by Galen Wolf
“What about sandstone?”
Oliver strokes his chin. “Better defence — it goes up from a durability of 100 to 250. Enemies will need specialised artillery to take that down. But the cost goes up too to 250,000 marks.”
I whistle. I can’t afford that. “It’ll have to be limestone for now. When can you start?”
“We need to get the minerals there and the workers, and we’re besieged. So we can’t start.”
That’s a problem. “There are no architects in Alston town? Or anywhere nearby?”
He shakes his head. “You would do me out of business?”
I blush. “Not really, but you know, I need the walls.”
“But the answer is no. I’m your only architect between here and Dunelm to the east and Caer to the south.”
“Okay. Let me think.” I get up and shake his head.
“We might not meet again, Sir Gorrow,” he says.
“Don’t say that Oliver. I have a plan.”
With that I leave and I’m back on the muddy streets of Camelot. The sky is overcast and the cloudbase glows red. Everybody looks despondent, as if they’re simply waiting for the end.
I make my way to the Knights Tower. It’s taken a direct hit high up, but is still standing. This time, the guards step smartly aside for me and salute. “Welcome, Sir Gorrow.”
I’m a knight now. I guess I’ve got my own chamber, though I’ve never been there. I decide to go and see Luc. He’s in there with Bernard. They both seem pleased to see me.
“Sorry about the death,” I say.
He shrugs. “More annoying than anything. But of course the less of us on the battlefield the more chance they have of winning the battle.”
“And that’s what they did,” Bernard says.
“It’s not over yet.” I sit on a stool. “How do I get my coat of arms made?”
Luc says, “The herald is just down the passage. He’s got a room of his own. Go and see him. I think it costs.”
“That’s okay. I haven’t even been to my chambers yet.”
Luc laughs. “You should do that. I’m guessing they’ll be like these.” He gestures to his own narrow room.
“It’s just good to be here.”
“Well deserved,” Bernard says. “I’ll come and see where your rooms are.” They both get up and we find a narrow stone wall room on the bottom level of the Knights Tower. It’s got no windows, but it’ll do. “Room really,” I say. “Not rooms.”
They both laugh. It’s good to find something to laugh about these dark days.
“I’m just sorting things out at the moment, I’ll head to the herald now,” I say.
“You’re coming to the Council of War?” Luc says.
“I’m invited?”
“All Knights of the Round Table are invited.”
Bernard says, “But not alchemists. The head of the Guild will be there, but not ordinary joes like me.”
I leave them and go to the Herald. The NPC is sitting at a chair drawing heraldic designs on parchment with a quill. He dips his quill nib into the inkwell and sketches out crosses, fleurs de lys, blazons and bars. Then he hands them to juniors to colour in. He glances up and puts down his quill. Folding his arms he says, “Sir Gorrow, I’m guessing you’ve come about your coat of arms?”
I suppose that’s the most common reason for anyone coming to see him so I nod.
“Any thoughts on the design?” He beckons for me to sit.
“I’ve been pondering,” I say. “But I’m not sure. Do you have suggestions?”
“What did the king dub you?”
I remember the moment. “He called me Sir Gorrow of the Bloody Field.”
The Herald smiles. “That gives us something to work on. The field would be green, yes?”
“To start off with. A muddy brown when we were finished.”
“But green suggests a field. So your background would be green. Happy with that?”
“Sounds fine.”
“And for the blood,” he says. “We could have drops of blood?”
Sounds too messy. “No, I’m not sure about that.”
“Something more geometric?”
“Yes.”
“Circles, maybe?”
I shrug. I’m still not seeing it.
“What about a chevron?”
That might work.
“In red of course,” he says. “For the blood.”
“Could you sketch it?”
He draws me a shield with a chevron on it. Pretty simple, but somehow classy. I’ll go with that.
“Some people don’t like red on green,” he says, “But if we make it a pale green and a ruby red, what about that?” To illustrate what he’s said he gives his sketch to his junior who colours it just like he described it. It looks surprisingly good.
“Yes, I’ll go with that.”
“Twenty marks please.”
I pay up and he says, “You should see your shield with that design, next time you take it from your inventory and your lance will have a pennant with your coat of arms on it.”
I take both out and he’s right. I’ve got my own coat of arms!
I thank the herald profusely.
“Just doing my job,” he says and waves as I leave the room.
I meet Luc and he says, “Time for the Council of War.” I follow as he leads from the Knights’ Tower inside the inner curtain wall and to the main keep. The armoured guards step aside. There are other knights going in. We go up the stairs to the Council Chamber and for the first time I see the Round Table itself. Some knights are seated. The King sits opposite the wall.
“Sir Gorrow and Sir Luc. It’s good to see our new, brave knights playing their part.”
When all the chairs are occupied, Sir Lancelot, who has the role of King’s Marshall, calls for order and says, “Let us begin.”
