The sound of steel clashing against each other and screams of agony ring through the young boy's ears, the smell of smoke and blood invading his senses as he lay trapped under the wooden beam, blood pooling from the wound in his stomach as he tries to call for help. Two shadowy figures emerge from the smoke in front of him, a tall one with glistening red eyes piercing down at the young boy. The smoke seems to stick to them, obscuring the rest of their form. The second one is visibly shorter, with golden eyes that soften as they look upon the boy. They remain in the shadows, just out of sight, but the flames around them seem to lean towards them as if trying to connect with a host. "What a twist of cruel fate, bleeding out and trapped with no help on the way," the red eyes say, their voice gravely and almost scratching against the boy's ears. "And such a young age, they could have been someone great given time," the golden eyes add, their voice softer, almost balancing out the red eyes. They turn to look at each other, and both nod as if they were both coming to a conclusion for a conversation that never happened before turning away from the boy and leaving. The young boy thrashes against the beam, trying to free himself as they leave, trying to beg them to help, but only blood comes out of his mouth. A sickening crack sounds from above him as he looks up and sees a flaming beam fall towards his head. He tries to scream but can only make gurgling sounds as his mouth has filled with his own blood. He can only watch helplessly as the beam falls toward his head and...

Bwwwwwoooooooooorrrrrrrrrmmmmmm

A loud horn rings through the camp, waking a man from his dream. The sound of footsteps rushing outside of his tent is "raid," "intruders," and "it's the crown." These words make the man leap out of his sleeping bag quickly, putting his armor on and sheathing a dagger behind his back. Grasping his sword, he rushes out of his tent, taking in the scene in front of him. His companions blades crash against soldiers in heavy plate male armor; the sigil of the newly crowned empress is visible on their shields and armor. They fight in coordination, with one another striking down the man's companions with quick and deadly precision. A man carrying a Warhammer rushes, "Don't just stand there. Asher, fight back!" he shouts, not slowing down in the slightest. Asher's grip tightens around his sword as he charges toward one of the knights, parrying his blade and slashing down on the knight's wrist, forcing him to drop his blade, not losing momentum. Asher draws his blade back and thrusts it deep into the gap between the knight's helmet and chestplate, blood splattering onto Asher's face as he does. He moves on to the next knight, striking them down just as quickly. After striking down a few more, he finds himself face-to-face with a knight in black armor, wasting no time as Asher goes onto the offensive, charging towards him. The knight raises his sword high above his head, "kneeling," and booms his voice, echoing through the camp. Asher's blade stops inches from his chest. The sword begins to feel uneven in his hands before falling from his grasp and landing on the blood-soaked ground. His body begins to feel heavy, and his legs give way beneath him as he falls to his knees, unable to move. "Bring them before me," he yells to the other knights, immediately jumping to action and dragging Asher's companions to kneel. The black knight leans down, grabbing Asher's sword before walking back away and stabbing it into the dirt. The black knight turns, looking down at the men kneeling before him. "Those who wish to die in combat stand now." Asher tries to stand up, but his body resists the movement as if some invisible hand were holding him on his knees. "No one? Very well, executioner, take your place at the start of the line." A knight steps forward, a metal skull adorning both of his shoulders. In his hands, he grips a claymore as he stops at the start of the line where a young girl kneels. "ready!" The black knight yells. The knight sets one foot behind him and raises the claymore above his head. "Strike!" And with the simple word, the knight brings his blade down in a heavy swoop, cleaving through her neck and halfway down her chest. Before getting stuck, the knight raises his boot, pushing her back. As she falls, Asher can make out her internal organs, some of them spilling onto the ground. "You fucking bastards!" One of the men yells, "Next in line." The execution moves up and repeats the process. I have to constantly race through Asher's mind as the line gets shorter and shorter. I cannot just sit here and die. Another man falls just two men away from him. The last man before Asher looks up to the executioner has fear in his eyes as he watches the blade raise high above his head and is brought down with intense strength, almost cleaving the man in half. Blood sprays on Asher's face as his companion falls to the ground. "Next," the black knight calls as the executioner steps down towards Asher, his body beginning to feel light again. Asher falls his body back into control. He looks up at the executioner's determination in his eyes as a plan formulated in his mind is "ready." The executioner lifts his foot back, and in that instance, Asher's hand flies behind his back, ripping his dagger from its sheath and stabs it into the executioner's hip, bringing him down to Asher's level. He then rips the dagger out of his hip and pushes it through the eye slot of the knight's helmet. A scream of pain echoes through the helmet as Asher pushes himself off the ground, charging towards the black knight. He rips his sword out of the ground and swings the blade as the knight knocks it to the side with his hand. Asher quickly regains his ballance and goes to swing again as the knight grabs him by the throat, lifting him in the air, the sharp nails of the gauntlet digging into his neck before tossing him to the ground. The knight towers over Asher, leaning down to look Asher in the eye's "you're quite the fighter. I like that." He stands up straight, glancing at the others kneeling on the ground, all of them watching closely. "Kill the rest; this one comes with us." The rest of the knights march forward, drawing their swords, and cut down the rest of the men kneeling. The black knight raises his foot above Asher and says, "I'll be seeing you real soon." He slams his foot into Asher's head, and darkness engulfs him.

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