silver ones or

Another of the royal soldiers fell to the ground, silenced by a sword of evil. The field officer desperately deflected three blades at once and continued to retreat, nearly overwhelmed by the skill and number of his enemies. The elite dark warriors that had encircled him and four others were master swordsmen, and they had already killed two of the well trained Lothington soldiers. Despite the field officer and his comrades' best efforts, they had been unable to stop even one of their opponents. Now, their hopes were not much higher. The field officer parried a thrust from his nearest opponent and moved the hilt of his sword to stop a cut from another. A third blade bypassed his guard and crashed into his helmet, causing him to stagger back several feet. Disoriented, he thrust at the closest of his enemies. His blade finally found its mark, and the first of the enemy masters went down. The other soldier encircled with the field officer was doing somewhat better. Despite the multiple dents in his armor and the blood flowing from the joint between his breastplate and shoulder piece, he continued to fight valiantly. Another blade slammed into his forearm with the force of a sledgehammer, but he still remained on his feet and fought back with a tenacity that even the skilled dark warriors were challenged by. Sensing an opening, the soldier brought a heavy cut into the head of his closest opponent and the enemy soldier collapsed. The field officer was on the verge of collapse. He had been hit four more times and although his armor had absorbed the strikes, his body was tiring and bruises were forming all over it. From what he could see outside the ring of enemy soldiers, his ten thousand infantry was being slowly pushed back. Several royal soldiers ran past him in terror, retreating as fast as their legs could carry them. Two more blades hit the field officer; one in the head and another between his knee and lower leg. The latter of the two swords bit through to his bone and he finally fell to the ground in agony, unable to continue fighting on his feet. Another blade streaked towards his torso and found the snow instead as he rolled to the side. He brought his sword in an arc against the legs of one of the enemy warriors, who staggered backward from the impact and tumbled over. The field officer pulled himself to his knees and raised his sword above his head with both hands to stop two more simultaneous cuts. Using the strength of his unharmed leg, he thrust his full weight into the closest enemy, grabbing him around the torso and toppling him like a block. Finally, outside of the circle, he slowly rose to his feet despite his throbbing knee. The other soldier that was trapped with him had also broken out and ran over to assist his comrade. He helped the field officer to his feet and helped to support him as they began walking from the field. The sudden blast of a war trumpet startled them both and they turned abruptly to face the sound. The relieving sight that reached their eyes made them both jump for joy. Marching in perfect formation, a sea of fresh crimson-clad soldiers were moving into position to engage the enemy. The full power of the Leaartrieyan army had arrived, and it immediately struck terror into the hearts of every soldier of the Dark Lord and Black Knight. The squad of soldiers that had nearly been the death of the field officer and his comrade stood in place, looking from them to the new reinforcements, unsure of what to do. They finally wandered aimlessly to meet the fresh army and were cut down almost immediately by the righteous anger of a nation scorned. The field officer, his energy renewed by this near-miraculous arrival, yelled for joy and rallied his men back into battle. They had been saved just in time. * * * Sir Gavin's horse finally went down, unable to remain standing due to its multiple wounds. He was thrown to the ground and his sword fell from his hand, but he quickly jumped to his feet. Enemy warriors struggled with what remained of the cavalry all around him, and several of the dark soldiers began to advance in his direction. He quickly recovered his sword and stood up just in time to stop the first cut. Using the momentum of his blade, he chopped at his enemy from the side and the warrior slumped over. The hurried drum of a horse from behind Sir Gavin caused him to step to the side. Expecting that he was the target of an enemy cavalryman, he raised his sword as the animal went by, but was surprised to see that the frightened horse was riderless. Sir Gavin knew that he would have a much better chance of survival if he could get back on a horse, and here was the perfect opportunity to do so. He ran forward and grasped the reins of the frightened animal, carefully moving to its side. Gingerly, he put his foot in the stirrup and threw his other leg over its back. The horse gave a slight rear but finally was calm as Sir Gavin turned him away from the enemy force. His cavalry was still in retreat and the enemy was massing for a counterattack. "Why doesn't the blasted army get here?!" he thought to himself once again. His force could not hold out any longer: he was going to have to sound a full retreat whether he wanted to or not. Sir Gavin cupped his hands and yelled the order, but was drowned out by another sound: the sound of a trumpet. With hope rising in his heart, Sir Gavin wheeled his horse in the direction of the resonant blast to see the entire royal army running into battle. With a shout of triumph, he turned his horse back to face the horrified enemy and sounded a jubilant order to attack. His cavalry, which moments ago was on the cusp of defeat, lifted their voices in a single battle cry and charged back to meet the foe. The battered and seemingly hopeless ship which no one thought would ever sail again was streaking back through the sea with more confidence than ever before. Sir Gavin cut his way forward through the shocked enemy force, which resisted gradually less to their advance. The enemy in their weakened state was caught by surprise for the third time that day. Dark soldiers ran frantically towards the new force, then turned and streaked back towards Sir Gavin's cavalry in total disarray, unable to decide who to fight. From Sir Gavin's left, he saw the hated black flag of the Dark Lord and Black Knight's personal entourage slowly move away from the battlefield. The Dark Lord was retreating, and much of his cavalry was following him. When the group of evil soldiers was away from the battlefield, however, they did not ride back north away from the Leaartrieyan border. Instead, they galloped southeast - straight towards the city of Lothington.

