Liam pinched himself, hoping to wake up from the nightmare he was having.

He recalled the indescribable dread he experienced a few hours prior as he gazed into the undisturbed horizon, wishing now that he could live in that moment forever rather than accept the utter hopelessness that overwhelmed him in the present.

Liam stood upon the weakest wall of his city, facing the absent Palisade. To his sides, he could see his fellow soldiers, men he had seen face death with steel resolve, men who were prepared to die for the honor of their people only a day ago; their faces were twisted in utter despair.

All had their gazes fixated on the land beyond the wall, staring in abject horror towards the approaching army. It was an enormous force filling their entire field of vision. It was something for which the city was not even remotely prepared.

The united march of the unidentified army thundered across the flatlands, but it did not overpower the whimpers and muttering of his fellow men.

“W-what are they?”

“Is that something we can even win against?”

The chattering of teeth might as well have overpowered the rolling march of the approaching army.

He had to do something to calm his men down. He had to. They may have been sitting ducks proportionally to their enemy, but they didn’t know that. What if they truly had a chance, but lost it by assuming the worst? But was it worth it? Could he even calm them alone?

Liam began to overwhelm himself with his fears, imagining himself drowning in darkness, only for a ray of light to reveal itself to him; “I am a knight! I cannot abandon my people!”

Liam grasped firmly onto his purpose in life and climbed out of the darkness.

No matter how gloomy things looked, he had to fulfill his duty. He had to be willing to do whatever it took to protect the peaceful lives of the common folk. This is what it meant to him to be a knight.

“Fellow soldiers! I too see the immeasurable force before us and quiver in fear, but I plead to you, do not despair! Do not underestimate yourselves!” Liam shouted across the parapet, a few soldiers seeming to have some of their worry eased.

“This force is only immeasurable because we lack the intelligence to measure it. Assuming the worst provides us no benefit but to be prepared for our death! We can only assume that our enemy is capable, but we know that we are capable! We are the knights of Gevilia! We will not cower! Stand proud to defend your family!”

Liam, the true knight, pushed his dread aside and grinned as he watched the light return to the eyes of his fellowship.

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned. It was the commander. “Well said, Liam.” He looked around as the others noticed the commander’s presence and gasped.

While the commander was in charge of them, regular soldiers usually never even saw the commander outside of the speeches he often gave at assemblies. Even stranger, it was extremely rare for a commander to leave the strategy table during a high-stakes conflict such as the upcoming battle.

The knights stared expectantly toward their superior officer, curious to see why he was here.

“What Liam here says is absolutely right, men! Never despair! More importantly, I’ll be treating every man who makes it out of this fight alive to a full glass of ale!” The commander shouted across the crowd, a smug grin forming as he gave them some real incentive.

Naturally, the air was filled with vigorous cheers and applause. Suddenly, the commander’s expression became grave.

“Silence, men! The enemies have halted their march!”

Everyone turned their attention toward the absent palisade and gazed as the front line planted their massive shields in front of them.

Suddenly, a voice bearing a strange accent boomed across the field.

“You face the army of the New Alphian Empire! If you humans have any honor, may your leader or representative present himself!”

The commander scoffed.

“Amplification magic, I see. Rudolph, please apply some acoustic amplification.”

The wizard trailing the commander did as instructed, and the man strode to the front of the parapet to announce his presence.

“The man you’re looking for is I, Commander of this city! What business do you have with us, noble warriors of Alphia?”

His voice echoed across the landscape. The soldiers all across the wall watched with anxiety and admiration to see what happened next. The eyes of all present were fixated on the Commander.

“Business is no way to put it! Allow me to demonstrate our ‘business’, commander!” Assorted snickering could be heard throughout the enemy army.

And in the next moment, time froze.

Thump.

Every man who could see at all watched as their beloved commander collapsed to the floor on the spot.

He had been killed in an instant.

Somehow, his head was severed from his neck.

As the crowd’s expressions began to distort into sheer terror, as screams began to consume the parapet, a very inappropriate sound could be heard in the distance.

It was the sound of an entire army laughing hysterically.