26
The Council of War
They all sit in their appointed places: Sir Galahad, Sir Cei, Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristan, Sir Bedivere, Sir Gawain, Sir Bors, Sir Hector, Sir Lamorak, Sir Parsifal, Sir Geraint, Sir Agravain, Sir Duncan and Sir Mercurius, and I’m there with them, Sir Gorrow, sitting next to Sir Luc, the youngest and least experienced of the knights around the table, but the table is round, signifying we are all equal in esteem and honour. I hope I don’t let down my brothers in arms.
Sir Lancelot, as marshal, takes the lead and King Arthur smiles grimly as he watches him.
“The situation is grave,” Sir Lancelot says. “The enemy is at the gate in overwhelming numbers. The pterosaurs harry the city from the air and our alchemists and archers do their best to protect us from them.”
Sir Gawain clears his throat. “How long do we have?”
Sir Cei interrupts him. “You talk already as if we’ve lost.” He looks to the King for support. “Such defeatist talk should not be heard from we knights. If we believe the city is lost the common folk will lose the will to fight.”
Luc leans in. “He means they’ll have a critical morale failure and run.”
I’ve seen Dwemmers and suchlike break and run when things looked unwinnable. I guess our NPCs might do the same thing. I frown.
The King puts up his hand for peace. “I want everyone here to feel free to air their views.”
Galahad says, “I’d rather we were all realistic about this. The force outside is overwhelming. They will batter their way in sooner or later.”
Cei gives a loud harrumph. Galahad turns to him and shrugs. “It’s true.”
“The king must be evacuated,” Lancelot says. “That’s the end of it.”
There’s muttering around the table. Galahad, who seems to be Lancelot’s ally says, “If the king is killed here, it will be an enormous propaganda victory for Satanus and his forces. And also a huge blow to our people in cities further south. We don’t want them to think the war is unwinnable.”
I see Luc rub his eyes. I’ve seen Satanus’s forces outside. If Camelot falls, then Satanus will just march
his armies south either to Caer or Efrog, wherever he chooses and the same thing will happen there.
Mercurius speaks up. “It seems to me there are two separate issues here. The first is the larger war, which we must and can win.”
“But how?” asks Bors.
Mercurius rubs his chin. “There will be a way. Better strategy. I don’t know here and now.”
Lancelot frowns as if Mercurius is directly criticising him, but I know my old mentor better, he’s merely being honest.
“But,” continues Mercurius. “I agree. The king can’t die here. Especially if he’s bound here. Because if he is, every time he resurrects, they’ll kill him again.”
King Arthur nods. “I am bound here in Camelot.”
More muttering, threatening to break out into chaos until Lancelot again calls for order. “Thank you, Sir Mercurius. You have clarified things for us.”
“So the king must retreat,” Galahad says.
This time, now that Mercurius has pointed out the danger from the king always coming back to a bind-point in enemy territory and getting killed over and over, there is general, resigned agreement.
“But how do we get out?” Bors says.
Mercurius says, “We need a diversion. We send troops out by the East Gate, looking like it’s a regular plan to outflank them so they don’t realise it’s a diversion. When they bite, the king goes out with picked knights and as many NPCs as we can spare by the South Gate. Then he heads down to Efrog or Caer.”
“To Caer”, Lancelot says. “The road is less mountainous and so quicker.”
For the first time the King gives his opinion. “The sight of me dying time after time would be a humiliation which would crack the will of the people. So, with great reluctance, I agree. I have to withdraw with my picked guards.”
Various knights volunteer to escort their king. The suicide mission of course is the diversion.
Mercurius says, “Can everyone who isn’t bound in Camelot please raise their hands?”
That’s me and a few others. And I thought forgetting to move my bind-point from Croglin was a mistake. I give a wry smile.
“May I suggest that everyone who is bound in Camelot, tries to get away and bind somewhere else?” Mercurius says.
There are shrugs and hollow laughter. They know he’s right.
“Right,” Lancelot says. “There is little more to say. Those going with the king can stay here. I would suggest that Gorrow and Mercurius meet separately to plan their diversion.”
“The only thing we need to know is a time.”
I clear my throat. “How about in six game hours time? Does that give people enough time to get ready?”
It’s five hours later and I’m with Mercurius, mounted and armoured by the East Gate. The King and his escort are ready at the South Gate. “I thought you were bound in Camelot?” I ask.
“I am.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
He laughs. “I can’t let my squire face this alone.”
I look at my red and green pennant hanging from my lance.
“Okay, not my squire anymore, but I still feel a sense of responsibility.”
“Mercurius, I’m really grateful, but you need to keep going when they open the gate. If you have time to return after you’ve bound somewhere else, then come back. But if you don’t then don’t. You know we aren’t going to come out of this alive.”
The sky is dark. Torches burn from the top of the gate. There are fires in the city caused by enemy artillery and the NPCs are rushing around trying to put them out. The towers around the walls look pretty bashed up now. I hear the north wall may breach soon. Then they’ll be through. If this little ruse to get the king to safety doesn’t work, then we won’t have time to plan another.
