“Ah, my trusty sword!” says Helmet, picking up his blade from the weapon’s pile as if reunited with a lost friend. “You know this is the second item I have mislaid in as many days. Pure carelessness that does not befit the behaviour of a knight - alas it shames me so. Only last night did I lose my shield, a loss I lament. I will stake the honour of my ancestors that there is some dastard Angorkan ner’do’well currently cavorting with it ‘pon the streets of Kera’Bur.”

“What’s it look like?” asks Hy-Jinx, inquisitively.

“Like a shield,” replies Helmet in all seriousness, not seeing the potential for the humour of the response.

“Gotcha,” says Hy-Jinx registering the detail before turning to Bembry and nudging him slightly in the ribs. “Make sure you keep your eyes open for a shield like shield. It’s a shield like a shield but perhaps a bit more shieldy than you’re typically used to.”

“Will do,” says Bembry dryly.

“Hy-Jinx?” Madeleine says, carefully inserting a collection of needle-like daggers into the leather sleeves of her jacket.

“Hmm?”

“Are you ready, because we need your game face on.”

“You’re a one to talk!” She responds cheekily. Madeleine just stares silently back. A stare that perhaps intimates a threat. “Don’t worry, I’m ready,” Hy-Jinx says quietly, worried that she may have overstepped herself.

THUD! CREAK!

Madeleine takes a deep breath: “Everyone else ready?”

“Err, ready for what exactly?” asks Helmet.

“What’s to come,” says Madeleine.

“Ready,” says Bembry, tightening the straps of the crossbow now back on his back.

“Ready,” says Dozer, fully loaded again with equipment.

Hood just sniffs and blinks. His eyes narrowing with concern as he peers closer at the crossbeam of the door, certain that he has perceived what looks like a dim glow across its centre. He slowly raises a hand to point. Everyone else turns to follow the direction of his finger.

THUD! CREAK! SPLINTER!

The crossbeam suddenly bows in the centre and the doors bulge inwards with a greater pronouncement than any previous instance, but the doors continue to hold

Hood suddenly realises the nature of the dull chanting from beyond the doors. His face, if his face could be seen, visibly pales. “RUN!” he rasps but no sooner has he let forth this sibilant utterance, a commotion on either side of the hall arises.

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From the stairs on either side, reds and blues pour forth - the reds from the east, the blues from the west, swords drawn, spilling around the columns. The two forces hesitantly standing ground, eyeing each other, squaring off momentarily, until almost in unison their heads turn towards the companions standing over the pile of unconscious guardsman lying at their feet.

“What the…!”

It is interesting to watch the collective body language of a divided group suddenly ripple-change into a cohesive unit. More interesting however, is the sight of the bright blistering red light that is silently burning through the central crossbeam holding the doors shut at the end of the hall. A sight that only the companions are currently aware of.

“Here, is that that guy who let the barbarian’s in?” a voice from the ranks enquires.

“You seem to have quite the reputation Helmet,” Madeleine says dryly, “Remind me to have a chat with you after this is all over.”

“You do seem famous,” says Hy-Jinx. “What exactly did you…” she stops mid-sentence, her mouth open wide…along with Dozer’s and Bembry’s and probably Hood’s, Madeleine’s and Helmet’s if their mouths could be seen.

Behind the ranked guardsman, the red flame has finished burning through the crossbeam, and the hallway doors, on well oiled hinges, slowly and silently swing open. Framed by the doorway, and the slowly burgeoning light of dawn, what can only be described as a vast barbarian horde, some standing, some sitting, some lounging, occupy Bellview Square. Centrally figured, a large sweating muscle bound group stand either side of a huge giant of a fellow, horizontally laid out - as long as a tree trunk - bound in ropes and capped in a flat metal helmet with strange glowing symbols on it. In front of them bedecked in tattoos and wearing little else, two bald and wrinkled individuals, one male, one female stand with what looks like expressions of quiet satisfaction.

Dozer lifts a muscled arm and pointing, screams: “Barbarians!”

The whole cohort of guards stand motionless.

“D’you think we’re stupid or something?!” one asks incredulously, almost insulted.

“Idiot - that’s the oldest trick in the book! We’re not going to fall for that one.” shouts another.

“Err, lads?” a worried voice from the back attempts to sow doubt amidst the confidence.

“And ladies!” says a critical but well-meaning voice from the middle, not picking up on just what the naysayer at the back may be referring to.

“Ere’ ‘as it just got a lot lighter in here or what?” says another, as dawn slowly dawns on them, a gust of wind wafting the pungent aroma of sweat and uncured fox hides into the hall.

“Hairy, scary barbarians! I can’t tell where the hair ends and the fox fur begins - but by the god’s I can smell it!” shouts Hy-Jynx.

“HOOO! YARRRRRRGH!” bellow a thousand Barbarians, as those that were sitting and lounging take to their feet, hefting axes and clubs, and weapons of choice.

“Are you sure we’re all ready?” giggles Hy-Jynx nervously, “Cos that looks like a whole lot of ready that I ‘m not ready for.”

“DWORF KILL!” screams the giant in what sounds like a high pitched, incongruous falsetto, as he picks himself up from the ground, brushing the ropes from his muscle knotted torso. Clearly brain addled and worse for wear, Dworf, after being used as a battering ram, can barely stand steady, grabbing the upper arch stones of the doorway to balance himself, the metal bucket hat strapped to his head falling clumsily over his eyes, which he rights with meaty fingers.

Trembling, the reds and blues turn away from the companions to take in the dreadful silent sight behind them. The sound of a collective gulp emanating from the group as they recognise what they are up against: the looming presence of Dworf, the terrifying sight of the sorcerers and the might of the barbarian army. The guard’s leaders, now finding themselves at the rear of the group, regain a minutiae of confidence, and glimpsing the first rays of sunlight break across Bellview Square, shout out the command of: “Charge!”…