Sir Gavin sat waiting for the distant sound of yelling voices and crashing steel that he expected to hear at any moment. Still lying on the ground with his cavalry behind him, he continued to listen to the nonchalant conversations of the handful of enemy soldiers in front of him. Through the trees, he could barely see their black-clad forms as they moved amongst each other, walking the perimeter of their encampment. He could also see a number of large tents, as well as several towering cloth pavilions. This would be the perfect place to attack and an extremely vulnerable point of the enemy's position. Sir Gavin hoped that he could cause great alarm to the enemy force by his attack, thus drawing a number of dark soldiers off of the field officer's front. His ultimate goal was to confuse the Dark Lord's army of several hundred thousand with his comparatively minuscule group of ten thousand cavalry and the field officer's ten thousand infantry until the main royal force from the capital arrived to assist them. Before he could do anything, though, he had to have some confirmation that the field officer's infantry had engaged. After another few minutes of waiting, such confirmation came. An echoing shout rang through the trees, immediately followed by legions of yelling voices. The enemy guards before Sir Gavin's force stopped their patrol and listened for a moment before frantically running in the direction of the sound. Only one of them remained behind to watch the camp. Sir Gavin rose up from the ground and mounted his horse, signaling his force to do the same. After all were ready, they spurred their beasts forward and burst from the woods, shocking the single enemy guard. Sir Gavin motioned to two of the soldiers behind him to take the guard prisoner, as the man knew better than to try fighting such a force. The cavalry moved forward, weaving between the empty tents with care, but keeping a fast pace nonetheless. They encountered very few enemy soldiers within the encampment: most of them must have been rushed to stop the field officer's advance. Sir Gavin pressed his steed faster. The sounds of battle ahead were growing louder by the second and he knew that they were close to the enemy. The tents and trees to his sides flew by with lightning speed and his horse kicked up clouds of white from the wintry ground. Finally, the last of the tents flew behind him and the enemy army lie directly ahead. Sir Gavin slammed down the visor of his heavy steel helmet and slowly lowered his lance parallel to the ground. With a unison cry of "For the Kingdom!", Sir Gavin and his men thundered into battle. Their powerful horses pounded the ground as the rear line of enemy soldiers turned just in time to receive the points of their lances. They plowed into the midst of the enemy, pushing them aside like water under a ship. Instead of water, however, this ship had to journey through a vast sea of black, which sliced and cut at it like a furious kraken. The cavalry began to feel these cuts and slices more and more as they advanced. several of the horses near Sir Gavin reared and their riders fell into the merciless hands of the enemy soldiers. Sir Gavin's wooden lance shattered from impact against a dark warrior's armor, prompting him to switch to his sword. He battered at the foot soldiers below him, knocking many to the ground and driving many more away. Looking behind him, Sir Gavin saw that his formation was still advancing as quick as lightning. The wind in the sails of this ship was far from depleted. As they continued onward, Sir Gavin began to catch sight of royal foot soldiers on the other side of the enemy formations. His plans had done exactly what they were intended to do. With the field officer leading the other force, he had trapped the enemy between two lines. All that he needed to do now was hold this position until the royal army marched triumphantly into the forest. Sir Gavin felt a twinge of pain in his side which caused him to momentarily stop his sword. Looking down, he saw a tiny trickle of blood drop from a small hole in his gambeson. Suddenly, his horse neighed loudly and tried to rear, but he was able to get the animal back under control. The beast seemed in pain, however, and Sir Gavin soon found out why. Sticking from its rear haunch was an arrow from a longbow, a weapon which even the most skilled knights had learned to fear. This was likely the cause of the prick he had received in his armor. Archers were a dangerous threat - one that had to be eliminated if his cavalry were to advance with success. He turned his head back and forth, searching for the source of the projectiles until his eyes settled on a gently sloping hill about one hundred feet to his right. At its crest was a group of maybe fifty enemy longbowmen which hurled arrows down in a deadly fashion. Sir Gavin wheeled his horse in their direction and motioned for a portion of his cavalry to do the same. It was crucial that this obstacle be eliminated. The man next to Sir Gavin screamed and fell from his horse, a bloody arrow poking through the eye slit of his visor. Another one whizzed off the side of Sir Gavin's helmet, creating a metallic chink before skittering into the snow. The hail of arrows continued, inflicting multiple casualties upon the advancing column. Sir Gavin pressed his horse to move faster. His progress towards the hill seemed to be made at a snail's crawl due to the enemy foot soldiers in his way, but finally, his squad of men reached the crest of the rise. The archers loosed their last arrows before drawing their swords, and a brutal melee began. Sir Gavin's cavalry immediately regained the advantage that they had lost at a distance, and the archers suffered massive casualties before retreating in disorder. Sir Gavin had no time to bask in his victory. He quickly turned his horse and moved back to his main force, whose advance had finally ground to a halt. Many of his men lie sprawled upon the ground and more still were falling. Sir Gavin could not help but wonder where the royal army was. They should have been here by now," he thought to himself. More enemy soldiers were pouring into their front, and Sir Gavin was beginning to wonder how much longer he and his force could hold out. "Sir, they be flankin' us on th' right!" came Bartholomew's frantic voice. Sir Gavin swiveled his head towards the right flank, and the apprehension that he had begun to feel rose by tenfold. Hundreds, maybe thousands of enemy cavalry were hammering his flank, threatening to fold it and collapse the entire column. His men were fighting bravely, but against impossible odds. Now it was they, instead of the enemy, that were being mown down like grass. The enemy had recovered from the surprise attack and were beginning to use their strength in numbers with devastating effect. Another arrow bounced off of Sir Gavin's helmet, this time from the left. Looking in that direction, he saw four or five hundred enemy archers advancing towards his other flank. Despair filled Sir Gavin as he gave a frantic order to fall back. His men began to slowly move farther from the enemy and nearer to defeat. The great and mighty ship which had confidently churned its way into the shimmering sea of black was about to sink.

