The wind fingered through his hair as Arthur spurred his stallion to a gallop, his eyes blinking from the speed. Iron hooves thundered down the cobblestone. “Out of the way!” he shouted, waved his arm, and swerved around those who were too slow to respond to his command. Some of his men launched themselves into heaps of dirt, but he did not care to stop for slugs. Opportunity was shining for him. Gabriel was waiting.

He found Sir Barmont where he had left him, at the Yonchin camp. Sir Charles and Afzal were there as well but only looking from the outskirts. They too were denied entry, it would seem.

“Sir Barmont,” Arthur called out as he brisked through the guards. This time they parted for him. He jerked on the reins and nodded slightly to the twin. “Miss Ako.”

The old knight lowered his head and met his eyes. “Master Arthur.”

“It appears the talks have gone well.” He glanced at Ako. She was full of smiles when he saw them. Not anymore. His cheek burned with remembering. Still, he gave her a warm grin. Now was not the time for such trivial matters.

“Aye. The Yojin clan has agreed to accompany us on our march.”

“Wonderful news. Have them and our forces ready within a half hour. Make the rounds at the barracks and wake the officers. I want every capable hand on the fields now. Ahorse and in three-line formation.”

The old knight raised a graying brow. “Has something arisen, my lord?”

His gaze glossed over the twin so subtly that his eyes did not move from Sir Barmont. “Yes, but we can discuss that once the troops are prepped on the field.”

“The knights will ask for a proper reason for disturbing their rest, most like. What shall I tell them?”

“That I command it. What other reason need there be?” Arthur snapped. What a foolish question. No doubt if he were his brother, the old fool wouldn’t dare question him.

“I meant no disrespect, my lord.” The old knight bowed, deeper this time. “A proper reason would keep their motivation, is all.”

“Then promise them money or whores. Whatever that will get them on the fields now, Sir Barmont.”

“As you will.” The old knight said in a low tired voice, then left in a hurry. Ako returned to her people without so much as a farewell.

Arthur made his way to the lookout, his head clouded with doubt. He looked beyond the steep hills and winding roads to Solaris. A shadowy crown atop the mountain caps. One fit for giants. It was where the Great Calamity ended; where Lord Gwyn fought alongside the High Lord Ludwig; where the first generation of his Order blossomed; where his brother awaits.

This time I will be the one to save you, brother. But for some reason he could not believe his own words. A tightness grew in his chest. It was his moment to prove himself. To show his people, his king, his peers what he was worth. Yet, he could not help but question himself. If my brother could not conquer what lies beyond those walls, what chance do I have?

“My lord.”

Arthur shook any hints of doubt from his face and turned to see the squire kneeling a few feet away. “Afzal. What is it?”

The squire rose and stood silent for a moment, his eyes darting around nowhere in particular. “My lord. Allow me to lead a troop in our march.”

“You? You do not hold the rank.”

“The others do not have the heart to lead anymore, my lord. Give me the vanguard. I’ll march the frontline!”

The squire’s eyes glimmered, burned with ambition. Not many knights would offer to lead after seeing what happened to the first scouts. It was hard to resist the intoxicating passion.

Arthur gave him a long hard study. “You have spirit, I’ll give you that. But you are not an official knight of the Order, Afzal.” When the squire’s face fell sullen, he smiled. “You will join the left flank as Sir Charles’ standard man. Use that spirit to hold our banner high and raise our troops to your heights.”

Afzal was beaming. He dropped to a knee and shouted with a full chest, “As you command it, my lord!” Then he was off.

Eager to a fault. Reminded him of Gabriel, if only a little. Perhaps that's what he was lacking.

Within the half-hour, the old knight had done as instructed. The field was packed with cavalry. Three columns of steel, men, and horses. Though the numbers were far worse than he would have liked. Only three hundred answered his sudden call to arms. A fifth of which were the Yonchins. He could hardly call that a force but it would have to do.

Arthur trotted down the calvary line. Behind him, Sir Barmont and Sir Charles followed with their standard snapping with the wind. The Rays of the Licht Order glistened gold under the sun. He rode up and down the three columns as many times as needed to brand their features into his memory, but all he saw were desperate stares. Three hundred colorless eyes.

They watched him pace back and forth, waiting for him to ignite their dying flames, Arthur knew. That’s what Gabriel would have done. Even the Fourth would be better suited to the task, but that coward was holed up somewhere in the fort if he were to guess. He should have expected nothing less.

