Brigga had removed the cloak over his true identity. The fires of knowledge embedded upon his name like a sparkling jewel had now come into light. He was a Rathmor, from a line of ancient warriors.

He stood on a lone beach, looking out to sea, reminiscing of the past few days.
"I am sorry to have kept this from you, but i feared i may encounter enemies. However, i am now fully armed and ready for anything." He said in the conference room, and had took his spear down from the wall and flexed it, which he was applauded by friends.

Brigga had been training hard at the barracks and had suddenly the urge for wanderlust. It hadnt been long during his travels to Belgae that he recieved a visitor.

A young man upon a steed came galloping towards him. Brigga slowly leant his spear across his arm, waiting for the moment to strike and topple both foes.
He tactfully worked out a procedure.
He would first stop the horse in its tracks, something he hated doing, for he loved animals.
Then his shield would swing around as the man fell with his steed and strike him. The man would rise, probably drawing his sword, Brigga would lean into his attack slanting his shield and placing his spear close to the man, and wait for an answer.

It all seemed too dramatic just to get an answer, but Brigga had regretted it from past encounters. Hesitation had left a long scar down his back.

The steed drew closer, though Brigga stood still, he did not turn. He watched within his cloak, his eyes hiding in darkness.
The man drew something from himself, and carefully half circled in front of Brigga, keeping distance.
Anything could happen now... Brigga thought.
His shield lay across his back. If a projectile came his way he would gauge distance and roll, withdrawing his shield the way his father had taught him.
"You!" The man shouted.
Brigga stayed quiet, watching.
"You are... Brigga Rathmor, Locum of the Gaul tribe, are you not?"
Brigga started walking towards the man.
"Hold! Do not advance any further!"
"Who is asking."
"A messenger of May, Archon of the Gauls."
"Proceed."
The sand caught up in the sea breeze and pattered upon the man's scroll which he had earlier withdrawn.
The man furrowed his brow as he began to read the inscription.
"Brigga Rathmor, you are to return to Bretagne as soon as possible. You are needed most urgently, in conquest against our barbarian neighbours. Safe journey, May"
The man unfolded the scroll, expecting a response, though he recieved none.
The breeze changed and Brigga's hood blew back, revealing his face and scars.
There was silence for a moment.
"May requested that i take you back by horse. I have brought a spare horse for you, it awaits you along with a mounted guard."
"Very well." Brigga responded, not wanting to offend May's generosity.
"Would you care to mount?" The man asked, stretching out his hand.
"No, i would not." Brigga said, placing his spear upon his right shoulder.
"As you wish." The man replied.
Brigga watched the man carefully, and almost threateningly. The man gradually distanced himself from Brigga as they walked towards the clifftop where their entourage awaited.

Barbarians eh? Brigga thought to himself.
Ill show may how important individuals are in battle.