Thanks again! I am humbled by the complements and the effort that your putting into the approval process. Indeed, a climax is coming soon. We are getting closer to the end of the series, and the final conflict is soon to be solved!

Thanks to both of you! I'm glad this is entertaining ;)

I like both: Iced in summer and normal in winter. Are you writing a Christmas story for the AWS?

Thanks once again! As promised, Lackley finally emerges on the perspective of the knights with an inevitable battle. Even though his objective is not accomplished, his impact effects one of the other characters. The main conflict with the Dark Lord is yet unsolved and will be addressed in the final several chapters.

38,566

Sir Gavin pushed his horse to move faster despite the thick snow and patches of ice that covered the hard, frozen ground. The column of cavalry behind him did the same, and the infantry divisions that were at the rear changed their brisk walk to a run. His apprehension grew as they gradually neared the forest behind which the Dark Lord's massive force was bound to be hiding. Gregory had given them a map of the area, so locating the caves would not be hard. Catching the enemy by surprise would be, though. "Split!" Sir Gavin shouted to the army behind him. He heard officers pass the word down until all knew the order. The column slowly broke in half, leaving ten thousand infantry on one side and ten thousand cavalry on the other. "Officers, to me!" shouted Sir Gavin. The lower-ranking officers cantered their horses in his direction. "You know the plan," said Sir Gavin when they were all gathered around him. "Infantry advances slowly, directly towards the front of the enemy force to catch their attention. Engage with light skirmishes along their front, enough to keep them occupied but not so much that you lose large numbers of men. Cavalry move to their rear and attack when the signal is given. God be with you! Now go!" Sir Gavin dismissed the officers, who returned to their men and prepared to move. Slowly, the infantry split to the west, the direction that the enemy front was most likely to be facing since the Lothington force's battle lines were there, and the cavalry began galloping to the east, prepared to lie in wait until they were ready to make their move. Sir Gavin had sent the field officer with the infantry, while he and Bartholomew moved with the cavalry. Presently, the forest's edge came into view. The thick trees blew back and forth with the wind like giant grass stalks, their icy branches crunching against each other like leaves underfoot. The crashing of the branches and whistle of wind was good cover for the noise that their horses created as they wound through the narrow spaces between the wide trees. Sir Gavin signaled for his force to dismount, and they led their horses as silently as possible towards the enemy. Distant voices whispered through the trees: real voices. They were very close now. A few more feet, and Sir Gavin could hear most of the voices clearly. He made a downward motion with his hand, telling the others to lie on the ground and make their horses do so also. They were in position. It was only a matter of time before their moment of action was to come. * * * The field officer slowly moved his infantry forward over the icy steppes that led to the edge of the forest. He dismounted his horse and motioned for other officers to do the same so that they would not become an easy target for enemy archers. The sound of ice crunching under their feet seemed to grow louder with every step as they neared the wood line. The field officer only hoped that the noise would not tell the enemy of their presence before they were in position. No one in the group of ten thousand strong could see the enemy force behind the trees, but they knew they were there. The field officer had little doubt of the almost perfect evidence that led to the use of the caves ahead by the Dark Lord's army. The field officer saw a berm of snow just twenty feet ahead that wrapped around in a curve to meet the trees. Now he could truly take the enemy by surprise. When he reached the berm's edge, he signaled his force to crouch and move along the length of it until they reached the forest's edge. The field officer gave a