, the weight of my armor settling over my skin like an old memory, I exhaled.
This was where I belonged.
The enemy approached—swift, brutal, underestimating me.
A mistake.
I grinned.
And then I charged.