Arthur brought his horse to the center. His gaze swept over his knights, cold and relentless. “You will not hear me promise you a safe return home. No doubt many of your friends, parents, lovers, and children await your homecoming. You will find no words of comfort from me. Though our path to Solaris is clear, what lies beyond those walls, we do not know. Enemies, no doubt. And many of you will die.”

Knights and Yonchins alike exchanged ghastly looks and shifted in their seats. Their faces paler than before.

“I know your bowels must be churning up something foul. Shit yourself and turn back if you like. Guarding the fort is praiseworthy enough. But know if you retreat here, you leave the fate of all you care for in the hands of another. While you cower in fear, you forfeit the hopes and dreams of those who entrusted them to you. Know when you turn your back, you deny the efforts of your fallen brethren, their hopes and the ones they burdened.”

“But it is those who march with me today that history will remember; You who stands on the frontlines to keep this hellish mist from reaching our home; You who refuses to let the hopes and dreams of humanity fade to obscurity, Even now, Lord Gabriel and the other Pillars are beyond those walls fighting on their behalf. So come with me, choose to fight, to live, to die!”

Arthur raised his blade to trumpeting horns. A ringing song of steel sang as three hundred swords slid from their sheaths and pointed to the sky. A thunderous roar came after. He wheeled his stallion around and kicked it into a gallop, smiling like a fool.

And a fool he was.

They were only a quarter of the way up the fields, past the grass that had been dyed with the blood of the first scouts when the wall boomed terrible reminders. Black rain was upon them. A wave of fear wiped through the calvary, deafening the sounds of thundering hooves.

His horse whickered and reared, but with a firm jerk, Arthur kept her steady. He glanced over his shoulder to gauge the legion. Frozen stiff with fear. Every last one of them. But retreat was not an option. Retreat meant no second chances; no one would answer another call to march. Forward was the only way.

“SHIELDS!” Arthur shouted his throat raw, so loud that it shook his knights free. “CHARGE! FIGHT!”

His legion screamed cries of horror, fear, pain, and everything in between, but the horses stormed forward all the same. With a clangor of steel, golden light domed each column. The first iron bolt pierced through the right side of the left flank’s wall and decimated the mid-guard. Bodies were squashed into mush under the iron barb. The ground trembled fiercely. Knights and horses flew through the air. Clouds of dirt, stone, and blood covered the fields.

The second bolt completely shattered the right flank. A lack of knights on that side, Arthur thought bitterly. Their line broke in an instant. Dimly, he heard the cries of dying men and women through the mist. Chaos ensued. Cavalrymen crawled on the floor, blood-soaked and gripping their missing limbs. A flood of riderless horses scrambled out from the erupting debris and sliced through his column.

That cut their shield power. “FASTER!” Arthur shouted to those left as the second round of fire boomed. He stabbed his heels deeper into his horse’s ribs. Whining, his stallion darted forward, just enough for the first bolt to whistle over him. The second ate the earth in his path. He yanked her left and dodged the uprooting mounds, dirt and dust slapping him in the face as he galloped through choppy earth. Only a handful of his knights were still behind him.

No time to break. The third round fired. Another tremor and explosion of soil and guts. The left flank ate the first blow, he guessed. He wasn’t too sure, but it wasn’t him. The second bolt hurled straight at him, slicing through the air so fast you could hear it whistle. No dodging this one.

“HOLD!” Arthur forced his steed to a skittering halt and raised his gauntleted hand to the sky. He called upon the Light with everything he had. Brother, give me your strength! Light pooled into his palm in golden currents, his hand an eye of a brilliant storm. Soon, a comet was in his grasp, bursting with more power than he had ever known. It almost seemed to be hissing at him. He let the comet fly with a whipping swing and it soared like one too. It clashed with the black bolt, blasting it into powder.

The black rain ceased after that and it grew very quiet.

Soon he was surrounded with cheers. The remaining knights in his column knelt before him. Others bowed if they could not. He looked down at them from his horse, dazed, then shifted his sights towards the fields. Patches of fire engulfed the grass and had made their way to the Hero’s Greenwood. Bodies sprinkled amongst the growing flames and smoke. The standard Afzal carried was burning from the pole up. Sir Barmont, Sir Charles, the twins, all nowhere to be seen.

Yet all Arthur could think was to look at his hands and wonder if they were truly his.