ringing shout and drew his sword while throwing his hand forward, and his men charged over the berm. The battle for the fate of Leaartrieya had begun. Within seconds, an uproar of confused voices bellowed from the forest and the enemy army was immediately put in retreat. The early momentum caused some of the royal soldiers to shout victoriously, thinking that they had already won, but the field officer knew better. Surprise had been achieved with astounding success, but the plan was only half begun. An army the size of the Dark Lord's would quickly realize that it had the numbers advantage. The field officer could only hope that Sir Gavin and his cavalry were having success on the other side of the enemy and that the main army would reinforce them soon. The field officer began to clamber over the snowy berm to join the fray but was stopped by one of the lesser officers. "Sir, the envoy that we dispatched to meet our main force from the capital and notify them of the situation was found dead not a mile outside the city o' Lothington. Had an arrow straight through 'im." The field officer started, a rising fear growing in his center. "Then that means they will go straight into the city and not directly here to reinforce us?" he asked waveringly. The other man looked grave. "Yes Sir, I fear that is right." The field officer tried not to panic despite the growing urge to do so. He knew that the army was crucial to the success of this operation. If they did not reach them in time - or at all - then their own attempt to stop the enemy would be a bloodbath. The field officer thought quickly. "Send another messenger under full guard back to the city to tell them the news. Double speed!" he shouted. The other officer nodded and ran to find men for the mission. The field officer finally cleared the berm and ran into the forest behind his men as they pushed the enemy farther back. Before him, he saw a gaping cave in the side of a small hill, undoubtedly one of the ones that the Dark Lord would have begun funneling hordes of soldiers into had they not arrived to stop him. A handful of dark warriors stood by the cave's entrance, desperately trying to fight off a number of royal soldiers that outnumbered them by twofold. They had apparently not fallen back with the rest of their army and were given no opportunity to do so now. Within a minute, the just swords of the Lothington troops had cut them to the ground. "Inspect all caves for enemy soldiers once you have cleared their entrances!" shouted the field officer in their direction as he continued to move forward. He wanted to make sure that none of the enemy force had already begun to move underground, en route to one of the kingdom's main cities. After moving another one hundred feet or so, the field officer began to notice that their advance was slowing down. It appeared that the dark army was beginning to fight back on a more organized level. After another fifty feet, their advance halted entirely and the rapidly moving battle line became stationary. The field officer pushed towards the front of his force, hewing down several enemy warriors on the way. He had almost made it to the front when a group of ten or twelve dark soldiers moved forward to stop him. The field officer could tell from the red plumes in their helmets that these were not just ordinary enemy troops, but elite warriors. They held massive great swords which they wielded as effortlessly as grass blades. The first one engaged him directly, and he was forced to retreat, nearly to the rear of his lines. Several of his men were engaged and pushed back with him until he and four others were encircled by the enemy squad. Before long, he was trapped in the battle of his life - one that he did not know if he could survive.

Thanks again! As the ending on this one may indicate, we are approaching the point at which the Lackley's and the knight's perspectives meet. I have actually finished the entire series over Thanksgiving, and will be posting them in installments as usual. I won't post them all at once for your sake, but one at a time probably. Have been editing the last couple chapters myself the past few days, so they should contain fewer errors. By the way, Happy late Thanksgiving to everyone reading this ;)

