01-21-2018, 01:50 AM
“Halt!” the King of Knights bellowed, her voice booming across the field, the Camlann hill visible in the distance. Atop it, Artoria could already make out several banners, likely a few units, the hill concealing whatever remained behind it. She knew not if her forces would be enough for this battle. But it was all she had. “Kay, rea--....” her command faltered in her throat.
Kay, like many others of the round table, had abandoned their cause short few days ago. Steeling her resolve, her knuckles grew white as her grip over Rhongomyniad tightened. The King of Knights sat atop her steed, her cape flowing in the wind along with its pelt-lined collar and the fur of her lion-head shaped helmet. Honestly, the knight had never had full faith in anyone except Kay, when it came to their rearguard. But the time for pickiness had long passed.
“Bedivere! Take the rearguard! Gawain! Handle the main body!” the knight called out commands to her subordinates and whatever few hundreds of knights her forces had left. Their conquest to chase Lancelot had depleted most of her forces, and now that Camelot had been conquered by Mordred and her associates, there was little left for her to do, but to try and retake the capital with what little of her forces still remained.
Her boot came down hard to the side of Hengroen as the steed kicked forward, flying through the ranks of soldiers. From their faces she saw but one thing. A faltering hope. A lack of faith that they would truly come out victorious and alive from this battle.
That Camelot would survive another day.
Hengroen skidded to a halt on the grassy plain as Artoria pulled on the reins. Turning the stallion to face her army, she called out, her voice booming over what little loyal soldiers she had left.
Men! Today, we face insurmountable odds! She knew their odds were slim, a blind beggar could see such. There was no use lying.
Today, we face our own kin, those who’ve turned their back on us!
Today, we raise our swords and spears against those whom we trusted our lives with yesterday! Artoria didn’t like this, yet her voice carried without faltering. For if their King lost hope, the army would be doomed.
It is not a good day, nay!
But if we stand down, it would be the end of our lives!
Aye!
Our homes!
Aye!
Our loved ones!
Aye!
Today, we fight to protect the future of Camelot!
Aye!
So march with me, knights of Camelot to protect your homes, your loved ones! And live to see tomorrow!
Aye!
For Camelot!
AYE!
As was customary, the front row lifted their blades into the air. Artoria jabbed Hengroen into a calm canter, riding to the edge of their frontline, before the King rode along it. As the King rode, the tip of her spear touched every blade and spear alike, granting the warriors of the frontlines the blessing of their King.
Eventually, the King of Knights returned to the frontlines of her army, bellowing out one final order.
CHARGE!
Kay, like many others of the round table, had abandoned their cause short few days ago. Steeling her resolve, her knuckles grew white as her grip over Rhongomyniad tightened. The King of Knights sat atop her steed, her cape flowing in the wind along with its pelt-lined collar and the fur of her lion-head shaped helmet. Honestly, the knight had never had full faith in anyone except Kay, when it came to their rearguard. But the time for pickiness had long passed.
“Bedivere! Take the rearguard! Gawain! Handle the main body!” the knight called out commands to her subordinates and whatever few hundreds of knights her forces had left. Their conquest to chase Lancelot had depleted most of her forces, and now that Camelot had been conquered by Mordred and her associates, there was little left for her to do, but to try and retake the capital with what little of her forces still remained.
Her boot came down hard to the side of Hengroen as the steed kicked forward, flying through the ranks of soldiers. From their faces she saw but one thing. A faltering hope. A lack of faith that they would truly come out victorious and alive from this battle.
That Camelot would survive another day.
Hengroen skidded to a halt on the grassy plain as Artoria pulled on the reins. Turning the stallion to face her army, she called out, her voice booming over what little loyal soldiers she had left.
Men! Today, we face insurmountable odds! She knew their odds were slim, a blind beggar could see such. There was no use lying.
Today, we face our own kin, those who’ve turned their back on us!
Today, we raise our swords and spears against those whom we trusted our lives with yesterday! Artoria didn’t like this, yet her voice carried without faltering. For if their King lost hope, the army would be doomed.
It is not a good day, nay!
But if we stand down, it would be the end of our lives!
Aye!
Our homes!
Aye!
Our loved ones!
Aye!
Today, we fight to protect the future of Camelot!
Aye!
So march with me, knights of Camelot to protect your homes, your loved ones! And live to see tomorrow!
Aye!
For Camelot!
AYE!
As was customary, the front row lifted their blades into the air. Artoria jabbed Hengroen into a calm canter, riding to the edge of their frontline, before the King rode along it. As the King rode, the tip of her spear touched every blade and spear alike, granting the warriors of the frontlines the blessing of their King.
Eventually, the King of Knights returned to the frontlines of her army, bellowing out one final order.
CHARGE!
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