Ashes and Blood

Monday morning, 18th of November, 1024, Northern England

A tall brooding figure stands before a window, gazing down upon the rabble that had gathered before his gates. On his shoulders rests a black cloak of wolf fur. on hisbhead lay a golden gilded crown inlaid with a ruby in the shape of a cross and sapphires placed along the center of the rim. The figure's right hand clenched fiercely, his mail digging into the flesh of his hand.

"The peasants rise against me," the man said with a growl, his voice dark and grim.

"Just another rabble to squash I take it, sire?" A soldier asked curiously, his right eyebrow rising ever so slightly.

"Not this one particularly. Do you know who they are led by, Commander?" The king asked, his voice rising slowly to anger at the thought.

"I do not, sire. Regrettably, of course," came the soldier's answer.

The aging king smiled. He appreciated those that spoke with honesty.

"It is my dear cousin, Reginald. You can see his standard in the hands of his bannermen. A pair of silver mares on a blue field under a bright full moon," came the king's answer. He smiled with a sigh.

The soldier approached the window and took a look, leaning over the sill ever so slightly to get a good look. Squinting his eyes, he finds exactly what his king was talking about. "I see it, mi'lord. In the center of his host. It would seem that he has rallied enough men to take this keep by force. In the distance, just beyond them lie heavy reinforced trebuchets. Their archers wield longbows."

The king laughed to himself. The boy learned, perhaps a little too much. The man brought a hand to his beard, stroking the dark grey strands as he found himself in deep though. Balls of flame left over the walls as men screamed in terror, some getting caught by the flaming clumps, their tunics and wool britches catching fire.

Soldiers flailed in terror as they cooked in their armor. Tall towers fell from their great heights, their domed roofs collapsing in on themselves becoming torches.

The king turned from the window, gazing into his commander's eyes. He smiled softly and beckoned him to come close. "You know the keep is lost as is the entire fortress,, correct?"

The commander didn't want to answer the question, holding onto his own false hope. The king smiled at the young man's hesitation. Finally giving in, the commander said, "I...I am unsure, sire. I want to say that it can be saved, but...in my heart, I know that it will fall."

With a smile, the king said, "then let us meet them in battle. If I am to die here in this fortress, I will make my end worthy of remembrance."

The commander smiled. "Yes."

"To the armory," ordered the king, his smile growing dark and cruel.

As the king left the room, the commander took one last look out the window and grimaced. Any hope of escape died the moment he saw the strength of his foe. With a grunt, he turned to follow his king.

As the commander turned, his king said, "come Thesolonius. We have work to do."