-402

The village doctor's face wordlessly expressed the reality that Sir Gavin had feared. He had hoped against hope that the sergeant could just hold out through the night; that he could possibly recover. The doctor's solemn countenance as he exited the room in which sergeant lay shattered those hopes in a million pieces. "I'm sorry, Sir." The words that Sir Gavin didn't want to hear were inevitable. "He's gone." Even though Sir Gavin knew deep down that this moment was coming, he still could not stop the several tears that slowly slid from his eyes. This was a brief moment of transformation from the brave, stone-faced Sir Gavin the soldier to just Gavin, a normal person with normal qualities. This moment highlighted the less obvious truths about Gavin; that he had emotions just like anyone else. Even though he had only known the sergeant for a little over a day, he knew that he had lost a friend and fellow soldier, and that the kingdom had lost a good man. "Thank you, doctor," he silently whispered. "I know you did all that you could." The doctor bowed his head. "Yes, I did. Sadly, there was not much that could be done." He began walking towards the exit of the inn, but stopped and turned back to Gavin. "Do you want me to tell the others?" he asked. Gavin slowly walked to where the doctor stood. "Aye, go ahead. I'll come with you." The two men stepped into the tavern from the back room, where Sir William, Bartholomew, Major Wilkins, and the field officer sat apprehensively around a table. They too seemed to sense the grievous news before it was spoken. "I am so sorry to tell you this, Sirs, but Sergeant Jeremy Watts just passed from this life," The doctor repeated to the others. None of them seemed surprised, but nearly all of them showed some emotion. Major Wilkins, a close friend of the sergeant Watts, took it the hardest. He eventually left the room, unable to hold back his tears. Sir William, still recovering from his own injuries, looked solemnly at the ground. He folded his hands, his lips moving in silent prayer. Bartholomew seemed extremely disturbed at the fact that the poor sergeant had died from fighting off an assassin that had been sent to kill him instead. His guilt was overwhelming. "I should be th' one dead. Not th' sargent, God rest his soul," he thought to himself. His hatred against the banner that he had once served grew in that moment: the moment he further realized the great evil that the Dark Lord and his subordinates stood for. Now he, instead of Desmond Lackley, was the one who wanted revenge. He would do what the sergeant could no longer do: he would fight for the side of good. "I suppose we should prepare the army to move." Sir Gavin broke the silence that hung over the room. His grief was not diminished in any way, but he knew he had a crucial task - one on which the fate of the kingdom rested. Sir William rose from his chair. "Agreed," he answered. Sir Gavin had told the Crimson Knight of his battle plan over the night, including the enemy's plan concerning the underground caves. "I think I can ride," continued the Crimson Knight. He took several limping steps across the room before sitting down again, barely able to catch his breath. "With all due respect, your Excellency, I think on the contrary. I fear you are not fit for battle," said Sir Gavin. "Your sword arm is still broken and in a sling. Stay here and rest. I can handle things in the field." Sir William looked frustrated but resigned to this statement, which he knew was true. "Very well then, you have control of the force. Just remember that the fate of all of us rests on you, Sir Gavin. I believe in your abilities." Sir Gavin nodded respectfully and turned to Major Wilkins. "Major, I know this is a lot to ask given the current state of affairs, but could you please post a guard outside this building? I want it protected very well. The major dabbed his red eyes with a kerchief before answering. "Y-yes Sir, I'll have it done immediately," he replied sobbingly. "I'll also stop by the poor sergeant's home and inform his dear wife of this terrible tragedy. She'll take it better from me since I'm a friend of the family's." Sir Gavin granted the major leave then turned to Bartholomew and the field officer. "We must prepare to move, Sirs. We'll have a funeral service for the poor sergeant when these invaders are defeated." "IF these invaders are defeated," He thought to himself. He hoped that they would be in time to stop the evil force before they were in the caves, already on their way to wreak havoc on the kingdom's other cities. The morning air was even colder than Sir Gavin expected and he chilled violently as he stepped out of the tavern. The sun had not completely risen, and the absence of its heat amplified the cutting temperature even more. A thin layer of slippery ice-covered nearly every surface, and it appeared that few of the city's residents wished to get out in it. Sir Gavin, Bartholomew, and the field officer practically ran to the barracks, not so much short on time, but rather on their ability to tolerate the brutal conditions. "We have to attack today," Sir Gavin thought to himself. The fate of the kingdom was more important than numb limbs. The trio soon reached the barracks building and began to rally the men. Within the hour, the entire force of almost twenty thousand strong was strung through Lothington's main street ready to march. Sir Gavin took his position at the front of the column and raised his hand forward, spurring his horse at the same time. They were on the way to complete their mission and complete it they would, even at the cost of their lives.

I like this concept, to be honest. Equipment specific battles have been a thing lacking in this game. Outside of xp/bp and xcr, there really aren't many modes. Plus I always get so fed up of the noob firebirds that fill up so many battles.

Just curious, but are you in college now? I know I just wrapped up the ACT and got the score I was shooting for. Will likely be in college come early summer if Covid lets up enough. I know all about isolation and being bored since that's pretty much been my life for the past months. However, I have found things to occupy myself like writing, schoolwork, etc. . .

