Chapter Two
The War
The kingdom of Unity has been at war with the surrounding nations for four hundred years over land rights. Unity has vast riches to the north in gold mines that the Men of Krondon and the mighty men or Turlanon want to subjugate.
King Santos of Unity has tried the political route to resolving the issues, and when this fails, the king set up a stronghold to the north around the gold hills called the Golden stronghold of Parthanon. This is the most secure area in the world, and the men of the Dark Earth are constantly trying to crack the secure 40-foot high concrete walls, which surround the area, with no success.
The king has caught wind of a plan, which on the early morning of this day the warriors of Krondon are going to attack through the southern village of Stronglon. King Santos sent all forces to the area. The king has always relied on a young man by the name of Markotheon to aid him in moving the troops in a swift manner. Markotheon has even saved the king's life on more than one occasion. Because of Markotheon’s age, the king has not yet made him a general. However, that is all about to change.
Five hundred archers line the hills above "Hounds Tooth" valley that overlooks the grassy fields below, while the king sits upon his white steed drawing his steel broadsword, with the gentle wind swaying the trees; the sun begins to rise in the east.
Behind the trees awaiting the king’s command, fifty knights on the east and fifty more on the west with lowered lances, sit upon their steeds with battle armor adorned symbols from the kingdom of Unity.
The steady relentless footfall of thousands of soldiers marching down the road in perfect unison heavily armored foot soldiers, as the armor shines with each footfall and each arm swing. Murmurs heard and talk through the ranks as the captains maintain order to the soldiers. Upon the north hill in front of the archers, stand three hundred and seventy five pike men at attention facing south looking four hundred yards into the shadows of the fields below toward the soldiers of Krondon who are assembling their troops to begin their attack on the village of Anthon.
It seems that King Santos has surprised them on this early morning.
Behind the king, through the trees, stands a sixty-foot high gate with solid walls that stretch one hundred yards to the east and one hundred yards to the west attaching into the hills of the mountain range. Just beyond this gate in an encampment just before the village of Anthon stand ready ten thousand soldiers from the kingdom of Unity who are preparing for war. They are swordsmen and soldiers who carry two twenty four inch steel broadswords on armored hips. Some of these battle-armored men carry axes and lances to stop any forward progress that enemy have in mind.
Riding among the troops sitting upon a steed is a young battle hardened soldier named Markotheon who has risen up quickly and found favor from the king for his valor in many battles before. His horse, trotting before a group of soldiers warming themselves before a crisp crackling fire in the early morning; the breeze picking up “come off that horse,” a gruff voice of one of the soldiers below. “Come join us young sapling whilst we warm ourselves before we march off to the slaughter.” The other men laughing, The horse nears the group huddled around the fire, Markotheon reigns his horse in to stop short of the group and dismounts, swinging his leg over holding his hip to steady his sword; his warhorse stamping its front legs impatiently shaking its head while the armor rattles.
Markotheon walks toward the soldiers, “The king will send word swiftly when it is time and you better be ready,” warming his hands by the fire.
The encampment covers the miles of fields spread out before the village of Stronglon just behind the south gate, the wagons and warhorses tearing up the green dew covered fields as the soldiers devour their morning nourishment.
Jarred exits his makeshift quarters and wonders what this day will have in store while he notices the sun climbing in the east.
Running up to greet Jarred while bowing in front is a young scout clothed in leather, with word, “The Krondon have been readying their forces for three days and have about seven thousand troops spread throughout the valley, we have word that more forces could be coming in to aid them from the east, I have sent scouts that way.”
Jarred stretches his limbs and walks toward a fresh lit fire near his camp and tells the scout to relay the news to the king; Jarred then sits down to warm his hands and proceeds to eat some fresh killed deer.
The King orders his archers to stand down as he lowers his sword, no movement yet from down below it has now become a waiting game.
Running up to meet the king, the scout kneels down; relaying the same information the scout had told Jarred earlier; King Santos calls over Captain Montejano, informing the captain to keep an eye on the enemy below. The king then sheaths his sword and spurs his steed back toward the south gate, the warhorse tuning on its two hind legs galloping off towards the south gate.
With the kings steed approaching the south gate four guardsmen start yelling “The king approaches, open the gate, The king approaches open the gate”, as movement begins the huge gate slowly begins to open, the metal frame slowly opens just in time for the kings swift horse to squeeze through the gate, never missing stride.
“You’re a little young to be telling us what to do don’t you think?” Grunted the older soldier smiling showing several missing teeth.
Adjusting his stance and gesturing toward his right side,
“My daggers are sharp enough to slit your throat old man, no matter what my age.” Sneers Markotheon.
The others roar with laughter pushing the older soldier,
“Yes, Jake your surly bested by words this day”
“Come on Marko can’t you take a joke,” reaching his arm out to shove the young soldier, side stepping in response with the quickness of a leopard Markotheon avoids the shove coming face to face with the other; a dagger to the throat.
“Don’t you ever try to strike me again or it shall be the last move you make upon this earth.
Just then, thunderous hooves of a horse come from behind.
“The King approaches, the king comes.” Markotheon spins around with the rest to see the king upon his white horse; armor adorned of the house of Unity. The soldiers drop to their knees with heads bowed. “Markotheon, mount your steed and follow me,” bellows the king.
Markotheon stands, mounting his horse staring at the men around the fire; spitting in the face of Jake while spurring his trusty steed to follow the kings lead.
The king and Markotheon stop dismounting their horses near some trees; they tie their horses and walk.
“Markotheon,” begins the king, “You have been fighting by my side since you could swing a sword and I know your honor to me. I am now making you a general so that you may ride into battle as my next in line,” with these words, the king pins a golden crescent of the House of Unity upon Markotheon’s shoulder. “This will let all who see you know your status. Now let us linger no more, but ride into battle once again, side-by-side.
Mounting their steeds, they gallop off toward the others.
Horns sound and men scream their death cries as soldiers and knights charge downhill toward their foe.Archers aim and let loose their shafts with steel razor sharp heads in an arch over the charging soldiers hitting their marks piercing
