Prologue
Incoming!" The general shouted.
They raised their shields as a hailstorm of fire arrows came showering down upon them. The hot oil that splattered off the ricocheted arrows set some of the mud around them ablaze. Some kneeled, some fell, some remained.
"Steady men!"
What seemed like forever went away as if it had never been. It was still…for the moment.
"Form the hold, Arthur!" The general commanded guardedly.
"Yes sire?" Arthur asked with a salute to his general.
"Lad, should terror befall this night, the queen has pardoned the use of the sword granted by the order," The general spoke somberly. Just hearing the sword referenced instilled a fear worse than death on the battlefield, stoking a serene intensity in the knight's mood.
"For majesty, for kingdom, for honor," Arthur recited the code heavily with a bow. He understood. This may be their last moments together.
"Kaldron I-"
"I'm not going anywhere," Kaldron interjected. With a nod, Arthur headed back to his position.
The hold formation (aka primera forma) was a replica mini model of the orders first meeting place. The round table. A uniform circle with supported wall units mounted with spears for enemy rushes, and roof shielders for arrows and javelin tactics.
"We await your command sir," Galvin, the troops captain in command, requested with anticipation.
"Yes then, shall we?" Turning back to the front the general called candidly,
"Though we are few we withhold. Glory to us that seek the Otherworld in the spoils of war. For today my brave men we fight with the pride of the brother that would lay down their life beside you. Now let us grasp our victory."
"For land, for queen, for victory!" The army chanted heartily. They advanced. They fought. The battle ended with the sword.
