Then a messenger finally arrived with the long-awaited message from the field marshal. It read as follows:

  Praise be to the Almighty! Praise the martyrs!

  The city of Greifenburg has not fallen. However, the rulers of the regime are still hiding behind its walls. So, we have decided to lay siege to them in order to cut off the head of the snake. Despite an influx of new comrades in arms, it is still impossible to conquer such a fortress with only the soldiers we have at the moment. I, therefore, ask for all the help and supplies you can spare.

  Yours,

  Field Marshal Theodor

  With that, it was clear to everyone what had to be done. The order was given, that all expendable troops in Meglarsbruck were to be sent north-west to Greifenburg to conquer the metropolis. Consequently, major preparations began, which Wenzel watched with fascination. The masses of new recruits for the so-called People's Army were now being mustered and organised into companies, brigades and regiments. Each of the army units was presented with an experienced member of the Martyrs' Brigades as its commander.

  Together with Brahm and Ferenc, Wenzel sat on the steps of the palace and looked down onto the square in front, where the men were all being organised. Due to the huge crowds, the muster simply took this form: The candidates walked individually through several "arches", which consisted of pikes tied together at the top, consequently forming a triangular passageway. The colonel would scrutinise their physical fitness and, if necessary, invalid them out, if they were visibly unsuitable for battle. That was it. There were no more requirements for recruitment at the moment. After that, the men would receive weapons and armour, if they didn't have any themselves. It was an absolute spectacle for the boy to witness. Most of them were young men, but there were also a few older, more experienced warriors who had deserted the regime's troops. Most of them appeared to be plagued by poverty. Old, ragtag clothes, dirty faces, unwashed hair and half-rusty weapons were to be seen all too often. There were also flags on display now, which, as Ferenc explained to him, were the flags of the former Ordan Empire: a red flag emblazoned with a golden sun with curved rays. These flags, now displayed everywhere for the first time, looked ancient and had probably been mothballed somewhere for decades.

  As he had been sitting there for a while, watching the hustle and bustle from afar with interest, Petra passed him. She turned to the three of them and grumbled: "Don't you have anything better to do? Make yourselves useful!" Brahm took offence at this and countered: "What right does a woman have to speak to our Chosen One like that? You'd better be on your way somewhere!" - "I am indeed, my lord! Should you get bored of watching this, you can take a look at what your warriors have done to the statue in front of the great cathedral. Goodbye!" Her almost friendly tone was of course meant sarcastically. Brahm huffed: "If August or Theodor were present, she wouldn't dare to do something like that!" Wenzel didn't take it quite so badly, but he was still interested in what was supposed to have happened to the equestrian statue in the square in front of the Cathedral of the Annunciation. The men went there and found it toppled over. As it turned out, the Kashar warriors among the Martyrs had seen the monument as a sign of the oppression of their people by the Alethics and had consequently knocked it down. They were right, as it had been erected to mark the twentieth anniversary of the regime's victory over the Hordes.

  This made Wenzel realise once again how fierce and deep the emotions of their fighters were here. They were fighting out of conviction and for a better future. How many people had already died in the fight against tyranny? And how many more would die now? Especially now that this was happening in HIS name, Wenzel mulled over this and reproached himself for it, something which he didn’t share with anyone. But he was powerless here. Despite him being the Chosen One, he was still powerless at the end of the day. More blood would be shed, that could not be prevented.

  At night, Wenzel had another one of his dreams. It was less strange, which raised the question of whether it meant anything and, if it did, what exactly it meant. In the dream, he was walking across a wide grassy plain. High, snow-covered mountains could be seen in the distance. An icy wind blew from their direction, howling around him. Then, far away, he could see something brown approaching. As it came closer and closer, he could make out that it was a huge bear. When the creature spotted him, it began to roar and ran at him. Full of fear, he fled. He fled from the bear out of the mountains. He ran along the endless expanse of grassland. This is where the vision ended. Mysterious as always.

  The next morning everything was ready. It was the day of departure. Beginning with sunrise, there was a hustle and bustle everywhere and men ran back and forth to pack and prepare everything they needed. Wenzel would also be coming with them. In the corridor, he met August, who was instructing a few soldiers what they should do. When they left and the man turned around, he almost ran into the magician. "Ho! Watch out, boy!" The lad had a question for the chief of staff: "So, you want to go too, August? Wouldn't it be better if..." - "Yes, I'm definitely coming along. This will be our biggest challenge yet. The siege of a large, fortified city is no walk in the park! Our men need me." This made sense to Wenzel, even if he had his doubts as to whether the gentleman would be able to withstand the strain from this undertaking, considering his injured leg. However, August had obviously been told something similar from his wife, which is why he had interrupted the young man as soon as he had asked him. From his point of view, it was also a matter of honour, that he was part of the great campaign against the regime.