Thanks again for the complements! I'm glad to see that the grammar in this one is better for both your sake and mine! I wanted to create a different frame of reference that would eventually tie into the main plot and I thought there wasn't a better way to do that than to write from the antagonists' point of view. In this case, I used a "pawn," so to speak, of the main antagonist that emulates the thoughts and actions of the Dark Lord and impacts the main plot. More to come on Lackley in the next chapter, as well as a twist involving one of the other characters.

-404

Sir Gavin was the first to reach the gaping hole in which the inn door once stood. After stumbling on a small patch of ice, he hurled himself over the threshold with the others behind him, sword drawn and eyes searching for the enemy. "Help! Help me!" The desperate cry came from the back room - where Sir William and Sergeant Watts were sleeping. Sir Gavin sprinted to the door of the room and finding it bolted, gave it a tremendous shove. When the push failed to open it, he slammed his entire weight against it and it shuddered violently but refused to give. "Help!" continued the voice from the other side of the room. It sounded like it belonged to Sergeant Watts. "Let's get this door down!" shouted Sir Gavin to his companions. They all ran against the solid wooden obstacle with their entire force and it finally cracked against the weight. Sir Gavin drew his sword and slammed its pommel upon the face of the door, sending the two fragmented halves of it tumbling upon the floor with a thunderous boom. Before them stood a warrior that was a head and a half taller than any of them. In one hand he held the entire night table that was beside sergeant Watt's cot, and in the other, he brandished a gleaming long knife. With a deafening roar of anger, the warrior hurled the table at sergeant Watts, who rolled off of his cot just in time to avoid getting hit with it. A spot of blood appeared on the sergeant's shirt as his wound from the previous night reopened. Sir Gavin lunged at the assassin, thrusting his sword at the same time. His target stepped to the side and the point of Sir Gavin's blade burrowed deep into the sergeant's mattress instead. Sir Gavin yanked at his entangled weapon, unable to free it before the brute was upon him. The long knife hurtled towards his throat and he was able to dodge it, but the warrior fell on top of him, pinning him to the ground. A moment later Bartholomew's blade came down upon the enemy soldier's back with a resounding thwack and he roared in pain, dropping the long knife. Sir Gavin seized this opportunity to jerk his sword from the mattress and roll his opponent off of him. As he was rising, he heard a sliding of steel as Sir William drew his sword on the other side of the room. Despite Bartholomew's strike, the warrior sprung to his feet with ease, taking hold of the cot. He picked up the entire thing and hurled it against the wall, pinning Sir Gavin, Bartholomew, Major Wilkins, and the field officer in place. The monster then jumped towards sergeant Watts, who grabbed a leg of the broken night table and swung it with all of his weakened might. The strike connected with the warrior's temple, knocking him back momentarily and allowing sergeant Watts to stand up straight. "Lackley, leave 'im alone!" thundered Bartholomew furiously. Desmond Lackley stopped in his tracks and spun around with a wicked contorted expression on his face. "You!" he screamed. Lackley began to run towards them, but Bartholomew was faster. He hurtled over the broken cot and charged right into Lackley's midriff, tumbling him to the ground and scattering the long knife across the floor. Sir William laboriously bent down to secure it on the other side of the room. Desmond swung a hammer-like fist at Bartholomew, who dodge it and threw a hard jab into his opponent's face. Lackley's head snapped back and his hand went to his nose, coming away red with blood. Another slow fist from the Dark warrior missed Bartholomew but connected with sergeant Watts instead, who was standing behind him. The sergeant reeled and fell with a moan of pain, barely conscious. Sir William ran to Bartholomew's aid and swung his sword across Lackley's chest. The warrior screamed and cursed as he fell against the wall with a thud, but lurched to his feet once again, intent on carrying out his task. Sir William stepped forward to swing again, but Lackley was faster this time. His fist sent the Crimson Knight staggering to the floor unconscious. Bartholomew wasted no time. He hurled a broken table leg at his former commander, who howled as it caught him in the forehead with a hollow thud like a hammer on a melon. Amazingly, the evil warrior still was able to recover. "I came here to kill you and I'll do it if I die trying!" cried Lackley as he ran forward and caught Bartholomew around the neck. The smaller man tried to shrug Lackley's hands off, but to no avail. Sir Gavin straddled the cot that had pinned him against the wall, but got caught in the bedsheets and could not immediately free himself. From his position on the floor, however, he could see that Bartholomew was losing. He was red in the face and his sword clattered to the floor as he tried to pry Lackley's vice-like hands from around his throat. The dark warrior gave a sudden yelp and stumbled forward, releasing his grip on Bartholomew. Behind him stood sergeant Watts with one of the broken table legs. The sergeant raised his improvised club to strike again, but Lackley batted it out of the way, pushing him to the ground. The enemy assassin reached to his boot and pulled a stiletto, advancing towards Bartholomew, who was still trying to catch his breath. Just as he was about to send the weapon into Bartholomew's torso, his eyes went wide and it clattered from his hand. Sergeant Watts stepped from behind Desmond Lackley holding a bloody long knife - the same one that the dark warrior had tried to kill him with. Lackley fell to the ground with a last gasp of air, his evil life ended forever. Sir Gavin and the others ran forward to Bartholomew's assistance, catching him and gently setting him down on the edge of one of the cots. The field officer and Major Wilkins went to Sir William's aid, slowly lifting him up from the floor. The Crimson Knight was unconscious, but not seriously harmed. "Sergeant Watts, can you stay with Bartholomew while I get him a glass of water?" asked Sir Gavin. No answer. "Sergeant?" Sir Gavin turned around to see sergeant Watts standing behind him, swaying and shaking. His glassy eyes wavered for a moment then rolled back in his head as he fell to the ground. This time he did not get up.

