It was futile, but the gate had to hold long enough for a message to reach the inner fortress. The captain had despatched the youngest of his lads to run and inform the current watch guard, before drawing his sword and going to meet his destiny.
Six feet tall, in glistening armour decorated with many awards for bravery and swordsmanship, he stood at the head of his troop, his father's blade held two handed. With the sword before him and his men at his back, he would sell his life dearly.
The riders moved through the gate ten seconds later.
The bodies of the captain and his men gurgled as the hooves trampled over them. For all the blood spilt from their bodies, they were still alive...
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