Morgan Rice - A Rite of Swords

Bronson.

Bronson rode out front, before the thousands of McCloud soldiers, and charged with all his might, right for the Empire. They came like a thunderstorm, using their downhill momentum to create a wave of destruction.

They impacted with a clash as loud as thunder.

In moments, they began to cut a path right through the terrified and confused Empire forces. In a panic, many Empire began to turn and flee, trampling each other.

Erec and Kendrick took advantage of the moment, redoubling their efforts, and began to gain new momentum. Empire soldiers fell in every direction, as they pushed them back further and further.

Soon, Empire men were turning and running, and the MacGils pushed them back, all the way out of the valley.

Finally, with a great cheer, Erec’s and Kendrick’s men met up with Bronson’s at the valley’s end. The valley now belonged to them. They had won.

Kendrick came over to Bronson, who stood there breathing heavily, covered in blood, grinning.

“I told you I am a MacGil,” Bronson said.

Kendrick and Erec shook their heads.

“We were wrong about you,” Kendrick said.

“You have saved our forces here on this day,” Erec said.

Bronson’s grin widened.

“The day is not done yet,” he replied, “and I don’t know about you, but I don’t plan on stopping until we drive the Empire all the way back to the sea.”

Godfrey rode with his men, forking down to the side of the valley, away from the main battle, Akorth and Fulton by his side and several thousand men behind them. Godfrey kept in his sights the huge group of Empire soldiers before them as he galloped straight ahead fearlessly. The soldiers before them outnumbered them, at least five to one, a massive Empire division waiting to face them.

“My Lord!”

Godfrey’s general caught up behind, riding fast, terror in his voice.

“Where are you leading us?! We are outnumbered and ride to instant death. Your bravery borders on recklessness! We must turn around, go back and join the others. Surely, they do not expect us to meet so many men here. Your plan, whatever it was, has gone awry. We ride to our deaths. We must turn back! I am all for chivalry, but this is suicide!”

But Godfrey only smiled wider as he rode, never slowing.

“Funny, I am all for chivalry myself,” Godfrey said, “yet, I prefer a different sort of chivalry.”

“My lord, I do not understand!” his general persisted. “Are you such a reckless leader that you would lead all these men to their deaths?”

“Sometimes leaders need to be reckless, don’t they?” Godfrey asked with a smile. He then turned, kicked his horse and rode even faster.

Godfrey rode and rode, praying and hoping his plan worked out. Of course, his general was right; they were vastly outnumbered. There were far more men facing them than Kendrick had ever dreamed. It was a massive division of Empire men. And in conventional battle, they would all certainly die.

But Godfrey, for the first time in his life, was unafraid. He knew that he could outwit the sword, and he was relying on his wit to save this day. This would be the supreme test of it.

As they neared, hardly fifty yards away, Godfrey raised a hand and slowed to a walk. Akorth and Fulton blew their horns and waved the banner meant for all to stop.

Behind them, Godfrey’s thousands of men came to a halt, a mere thirty yards away from the Empire men, who stood there frozen, lined up in perfect ranks, silent.

“Why did we stop, my lord?” his general asked, his voice shaking in fear.

But Godfrey ignored him.

Godfrey dismounted, his armor clanging, and Akorth and Fulton dismounted beside him. The three of them, armor and spurs clanging, walked across the gap between them, each leading their horses by the reins, and the Empire soldiers, who also sat there, on horseback, unmoving.

The Empire general, out front, dismounted, along with two other warriors, and walked out to meet them. They met in the middle, in a tense silence.

Godfrey, Akorth and Fulton turned to their horses and unstrapped dozens of huge bags from the harnesses. They dropped them down at the Empire commander’s feet where they landed with a metallic clang that any soldier anywhere in the world would recognize.

It was the clang of gold.

The Empire general reached down, hoisted a bag, pried it open, and reached in and held up a gold coin. He examined it, and finally he nodded, satisfied.

“Our men are yours,” he said.

A huge cheer came up among the Empire men.

Realizing what had happened, a cheer arose among Godfrey’s men.

Godfrey’s general came up beside them, staring down at the huge mound of gleaming gold, his mouth open in shock.

Godfrey smiled over at him.

“As you get to know me,” Godfrey said with a smile, laying a palm on his shoulder, “you’ll discover there are many ways to win a battle.”

Romulus strutted down the marble corridor of the capitol building, making his way toward the vast doors to the Grand Council’s chamber. His footsteps echoed as he marched alone, passing row after row of decorated Empire soldiers, who stood silently at attention. The Grand Council had summoned him this time, he knew, to depose him, to strip him of all title and rank, to question him about his activities, and to try him for treason. He had spies everywhere, and he already knew what each and every one of them would say. This was their moment to imprison him once and for all and seal Andronicus’ power.

Romulus had other plans. Now that he had the velvet cloak in hand, he would soon be departing from the Empire, crossing the great sea, entering the Ring, destroying the Shield, and deposing Andronicus for good. But before he embarked on his final quest to make himself the greatest ruler of the Empire, he had one last matter left to attend. The Council. A perpetual thorn in his side. He would have come on his own to seek them out, to tie up loose ends—but they had summoned him first. He had his own matters he wished to discuss. And he did not think they would be very pleased.

Romulus marched through the open doors, several soldiers yanking them open deferentially and bowing their heads as they stepped out of his way. Romulus marched right into the chamber.

Staring back at him were the two dozen dissatisfied faces of the councilmen, representing all provinces of the Empire, looking up at him with distaste and scorn.

The door was slammed behind him.

“You can stand where you are, because you won’t be here long,” one of them said, as he barely stepped into the room.

Romulus froze, staring back. He urged himself to restraint.

“Word has reached us that you shut off reinforcements for the great Andronicus. We are not interested in your explanation. In the name of the Grand Council of the Empire, you are hereby tried and sentenced for treason. You will be imprisoned and executed on the morrow. You will hang on the highest tree, for all would-be traitors to see.”

Romulus breathed deep, expecting as much.

He then smiled wide, and took a step forward in defiance.

“I am glad to hear that you have plans for me,” Romulus said. “Because I have plans for you as well.”

“We have no interest in your plans,” said another councilman. “You are only lucky that the Great Andronicus himself is not here to torture you slowly. We will have mercy and execute you quickly.”

“Guards, arrest him!” another councilman called out.

He stood there, waiting, and nothing happened. The old men looked baffled.

And Romulus’ smile widened.

“GUARDS!” they screamed.

Romulus grinned wider, and took another step forward.