Warlock

Chapter One
An alarm was sounded as soon as the lookout spotted the flutter of a battle flag at the distant end of the wide fields that surrounded the principle fortification of Aradan. Even as the first soldiers crested the rise, the gates of Aradan Castle were swiftly closed and locked down tight with the great timber braces that took ten men to fit them in place. All along the walls, the men at arms checked their weapons and then waited in rigid tension, staring hard into the distance, watching as the small dots on the distant horizon slowly began to resolve themselves into men garbed in gleaming armor and battle horses decked out in the trappings of war. In the keep below the walls men at arms who had been loitering in the keep, cleaning weaponry and armor, practicing their craft, or whiling away their free time gambling their meager pay, froze at the sound of the warning horn and the sudden activity on the walls for a handful of minutes. Abruptly, they sprang into action themselves, racing to the armory to don leather armor and gather swords and long bows and quivers full of arrows. King Gerard had never been a popular king and they knew he had many more enemies than friends or allies among his neighbors.
Still, relief flooded the hearts of many as they took up their battle positions along the walls and stared out toward the threat approaching their keep. The army that marched forward with such discipline and precision--if it deserved such an exalted name--was a small one. They made up nearly thrice that number and had the added advantage of position.
Puzzlement began to take the place of their uneasiness as the army advanced purposefully, still displaying battle readiness, still flying the colors of war. None recognized the crest on the tabard of the man who led the army, but he wore the gold and purple of a king.
Their confusion intensified as the army halted at a signal from their leader before they'd covered much more than half the distance between the castle and the rise where they had first appeared. Expecting a messenger to break away and ride forward with their demands, a murmur of surprise rippled through the waiting troops as the leader himself left his army and came forward. Without any sign of wariness or hesitation, he spurred his great black horse with his spurs and closed the distance, bringing his restive mount to a halt only when he reached the outer rim of the moat, when he was so close that many of those on the wall above him could see his face clearly.