I look around. There are four or five other knights there and the same amount of squires. Lancelot has managed to scrape us a unit of spearmen and a unit of halberdiers from the city defenders. We have a unit of archers and there’s also a unit of mounted NPC sergeants with lances and leather armour. We need it to look like it’s a genuine counter-attack, even if all of these NPCs get slaughtered. I think it’s a waste then I remember, when the enemy breaches the walls, they’re going to get slaughtered anyway.
There’s a noise on the ramparts. Someone whispers loudly. I look up to see an alchemist. It’s Bernard. What the heck is he doing here?
“I’m actually bound in Alauna on the west coast. I went there for alchemy supplies and ended up binding. Lucky, eh?”
I laugh. “If you say so.”
But the whisper was to tell us the king is ready. I look to Mercurius but he looks back at me. “You’re in charge of this little jaunt. You give the order.”
I’m in charge? Well, heck.
I feel a tightness in my throat when I order the NPCs to open the gates. I hear the heavy rumble of chains and the massive reinforced wood gates budge open. When there’s enough room to march through, I give the order for the advance. The spearmen go first, then the halberdiers then us. I’m jittery with anticipation as we leave the city. Bernard waves behind me from the top of the walls. “Good luck, Gorrow.”
I’ll need it.
I hear the marching feet, the jingling of bridles, the sound of armour and weapons, but the men keep quiet. So do the players.
The first unit of Dwemmers is not expecting us. I go forward on Spirit till I’m level with our spearmen NPCs. I give the order to charge. The Dwemmers are easily routed. We then march north so we can outflank the main enemy force which is lined up against Camelot’s north wall.
I see their camp fires. There are so many of them. They seem at ease, as if they’d never expected us to try to get round them. But we need to keep going. I order archers to light their arrows and fire. The sky’s filled with hundreds of fire arrows arcing over and into the enemy ranks. Now they know we’re here. But of course that was the whole point. We wouldn’t be much of a diversion of they didn’t notice us.
The enemy start to marshal their forces, but before they get into battle array, I order a charge. The spears go first, flanked by the halberdiers. Archers are behind peppering the enemy ranks with fire until our spears hit them. I order the hobilars to go up and round and outflank them. I hear the crunch as our spears engaged. Cursing, shouting and the sound of steel and wood. We have them pinned, now it’s time for the cavalry to go round. One of the player knights comes to me. “Okay if we go forward?”
He’s asking me — Gorrow. Knighted only a day or so ago.
I nod. “Yes, but go and hit them from the left. The hobilars are attacking from the right. I want them rolled up like a carpet.”
The knight goes off with two or three others. Mercurius laughs out loud. “Looks like you’ve got this and I was worrying you might need some help.”
I shrug. “I had a good teacher. You need to go. Go east. Like I say, if you get time to come back, do. But don’t worry about this. I’ll see you when I’m dead.”
He gives me a salute. “Okay Gorrow. Give them hell.” Then he turns and spurs his horse away. I watch him go until he’s enveloped by darkness on his ride east.
I’m sorry to see him go but then my attention is grabbed by a cheer from our front ranks. The enemy has broken and run. I send an order to our cavalry to cut them down as they flee. The fewer NPCs they have left the better. Their players must be bound up north in Birdoswald, the last settlement they captured, so if we kill players it’s going to take them a while to get back.
We advance across the dark field. The enemy’s getting more prepared but we’ve caught them by surprise. The morale of our troops is high as we push north into the main enemy host.
Then a unit of Ogres appears and crashes into our halberdiers who struggle and strain, but hold the line.
It’s time for me to attack. I’m all on my own. No Mercurius to hold my hand. No Adele, no Luc or Bernard. But I do have this crystal lance.
Spirit whinnies. He’s ready. Then out of the d
ark comes a flutter of white. Blodeuwedd the owl appears.
“Hey,” she says. “Don’t often catch you alone.”
I remember that she generally only appears when I’m on my own. “Got any advice?” I ask.
She chitters. “I don’t think you need my advice now, Sir Gorrow. I’m just here for moral support.”
I appreciate that. There’s a cry from the halberdiers. They are being pressed hard by the enemy and it looks like they might break.
I say to the owl, “Flutter up, watch from above. Don’t get hurt.”
“I’m immortal, don’t you know,” Blodeuwedd. She still flutters up.
I couch my lance and charge.
The ogres are chopping holes in our halberdiers. I hit one in the flank with my crystal lance. I crit for 3000 and kill it outright.
I swap my lance for my sword and hack into the next one. In three hacks I kill that one, giving our halberdiers respite as the ogres back off. Our NPCs counter-charge, with me at their head. Because I’m charging I use my crystal lance and I skewer an Ogre Sergeant.
They’e running. We charge after them, cutting them down. We’re nearly in line with the North Gate of Camelot now. Our defenders on the walls give out a huge cheer as they see us routing the enemy. Flights of fire-arrows from our archers shoot over my head and into the backs of our foes.
Then I see movement from my right. It looks like a big group of enemy player characters is mounting a response to us. They charge and take on our player knights and squires. There’s a huge melee, and I go to help. I charge an enemy player from the Reapers and I hit him in his back, knocking him from his horse. The impact of my lance kills him instantly. I feel almost overpowered as the xp surges in.
