I
Arthada, the border with the Velesar. Two armies readied themselves for one final assault. Victory or defeat, there is nothing else, there is no middle ground. King Hirtan and King Reta, where at each other's throats for months, finally, it's time to decide the victor. King Reta and King Hirtan have the same number of men, 20, 000-strong. The commanders gave the signal; the army was divided into smaller groups. They waited, for the horn to blow. Their nerves were on edge, Finally, the horn blows, they charge. The battle is even, for now, both sides have severed heavy loses, if the battle continues, they will lose the numbers they have. King Hirtan, himself has decided that it's time to finish the battle.
“Your Grace, you must hurry!” the general shouted behind the king.
“I won't leave them!” the king turned to the general; half of his face was covered in dried blood.
“Your face…”
“It's nothing, just a flesh wound.”
“We need a counter-attack and fast.” the captain rushed to them.
“What's happening out there?!” the king was on edge.
“Nothing good, your grace…” the captain said.
“Continue!!!”
“The left flank won't hold for long.”
“That's not good.” The general said in a low voice.
“We need more men.”
“We don't have more men.”
“What about the Pathar Army?” the sergeant approached the king.
“It will take hours for them to come.”
“We don't have that much time.” the king dismissed the idea.
“The king is right.”
“We make a stand here.”
“Wait for them to come.”
“The Velesar's are light armored, I just don't get it.”
“We will see.”
The ground trembled as they marched. The light infantry was in front of the archers and cavalry. Fear could be seen on their faces. Their strategy was worth nothing now; they couldn't attack from the behind.
“They're near arrow range, Your Grace…”
“Loose!!!”
The boiled leather armor could do little to protect from the rain of arrows. One by one they were failing only to be replaced by another one from the row behind.
The archers moved forward; bows ready.
“Draw!”
“Loose!”
Olgierd and his group have broken through the front lines. Olgierd cuts, he stabs. The Velesar fall like leaves in front of his blade.
The king was ready for anything. Something was terribly wrong, he felt it in his bones. The Velesar moved forward, their faces were stern. What are they doing? How could they? Are they so bold? The king turned to his commander, silently he looked at them. In his heart he knew that they would survive. The only question is, how many. He didn't know how many would survive.
The commander gave the signal, the archers moved two rows forward. Everything was on them now; everything relied on them; everything would be over in a heartbeat.
“Loose!” he yells.
“Fire! Like your life is on line!” the field marshal Feri yells.
“Fire! Fire, at will!” they shouted as one.
The king holds his breath; the scale is on their side now. He only hoped that it would stay that way. His sword flashes. The soldiers eagerly await the king's command.
“Shield-wall!” the king commands.
The formation changed. The Velesar are only ten feet away. Silence. They charge head-on. Nobody looks at the consequences. There is no room for that; a true warrior knows that. They don't fear death. Their whole lives flash before their eyes. A death on the battlefield, to them, was a true death. Everything else was false. Everything else shamed the family name.
The Velesar are only five feet away. Their grip is steady, their movement precise. It's over in a moment. Piles of the dead are buried, as is tradition. The Girdians leave no one, not even their worst enemies.
A sign of relief could be seen on the commander's face. They survived this battle, but one battle doesn't make a war. For now, they will taste the sweet smell of victory.
“I still have a strange feeling.” the king said.
“What kind, Your Grace?” the field marshal asked.
“That this only the beginning.”
“Maybe, but we have won.”
“I find comfort in that.”
“It's time for a celebration.”
“You are right.”
“There is time for everything.”
“It's long march to the capital."
II
Aeritha, capital city of Girdian. People gathered on the main street to greet their King. The bells rang. The festival is about to start. The king entered first; followed by his generals. A victory-arc was constructed in their honor.
“Long live, the King!”
“Long live, the King!”
“Long live, the general!”
“Long live, the commander!”
The day was hot and humid. It looked like it, that every citizen was on the street to greet the King. The knight all them rode in a single line. Their heads were held high. There was no one in the world this day; except them and they know it. The people were dressed in bright, exotic colors. A stranger looked at them from the crowd, he was discussed. The knights looked more like a parade than the valiant heroes that saved them. The stranger turned and left.
“What's with that guy?” somebody asked from the crowd.
“I don't know.” said the other man.
“I know. Just look at the knights; they are a parade.” said the old man.
“True. Chivalry has fallen low.”
“I'm leaving.”
One of the knights saw them. He didn't mind them. They are only peasants; nothing more. They aren't worthy of his attention. The parade continued.
A woman looked at the young knight. Her face was simple, but pretty. He always liked those women. Those were the type that didn't a high opinion about themselves and their heads weren't in the clouds.
The parade shined like the inside of a cathedral. The knight were proud of their shinny armor, which only meant, that there was more work for the squires.
Olgierd was in front his squad. The fearless hunters, they call them. They are more than earned their name.