Every individual in the opposing army had begun laughing as if on cue, like they had just heard the funniest joke of their lives.

“Do you understand our business now, humans?” The unknown speaker sneered at them. “Loose!”

On his cue, a hail of arrows were fired from the enemy lines. It was almost majestic, in a way. Time nearly screeched to a halt as Liam watched the flawless arc of the arrows rising into the sky. Once they reached their apex, Liam snapped back to his senses.

“Take cover!” He shouted to nobody in particular, hectically reaching for his shield and curling up beneath it.

Some of the soldiers around him were able to process his warning in time, frantically scrambling underneath their shields, holding weapons over their heads, or hiding behind someone frozen-dumbstruck beside them.

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And then, like hail, the arrows came down. The men who were before standing as still as statues began falling like ragdolls.

There was a brief moment of complete silence afterwards, but to all present, it lasted an eternity. Everyone simply stared in abject horror as they processed the unthinkably powerful show of military force that they just witnessed.

Then, off in the distance- “Loose!”

Suddenly, Liam and everyone else snapped back to reality.

They were so bewildered that they failed to notice the enemy longbowmen had already reloaded and drawn back their arrows. As soon as this terrible reality finally registered in everyone’s minds, all hope was lost.

They had no chance of negotiation, no proper fortifications, and an enemy capable of shooting them from twice the distance they could even return fire.

A soul-rending chorus of screams echoed across the parapet, followed rapidly by the cacophony of a thousand men abruptly running for their lives.

Everyone rushed for the stairs and ladders, trampling over each other in the process. Some were pushed over the wall in the rush, falling to a quick or agonizingly slow death.

Only fifty or so fortunate men managed to make it down the stairs before the second wave of arrows reached their destination. A quarter of the men still atop the wall were hit.

Half of those hit were killed, and the other half were practically immobilized.

Their commander wouldn’t even have needed to give them the command to fall back, were he still alive. Liam realized in that moment that there was nothing he could do from where he stood. He dashed for the stairs.

•

Two hours had passed. Liam was still desperately trying to keep up with the situation as he took in his surroundings.

The gate was long gone, the city was flooded with these long-eared men from beyond the palisade, and they were well beyond a tactical defeat at this point. As soon as the southern gate fell, the enemy army came in like a tidal wave, totally overwhelming the Gevilian forces in numbers and individual strength alike.

Despite this, Liam simply refused to give up. The Civilians had been ordered to evacuate towards the keep in the northernmost point of the city, but many simply couldn't make it in time. The soldiers were tasked with encircling the keep and defending against the seemingly endless number of 'sharp-ear soldiers' as the people had taken to calling them based on their long, pointed ears.

The enemies didn't seem to be bothered too much by this, being preoccupied by their amusement at the fact that the humans they were slaughtering were so ignorant that they weren't even aware what they were fighting.

Even more distressingly, they seemed very busy with a second objective; they were seizing children and locking them in rolling cages, carting them out of town when they were full. Only the god of the underworld could say with certainty what terrible things those children would endure.

Liam had already noticed by this point, as he was observing his men, that the formation was being pushed back. Slowly but surely, they were moving ever-closer to the refuge of the defenseless townsfolk.

He had already personally killed over 70 of the sharp-ears, though he wasn't keeping track for himself. One may wonder how he even managed to stay alive or maintain his will to fight, but the only answer to speak of was that the Gevilian captain's heart was now a bottomless well of unbridled rage and despisal.

He was facing a foe so apathetic to human life that they felt nothing even as they brutalized countless innocent townspeople. And Liam was these people's defender. He despised the sharp-ears more than he thought a human being even to be capable of.

Slice. One, gone.

Stab. Another.

Liam's eyes were clouded in his fury as he cut apart the sharp-ears, but even in his state, he realized what was happening.

They were losing.

The strength of humanity simply couldn't hold up against something like this.

The captain's mind began to race. How could he turn this around? Was there some trump card they had in reserve? He wondered if even Saton's masterpiece could tilt this battle in their favor. For every five sharp-ears he slew, eight of his comrades fell. They were at such a consistent disadvantage that it was ridiculous. There must be an answer.

