— April 6th 998 NH - Late Afternoon - Nathwor, Bordertown —

The war that lasted 100 years is finally over.

At the head of the army they ride, Alexandor in pace with Marcus Solomon. His horse snorts and stays in pace with Marcus's own mare. Glancing behind them a huge river of men tired from battle and eager to return home. All dressed in lighter armor for the long trek as some walk and other ride. But all of them in much lighter spirits than ever before. Through tired chatter, footsteps, and hoof-beats are mixed with laughter.

Turning his gaze forward to his dearest friend he sees the distant look in his eyes. He knows that look, he's worn it himself too on occasion. Back home there is no one for either of them. No family, no wife or children, no relatives save for Marcus's odd cousin. Not even a loyal hound to come bounding out with delight at his master's return. They are both orphans, both alone, and both bound to each other closer than brothers.

As they crest the hill Bordertown comes into view. A smirk plays on his lips at the name since it outgrew town some centuries back. Yet the citizens refuse to rename it and hold true to old traditions. It is here in which they will finally cross through and into Bremor kingdom once more.

Alexandor points ahead. "There she is, Your Majesty. One last stop before home." Though his words fall on deaf ears as Marcus is still lost in his own thoughts. The empty castle that awaits him. "Your Majesty." He tires again before glancing back. Seeing that there is some distance between them and the nearest soldier his tone turns more brotherly, "Marcus."

That catches his attention, as it normally does when he is lost in thought. Marcus nods, "Yes, we'll make camp here tonight. Let the men go into town and enjoy themselves. It is a day of celebration after all."

Alexandor nods with a smile, "Yes, that they have." Turning his horse towards the line he rides down and shouts the order. Cheers erupt so loud it startles his warhorse, Ramsteed. The sound rolls through the ranks, a tidal wave of relief that could shake mountains. Even Marcus cracks a faint smile, and that alone feels like victory.

Hours later tents are made, fires lit, and men have scattered about both camp and towards city. Enough remain to keep watch over the camp so it does not remain empty or that they overwhelm the population with their numbers. Though for the size of Bordertown it would fit them all without trouble, Alexandor doubts there are enough taverns and alehouses for them all at once. Still songs fill the campsite while others rest or write letters that will reach home before they do. During the calm before the sun begins its shift to evening colors, Alexandor tosses a familiar common foot-soldier's tunic to Marcus. Alexandor already wearing a matching one with cloak. "Come on then, one more time before heading home?"

The smile on Marcus's face as he slips into his tent to change says it all.

Together they enter through the southern gates and into the bustling city. Market streets still busy with selling their wares as the citizens of Bordertown go about their daily tasks even with the Bremor army at their city's doorstep. As they walk the streets Alexandor points out the famous tavern, Dragon's Nest with a playful smirk. "Seem fitting, don't you think?" Marcus's response is a light jab with his elbow to which Alexandor merely laughs.