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  Wenzel continued on his way so that he would have his personal bag and baggage ready for when the campaign kicked off. When he was out of sight, August quickly summoned two subordinate Martyrs. "Lads, I've got another job for you. But don't tell anyone about it." He then whispered something to the two of them. At first, they stared at the man in surprise when they heard his words. "The field marshal's orders are to be obeyed. He is the highest in the chain of command, you know that," the chief of staff then added. After a brief hesitation, the two saluted and marched off.

  Meanwhile, on the wide streets of Meglarsbruck, a huge military formation had been lined up in rank and file. From the windows, those residents who had not fled their town after its capture looked down in amazement. Some even waved to the soldiers or shouted various things at them. A short time later, everything was ready for departure. Petra and Irnfrid would stay here while the men went off to war. For the time being, a trusted person they had chosen would take control of the city, as Lieutenant Field Marshal Tassilo would also be on the campaign. Together with August, Wenzel led the vanguard of the army. Like everyone else, he was not in full armour, as the journey to Greifenburg would take several days. Ordania was clearly a very large country.

  "Boom, boom! Boom, boom!" The sound of the war drums signalled their departure. Many people waved goodbye to them from their houses or from the street. Petra and Irnfrid did the same. The red flag of the martyrs and the red and gold sun flag of the Ordanian Empire fluttered in the wind as the huge army train set off. The countless footsteps of the marching army echoed through the streets of the city. At the west gate, they set off on their arduous journey. At first, a few men were still chatting to each other, but this soon more and more gave way to silence. After the first few hours, however, some in the back rows began to sing marching songs without being asked.

  The drummers beat the rhythm,

  the sunflag’s flying high,

  we march onwards to fight ‘em,

  we won’t be standing by.

  The sounds are getting louder,

  of battle and of war,

  We disregard the doubter,

  he’ll hush forevermore.

  Farewell, my dear, I bid you

  I hope you’ll think of me,

  when the evil tyrants rear,

  is beaten gleefully.

  That was one of the songs that could be heard. The lyrics were rather simple and sometimes even crude. If the commanders didn't like a song, they ordered their soldiers to stop singing. Soon afterwards, however, they would already start singing the next song.

  They travelled along the fertile, hilly landscapes of Central Ordania. There was nothing but fields far and wide, even though the seed was just beginning to grow. Having climbed to the top of a large hill, Wenzel, sitting in the saddle, turned round and looked back at the army. It was only at this moment that he realised how immense and epochal the events were, in which he himself was now taking part. Behind him, a sea of people stretched out for kilometres. A seemingly endless procession of soldiers snaked like a dragon along the long streets of the country, followed by an equally huge baggage train. The revolution was marching! This was not the adventure he had once imagined or wished for. Nor was it about him, even if some people might think it was. This thing was much bigger than him. It was the people's revolt against tyranny and it was a cry for freedom! The Martyrs’ Brigades were just the outlet through which the pressure, that had been building up for so many decades, was now being released.

  Before they went to sleep for a few hours, Wenzel wanted to have a little chat with the men. August would have been against it, of course, but the lad simply rode back through the ranks without asking him. He only introduced himself to the fighters by his first name. Their reaction when they saw him was a quick salute, assuming from his two bodyguards that he was one of the higher-ups of the military, despite looking quite young. Afterwards he sat down with them and they chatted a little about everything under the sun. Wrapped in blankets, as the temperature fell still quite low after sunset, they sat together around a campfire and told each other stories. Some of the stories were funny, like the one about someone who once stole the butcher's sausages, but others were sad, like the one about the child whose father was taken away by the Inquisition one day and never returned home. When a fellow soldier told this story, everyone fell silent. Immediately afterwards, they changed the subject to lighten the mood. Many here had experienced tragedies or at least heard about them from others. Yet, no one here was downcast. No, on the contrary, they all were full of hope and confidence. The future would be better. They would see to it with their own hands. When it was high time to rest, Wenzel also went back to the front of the train and got some sleep.

  A couple of days later, they arrived at their destination.