You know, Instagram really is not what its chocked up to be. Have you written any AWS articles?

Sir Gavin began to lead the scouting party back from the edge of Lothington valley, uncertain of what to do next. His inquiry to Bartholomew had yielded exactly what he didn't want to hear: a disastrous change of events. He turned to Bartholomew once again to make sure he heard everything correctly. "So you said the Dark Lord wanted you to pay extra attention to looking for caves in the forest just north of here?" he questioned. "Aye, that 'ee did," replied Bartholomew. "Said 'ee had 'eard o a way that an army could somehow move usin 'em. I din't quite understand what 'ee meant meself: all 'ee wanted me ta do was ta reeport back to 'im." Sir Gavin may not have been a general like Sir William, but he was knowledgeable enough about tactics to get an idea of what the Dark Lord had in mind. "Did he say anything else about the caves?" pressed Sir Gavin further. Bartholomew paused for a moment, deep in thought. He finally answered. "He din't say much 'bout em in me presence, but he seemed awful worked up about 'em. Th' Dark Lord 'as got an 'nnoying 'abit o dronin' on an on about th' same thing o'er an o'er. He got 'imself so excited 'bout them caves one time, 'ee called em the 'key t' the kingdom,' or somethin along them lines. That be all I remember. I woulda told ye sooner 'ad I known them caves was so important." "That's okay, Bartholomew. I understand," replied Sir Gavin. This was all he needed to hear to confirm his fears. Now he knew why the Dark Lord wanted access to the caves so badly. Sir Gavin called over Major Wilkins from the other side of the scouting party, and he pulled his horse to Sir Gavin's side. "Major," he said, "Do you know of anyone in the city that is knowledgeable about the caves in this country and where they lead?" The major thought for a moment. "Well, I know of one old-timer that's explored them inside out," he replied. "He lives on the outskirts of the city in a little cabin about four miles from the forest just north of here." Sir Gavin was glad to hear this news. "Then I think we should pay him a visit immediately. I want to find out all I can about those caves and as quickly as possible," he said. The scouting party had reached the city gates by now and begun riding back to the barracks. "Major, I want a force of three or four hundred to man the city walls just in case the enemy attacks here. The rest of the force will go with me once I get some information from our cave explorer," he said to Major Wilkins. "Aye, Sir," replied the major. "I can handle things while your gone." Sir Gavin briefly dismissed the men at the barracks, keeping five of them to accompany him, the field officer, and Bartholomew to the cave explorer's cabin. They left directly, exiting the city from the north gates. The landscape on this side of Lothington was more hilly, and the horses had more trouble navigating on the icy ground. The lack of trees in this part of the countryside resulted in the most brutal wind imaginable, making all the knights and soldiers glad they had worn their surcoats. "How much more o this do we 'ave t' get through t' get t' this fellow's cabin?!" yelled Bartholomew over the roaring wind. "The Major said his cabin was four miles from the outskirts of the city," returned Sir Gavin. He spurred his horse to gain some speed, not wanting to be caught in the dark on the return trip from the cave explorer's house. The small group gradually neared their destination and the rolling plains began to give way to light patches of forest. A chilling snow began to fall, blown nearly horizontal by the wind. Fortunately, the men were in sight of the cabin and were soon dismounting at its entrance. Sir Gavin knocked briskly on the door, stamping his feet to warm himself. The door slowly creaked open, and a short old man with a bald head and flowing white beard appeared. "Can I help you sirs?' he asked pleasantly. Sir Gavin stepped forward so he could be heard over the wind. "Aye, my name is Sir Gavin of Lothington and we have an inquiry to make of you," he answered. "Well, come in, Sir! Come in all of you!" All of the men followed his invitation willingly, for the cold, snowy wind was nearly unbearable. Once they were all inside, the old man introduced himself. "Me name's Gregory Taylor, though I'm called Saint Nicholas by most o' the folks around here." Sir Gavin chuckled. The nickname was certainly fitting. "Glad to meet you, Gregory. I have some important questions concerning the invaders and your past exploration of the caves in this area." "I'd be glad to help ye, young man! Trust me when I say I dislike our unwanted quests as much as you do. Now what can I help ye with?" "I'd like to know where these caves are located and where they lead." "Well, the bulk of 'em are just north o' here about three miles. Most are very long, and I've only managed to follow about half of 'em in me lifetime. I followed one almost