The sun was not yet risen when Régnwald had awoken that morning. The time had come for Dryhtengemót, the high military council of the East-mark held once in each season, in Aldburg.
He rose quickly and ate what breakfast he could, he was to ready himself for the ride, and do it swiftly. He donned his armour as swift as he may, clasping the clasps, and buckling the buckles. Soon, grabbing his spear, he made his way for the door.
It was raining. Régnwald strode into the stables with a saddle in his arms, wandering his eyes around. The torches were lit and there was dim light cast upon the darkened floors of Harwick. As usual, greeting his horse, he climbed upon Gramlic. He checked him and began cantering round the training area in silence. He was thoughtful at this rainy dawn ere it came bright with sunlight.
A small company of ten horsemen formed a straight line before him, and one of them, a weathered horseman came forward.
He bowed his head and said, ''All preparations are set, my lord. Foods were packed and water was stored. We are ready to ride out on your word."
Régnwald straightened and laid a hand on his belt, "Very well, then we shall go." he replied under his plumed helmet and paused a moment. Régnwald pulled on the reins of his horse, causing it to give a low whinny. "We ride south!" he yelled, and this time his only response was the thudding of ten hooves on the dusty brown grass. He kicked the side of his steed lightly, making it to move on swiftly out of the burg.
They rode on through the afternoon. The sun shone on the dried grasses. They rode further still. Gramlic was full of vigor, happy to be running again. He would attempt to take the lead without his master's consent, his usual place in the herd of ruled horses, but Régnwald pulled him back beside Redgar.
A chill wind had stirred when they crested another hill on their mounts. Hours passed, as did the miles, and they kept treading the hooves through the south, to the old capital.
