The heavy doors to Draven's Keep opened slowly as Sir Kaelen mounted his steed. The horse was unnerved and pawed at the frosty ground, fully aware of what Kaelen himself was cognizant of - this was a journey from which he wouldn't come back. Sir Kaelen tightened down his armour, feeling cold steel upon his skin and pulling his cape around his shoulders. Above, the sky was grey and gloomy with the threat of precipitation or blood, possibly even both.
He did not look back.
As he rode down the long and unforgiving road toward Westreach Castle (the very center of his kingdom), each hoof clap counted down to the point where he would leave home and enter battle (experienced in this way). He noticed some villager as he passed who stood afar and quietly watched him go by with an anxious look on their faces and a longing in their hearts to ask him a question that no knight would be able to answer.
By the time the towers of Westreach rose before him, banners already flew high—black and silver, snapping violently in the wind.
"Still riding like death himself, I see."
Kaelen turned to find a familiar face approaching through the courtyard.
Sir Rowan Blackmere.
Rowan had a sharp mind'dominative and messy brown hair.
By evening, the rmy gathered outside the castle walls.
Queen was there to present the blood offering of a little girl to Drakharis (the child eater devil).
The queen unsheathed her sword, slashed the little girl troat open, and laid the child's served head at the feet of the devil.
Then the army moved at dawn.
they crossed rivers and plains, marching toward the border of blackmere.The sky grew dark with clouds.
Then they saw them.
Black banners. Dark armor. Endless rows of soldiers.
Horns sounded. Shouts rose. The ground shook as both army charged.
The sounds of the war were no longer audible.
What happened to the fighting sounds?
The air was thick with smoke from the bodies that died, the smoke drifting low in the air like spirits escaping their dead bodies. Kaelen wiped his bloody sword off onto his cloak and turned away from Rowan.
"We defeated them," Rowan quietly stated. "It was too easy."
Kaelen squinted at him.
Then he saw it — the eastern door to Westreach was open.
The east was not broken or destroyed; the east had been opened from within.
As if to confirm Kaelen's concern, a horn was blown/ As if further confirming Kaelen's suspicion, there came new warriors — mounted men in armor were charging straight toward their surface enemy. They were wearing the same insignia as the Westreach warriors of silver, but their weapons were turned facing each other.
A soldier screamed.
A commander was cut down by one of his commander trained for several years.
"Betrayers!" one of the Westreach troops exclaimed.
The sound of Kaelen's heart pounded in his ears.
There had not only been an invasion; this invasion had been planned. The figure that emerged from the castle balcony was tall in stature, deliberate in movement.
Lord Cedric Vale - The most trusted advisor to the King when it comes to war. The man who drew up everything to defend them. The man who told them the eastern ridge was secure. "No..." Rowan muttered to himself. Cedric held up a hand. More gates opened. Waves of the enemy came flooding in through the inside passage, all guided in and protected, all welcomed. Something colder than fear shot through Kaelen. Betrayed. Cedric's voice rang out in the courtyard. "Westreach will fall tonight! Kneel before me and maybe you will be able to serve your new king!" The serpent banner was raised next to him.
Kaelen didn't hesitate.He charged.Rowan followed.
Steel collided again, but this time it was worse — because now he knew the faces beneath the helmets. Men he had eaten beside. Trained beside.