End of King's Play Part I and Part II
IIIThe professor was writing in his study; he didn't care what was happening out side. His notes were much important that some parade. They were scattered everywhere. He found a few of them that were important and started arraigning them in on a single piece of paper. He was doing his second edition of the Great Sieges; he always liked the leave notes behind his book. People liked to read them. The only thing that was bothering was which note to place first; he decided on the elven days of the week.Days in a week: Meversizin Returdin Tuerdus Wesard Frieldas Xerdes ZesturdNote: the names are used from the elven language; the tradition at that time was to use a lot of elven names. So, t
VThe professor stopped, read everything again, after that he decided to continue to write. Maybe, it's time to change the wrongs he made in the first edition.My background as a historian the Irith University is truly shown here, I think. I always liked sieges; ever since I was a small boy, I would always sit and listen to stories that the retired soldiers told. Recently, I started writing my book the Great Sieges. While I was gathering material for my book, I found out that I didn't anything about the Revendir battle, or as someone likes to call the Battle of Revendir. I only knew that the battle was fought sometime in the early years of the Gurtal Age; that was all I knew. In the royal court things have changed, I became the royal historian. My first thing on this new position was to find something about this battle. At that time I never knew that King Arthar gave reinforcement to the Wolf clan. I was so pleased. I showed my findin
VIThe throne room was empty that day, nobody entered, and nobody exits. Lord Iritain and Lord Gertan looked at the throne, an uncomfortable wooden chair. That chair was used as a throne for three generations. There must be secret to why it is used.“I still don't get it, why they use this chair?” Lord Iritain looked at the arm rests, they were ordinary arm rests. They was nothing strange about them.“It keeps them focused on the speaker.” Lord Gertan said behind him.Iritain turned. He greeted him with a discussed look on his face. Gertain was that type of a character that would do anything to save himself. On the other hand, Iritain admired him, for his never-ending struggle for power.“How?”“if the chair is comfortable one than the king would fall asleep, this way he's constantly focused on the speaker.”“You mean to say, that they are focused by
VIIIThe sorcerer was already asleep, when the king entered. The king stopped for a moment, looking deeply into the sorcerer's eyes, they were widely opened. The king made a silly face, waived his hand in front of the sorcerer, there was no reply. What else could he do? The sorcerer was asleep, no, he was sleeping like a log. The king took one feather from his hat, and started tickling the sorcerer.“Very funny, Your Grace.” the sorcerer said.“You're awake!” the king said.“Yes.”“I need your help.”“What kind of help? A spell or two? Something complex?”“Yes.”“Leave it to me.”“I want you to scare someone.”“Easy.”The sorcerer entered the circle, looked at his sides, and started speaking the magical words. A layer of black smoke appeared around the circle. The sorcerer continued.
XIritian entered the room, hoping to find Abigail. The room was empty, no, the whole house was empty. Everything that was important, she has taken with her.In the middle of the room there stood a table. It was strange for him to see that table there. On the table there stood a letter. He opened the letter and read what was written inside:My lord,I have talked to Lady Joanna. You must know that all is well and she is in love with the king. She waits the king's move. I hope that you are well. We are all, only pawns in the king's game. I bet, that you already know this. Watch yourself, there are people that will kill for you position in the king's court. You have played you part, I will now, play mine.I hope, that I will see you soon.Yours truly,AbigailIritian left the house with a smile, the first one in three years since his wife has left him for
XIIThe samurai walked down the path. Olgierd looked at him. That man was strange. His hair was strangely placed on the top of his head. He carried two swords, the long one was on his back while the normal one was around his waist. Both of the swords were made in the same pattern. The long was twice the size of the normal one. Olgierd betted that the samurai's second sword was lighter than his. The shape and the curve meant that the sword-man was extremely fast. He heard stories about them, unlike most people, Olgierd believed in stories.Three hooligans went on the opposite side of the road. They saw the samurai and immediately stated attacking him. The samurai pulled out his sword, he made a fast vertical attack. The closest hooligan fell on his knees. Blood soaked his red tunic that could only mean, that the cut was deep. He tried to get up. Blood gushed in streams. His lifeless body fell to the ground. The samurai lunged at them the r
XIVA lone wolf watched as they went their way. He could barely be seen in the thick bush. But, he was there. They know it. They didn't know how large he was. He was the only 'friend' that saw them leave for the sea. The wolf's expression change. His teeth were bare. Now, they knew that it was a large wolf. He waited. He stood there like a statue. There was no way, that they could defeat him. They were sure of it.“What will you do now?” the captain asked.“Don't know. I will think something.” Olgierd said.“You are going east, and you don't know what to do next?”“I know, what I'm doing next.”“What?” the captain steered the ship from the sharp stones. “That was close.”“I'm going to change my name.”“In, to what?”“I'll think of something.”Olgierd turned. He walked to the si
A few years later peace still continues, but not for everyone.REPAIRSAgilrwar lifted his head; his eyes shinned with a fiery red glow. His head turned to the side, he sniffed the air. There was a new smell in the air, a smell that he didn't smell, ever since the castle became his. His eyes turned black with the iris blue, as ice. His face remained the same, cold and distant. He sniffed again. The smell disappeared. His eyes looked at the columns of the main hall. A miserable pile of rubble, it has been his six months, since he gave the order to repair the roof and every defect the castle had. Six months passed, and what they did, repaired a few parts, nothing and nothing less, just a few parts. The parts survived for two months, and with the first rains, the holes opened again. He moved to the other side. A drop of rain fell on his head; he stood up, walked down the wet red carpet. His face looked at every corner. The more he looked, th