Two more of his men fell.

Liam realized then, the true meaning of a hopeless battle.

All of a sudden, like a torch was struck and illuminated his mind, Liam reached the answer to his question; there was simply no way for him to win.

No matter what he did, he and the rest of this city's inhabitants were going to be massacred. He didn't want to believe this simple fact, but now he had to. But did he truly have the willpower to order a retreat?

Not that it was even up to him.

A sword skimmed past his face and he was suddenly pulled from his introspection back to reality. There were four sharp-ears before him. He was alone. He was pushing his mind to its absolute limits to keep up with the situation.

He was already tired, even if not exhausted. The sharp-ears were stronger than him on their own, to say nothing of how superior they were in a group. If he stood and fought now, it would be an exercise in futility. All these things ran through Liam's adrenaline-riddled mind in a single instant.

As an experienced fighter, he didn't even need to truly rationalize these facts in his head before making his decision.

He dashed back, withdrawing from the confrontation. He had to find and group up with several more soldiers to take on four sharp-ears at once.

The man frantically searched his surroundings as he fled, only to come to the chilling realization that every last one of the soldiers in his area were already dead. He had been so caught up in the grand scale of the situation that he failed to notice.

His already fleeting hope drained away as he took in his surroundings.

The streets were littered with the mutilated bodies of his comrades. Guts and viscera smeared the stone. There was so much blood pooling that it almost looked like the aftermath of a rainstorm. It was something unforgettable to see the ground soaked in so much blood that you could see your reflection in it.

The four sharp-ears weren't far behind him. He had to make a choice between many equally terrible options.

Liam could stand and fight, defending his people, bringing about his inevitable death.

He felt that he should, driven by his pride as a knight, but something deep within him, something primal urged him toward another option. As he saw the expressions on the severed heads of the soldiers around him, though he couldn't speak for them, he couldn't convince himself that they died feeling pride in the role they played.

Liam felt in this moment that he could see everything illuminated in a light he had never seen the world through before. The model captain had realized something very simple; if he fought to the death in this instance, he would not save even a single person.

His sacrifice would be completely and utterly in vain. The sharp-ear he managed to kill would fall, and so would he. Then, the survivors would keep moving forward and massacre the refugees. There was nothing he could do to change this fact.

He hated himself. Liam absolutely despised himself for what entered his mind next. But he didn't blame himself for it. That he had to make this choice was the fault of the damned sharp-ears and none other.

Liam decided to run for his life. If the refugees were to die no matter what choice he made, he had no better option than to ensure his own survival. And so, he fled. Liam, the true knight, fled for his life to the west.

He ran as fast as he could.

He could feel hot tears run down his face as he ran faster than he had ever run in his pathetic little existence. He was crying not for the poor townspeople whose inevitable deaths weighed heavy in his mind, nor for himself, whose selfishness may let him live, but for spite.

Liam cried in sheer contempt for the savages who brought this upon him.

He passed many of them as he ran for the western wall, severing their limbs and heads, spitting on the bodies of those he found dead. They could hardly land a strike on him as fast as he was running. He could feel the air grow heavier the further he went, but it meant nothing to him.

His mind was not preoccupied with something as trivial as his own health. Liam thought of nothing but his eternal enemies. He thought of what he would do to him if he ever met the bastard who ordered this to happen.

The time he spent running across the entire city felt like an instant for him.

All of a sudden, he had reached the wall.

He turned and severed the head of a sharp-ear who had followed him under the assumption that he was a helpless human running in desperation. His muscles were sending signals to his brain that would never be acknowledged.

As soon as he found the western gate, broken and battered, he vaulted over the rubble and continued his mad dash. Blinded by his fury, he failed to notice the many sharp-ear guards watching on the outside, but only a couple approached him.

He promptly slew them and ran on. He would never even know that their on-site superior had ordered them to let him go so he could spread the fear. They had been letting only strong looking humans flee because they knew a strong man describing a hopeless situation made it ever-more frightening.

And so, Liam Broderick the true knight fled.