straight to the cap'tal city one time and the other end of it came out not one 'undred yards from the city gates." Gregory laughed, unaware of the horrifying fact he had just revealed to his present company. His brows quickly wrinkled with worry when he saw the shocked faces of the others. "What be the matter now?" he asked with concern. Sir Gavin was unsure of whether to tell Gregory the situation or not but finally decided to do so. "We know that the Dark Lord had an interest in those caves, and now we know why. He wants to use them to transport his army underground to the main cities of the kingdom and take them by surprise, moving out from there. He took Lothington Castle to distract us from the main task of moving his entire force from Lothington valley to these caves. We know what his plan is now, but I hope we're not too late." Gregory looked shocked. "Why the dirty snakes!" he said firmly with a hint of contempt. "If I was ten years younger, I would get me old sword out again and fight 'em meself, but alas; me fightin' days be over, I fear." "Well, you've done more than your share to help us already," replied Sir Gavin. He turned to look out the cabin's single window to assess the weather. The snow had not increased and the wind appeared to be dying away as it often does throughout the night. "Gregory, I won't trouble you any more," said Sir Gavin to their host. "We need to get back to the city and make preparations to move first thing in the morning." "I understand," Gregory replied, "And I'm glad I could be o' service." With their task complete, the men bid their host adieu and remounted their horses to begin the trek back to Lothington. The late afternoon sun was beginning to give way to an early winter night. Sir Gavin lit a torch to throw some light on their path, allowing the horses to better navigate the icy, snowy earth. As they drew nearer to the city, the snow began to let up even more, finally stopping when they reached the city gates. Sir Gavin dismissed the five men he had enlisted to escort them before continuing on horseback with Bartholomew and the field officer towards the Lothington inn. "I guess we'll be moving the force in the morning?" inquired the field officer. "Aye, those are the orders I gave Major Wilkins. I told him to dispatch an envoy to meet the vanguard of our main force from the capital to tell them the situation, so we should have reinforcements late in the day," answered Sir Gavin. He hoped that the army could reach them as quickly as possible since they would likely go into combat sometime the next morning. The three men stopped at the barracks to leave their horses and invite Major Wilkins back to the inn with them. Sir Gavin hoped that he and the Crimson Knight could discuss tactics concerning the upcoming attack. "I'll be glad to join you," replied Major Wilkins when Sir Gavin asked him. In a short time, the four men were walking briskly towards the inn. Just like the previous night when Sir Gavin first entered the city with the others, the streets were nearly empty of people and the doors of every residence were boarded up tightly. Several patrols of soldiers weaved through the back alleys and side streets, checking for unlocked doors and lighting the torches that burned through the night. Even though the snowstorm had stopped, blizzard-like winds tore through the streets, swirling what snow was on the ground in clouds of speckled white. All of the men kept their faces to the grounds in order to shelter them from the weather as they neared the inn. Suddenly, all four of them were startled by a crash of breaking wood up ahead. Sir Gavin's eyes strained through the blizzard conditions at the inn ahead, just in time to see a huge man tear what remained of the inn door off of its hinges and stomp through the entrance with a long knife in his hand. Sir Gavin immediately drew his sword and bolted towards the inn, followed by the others. Sir William and Sergeant Watts were inside and they were in no condition to fight such a brute as that monster. Sir Gavin only hoped that he would be in time to save them.

Which is why I don't like matchmaking systems in any games. Just let players decide what battle they want to join.

Thanks for the complements! I'm glad to hear that this is entertaining. After all, my goal is to entertain. I thought that showing the other side of this conflict would give some more plot development, in addition to indicating what might happen in the upcoming chapters. I'll continue to watch my commas and hyphens, as well as pronouns.

Player @DieselPlatinum has been banned for one life of a tsetse fly. Reason: Not following proper ban configuration, adding additional information to his ban.

Now this - this is literature. Agree or disagree with the philosophy all you like, but there is no denying that this is a cut above the average short story in its style of writing.

I would love to see what you do relating to Dickens. He is one of my favorite authors!