The footmen were the first to advance. They carried the white flag of their liege across the barren plain. They were met in the middle of the field by a brigade of the enemies dark-clad legions. They eyed each other warrily while the rest of the army moved in position.
A handful of knights, the bravest horsemen called from their homes, left their position at the back of the line and advanced to within a range of their friendly footmen who were being surrounded by more legions of black clad soldiers.
Unwilling to relinquish the field, the white king ordered his personal men at arms, to hold the line. His closest advisor, a nobleman of brave heart and great repute, took the field by the storm. He advanced quickly, unmolested by the dark legions. He eyed the enemy king, who fearing the Duke’s great spirit, ordered his knights to his side.
Seeing great advantage, the hoary king of the white flag, advanced his own knights beyong the center of the field. The enemy king, a notorious coward, pulled his Queen’s own men to defend his position.
As of yet no bloodshed had been spilt. It was all maneuvering and posturing. The true battle had yet to begin. This ended in an instant. The glorious footmen, bearers of the flag, engaged a dark legion, flanking them easily and taking the advantage.
The enemy responded immediately. He sent his Queen’s guards to shore up the line. The footmen responded valiantly. They matched the Queen’s men sword to sword, but they fell under the onslaunt. The Duke, his own flank now removed, was put in peril.
As an old and heroic man, the Duke knew his duty. Facing certain death he proceeded forward, well beyond where the line could protect him. He engaged the King’s knights, annihilating them to a man. As a bold, a triumphant hero his pointed his sword at the dark king and threatened him to his face.
It was a glorious moment, but it was his last. The Dark Queen’s brother, an able general of the crusades, furfilled his kingly obligations and smote the Duke. It was a terrible loss, but a glorious end for the grand commander.
The White King survayed the field. His center was in disarray. He order more footman to advance to cover his knights, stranded beyond his line. The Dark King sought to interfere with the preparation and moved his Queen’s men forward, but they were chased off by a division of crusader swordsmen.
Determined to be a menice, the Queen ordered his men to take the center of the field. Her pennat waved threateningly over the field. The White King wisely brought his siege engines into position, should it be necessary to remove her from the field by force. A second unit of knights, was moved onto the field as well, to threaten the Queen. Finally she was moved to retreat, but not before slaying another band of valiant footmen.
With a great yell the majority of the army clashed. There was smoke and fire. Arrows were traded and darkened the sky. Footmen on both sides died in their boots, still clutching their swords. The Dark King’s Bishop, a notorious butcher was forced to cover his king.
In an instant the Knights responded. Furious at the death of the Duke, they crossed the field and slew the queen. Unsatiated they captured the Dark Tower, a old fortification built in the days of Barbarians to hold the flank. It was a terrible loss for the Dark King and his men feared their demise. The Queen’s men killed the Bishop Butcher, a unit of footmen crossed the field, blood was spilt across the field.
When the smoke cleared the knights, the valiant knights who first carried forward, were dead. Slain of a pusillanimous unit of archers.
The Knights were avanged by the mighty siege engines. They threw their stones forward. Crushing the enemy archers and a units of knights as well. The Dark King’s army was in nearly complete disarray. His footmen abandoned him. His Knights and Noblemen were slain in quick order. His remaining loyal soldiers, crossed the field in a futile attempt to break through, but they were repeased. The might of the White Banner overcompassed the field. The Dark Knight, with a final brave gesture, sent his siege engines to bombard the oncoming footmen. They were destroyed and the King surrounded.
He stood amongst the corpses of his army, the dead horses, the broken engines, the crumbled walls. His own Queen lay on the field, dead. An honorless and cowardly man the Dark King refused to die with bravery. He called off the last stand, waved off any thought of resistance. He offered his sword and was captured, bound to live his life a testament to dishonor and weakness.
