text: “Don’t put that on yet!” Gjord shot at his squire as the lad froze. “Where’s the leather lining? Ye rattle the walls with that tin bowl.” He watched as his squire buckled the helmet back onto his side. “Stolen.” Alderic “Stolen?” Gjord “Eaten more liketh,” Alderic proclaimed. “Say you nothing of the sort, Les I see Incitatus,” Gjord said solemnly whilst drawing his large flail and placing it on his armour backplate. They both started to whisper as they walked along the base of a fortified wall. They were masked by the night, reduced to ear-shot vision. “Thy horse was not eaten sire,” Alderic said in a failed attempt to console. “Silence!” Gjord said with a reserved volume but agitated tempo. “How many torch lights was that?” Whispered a fellow soldier trailing behind Alderic. “Shhhh,” abruptly silenced the curious axeman’s question from all sides. The man walked deadpan after the rebukes. He too rotated his Dane-axe to his back. Gjord stopped and starred at Alderic until he halted. They could make out silhouettes looking back the way they came. Multiple moonlit soldiers clanked by in their heavy plating. The first of which, the rebuked axeman. Gjord nodded to the young knight and he could see an instant jolt of courage in the boy. “Fourteen torches Alderic,” Gjord said while his vision was diverted to a heavy sword squad. The squad was pointing to a dark line on the lighter yet still greyish-black sand-blasted wall. Slight cracks in the wall almost glowed under the hazy moon-assisted lighting. As Gjord and Alderic started to walk again, the dark line grew and bulged at some moments. “Well, there it is, let us go,” Gjord said as he motioned Alderic to drop his pack. Alderic dropped a large sack with a “PING,” as he did so, a grappling hook poking from the bag hit a metallic rock. Unperturbed by this, he then proceeded to kick the sack with the ropes, and the hooks into nearby shrubbery. Gjord shaking his head turned to watch his fellow horseless knights ascend a simple ladder on a wall they marvelled for months. He then caught eyes with a nearby long-swordman who had a rabid aura about him. As the soldier passed Gjord saw a nightmarish lust in the man’s eyes. The man kept toward the breach and the mist seemed to retreat from him. Alderic, being clumsy but keenly observant felt the anxiety as well, more than just the usual battle tension. These men had a hunger about them. Just then Alderic and another encumbered tank of a knight brushed shoulders and they both nearly toppled, on the way down they grabbed each other in desperation. The knight almost ripping Alderics shoulder strap, and Alderic nearly pulling off his glove. Once the both of them regained composure, Alderic followed the careless knight without a say or acknowledgement, for these things happened when your helm allowed you little sight; let alone awareness. “I see sire, the helms a liability in these shadows,” Alderic whispered. “Ye want to toss it on when those Syrian archers find us,” Gjord. “By then I hope I’m fighting in the Bazaar, with pomegranate, and dates,” Alderic divulged. “I hope I’m in a bathhouse by then,” a knight said as he almost collided with Alderics loafing pace. “Or a Haram.” Gjord pulled Alderic aside and said, “many men are here for God, but many are for themselves.” “Aye, and he, we can predict well,” Alderic said while giving the ladder a shake. The men already climbing barely noticed a wiggle and Gjord began to climb. “Give me strength lord,” Gjord said under his breath as he climbed the ladder, a simple ladder that negated such a robust fortification. It creaked and groaned and he wasn’t certain it would hold the heavy infantry it was channelling up the barricade. As he progressed he could hear the wind howling first through the chasm then through his armour. Sweat was pooling in the tips of his gauntlets as he crested the checker-top wall. The light on the other side was almost blinding. It was no wonder the perimeter guards didn’t see their band approach. Torches only light that which is lit. The procession of knights Gjord led shunned torches and in turn, embraced darkness. Gjord lifted his leg over the wall, taking great care not to lean too far in one direction, for his armour would carry him off cliff or wall, it cared not for his life and obeyed *God’s forces*, he thought. Already counting his men before his feet touched to the floor he asked: “Where is Juniper’s troop?” “Already at it sire,” Another horseless knight admitted. “We told him to wait, but he didn’t bother.” Gjord stormed toward the guard shack with Alderic in tow. As Gjord entered the turret he withdrew a dagger and looked to his right. Alderic quickly did the same in the opposite direction. Together they entered back to back. The room was fiery orange, they both beheld a down struck torch, its flames already climbing the walls and a straw bed’s legs. There was blood smeared all over the bricks in that spot, flickering orange and red as the fire showcased its violence. Gjord swung around to see the Juniper troop hacking something on the other side. Beside that, a foreigner, paralyzed in fear looking opposite to Juniper’s crew. One of the violent knights turned whilst shaking his dipped and drenched blade. “Gjord, my lord,” Juniper exalted. “What should we do with this traitor?” “He is a friend of ours, whatever his reasons,” Gjord “I disagree,” Juniper said as Alderic gave him an insubordinate look. Juniper took a step to the foreign wretch and the man cowered slightly, shook, then stood tall giving Juniper a defiant stare. “Do you have his coins?” Juniper questioned as if the thought fowled his soul. “Here, I need not know thy reasons,” Gjord said in an apologetic but curious tone as he passed a bag of gold to the foreigner. “God wants none of this,” The foreigner said as he grabbed the bag. “I Merely want to end the siege, you’re stubborn armies hold people in sufferance everyplace they clash.” “Our God demands thy sufferance!” Juniper expelled. “That is no god,” the man said as he looked for the best way out of the turret and tensions. Upon seeing this Juniper motioned his men to block the exit. Gjord waved his hand and said, “Wait, I cannot allow you’re departure nor will I satisfy my men with slaughter. You must wait here under guard until we have secured the eastern gate.” “Will you satisfy thy lord and saviour?” Juniper queried in a rebellious stance with his gory blade pointed between Gjord and the foreigner. “I ate horse, leather, sifted dung for grain and drank blood all so I could carry out my lord’s wrath!” “You will carry out thy orders Juniper, you’re men are loyal to me and I will see them through this, body and soul,” Gjord said as Alderic stepped in front of him brandishing a longsword dwarfing the men in the room. “They are loyal to God!” Juniper yelled as he grabbed Alderics sword guard disabling Alderic and him in the melee while his retinue exploded onto the foreigner. Gjord desperately covered Alderics exposed back while the poor foreigner was prodded and kicked by the sharp and heavy instruments. The men, filled with sedition but grounded to a perspective they thought was endorsed by God were reluctant to turn on fellow knights. “Stop this I BEG OF YOU!” Gjord said in a diplomatic but stern tone. Juniper knowing full well his men had accomplished his wishes let go of Alderics sword guard and wrist plating. “That man helped our God, we would have starved in that cursed valley if it wasn’t for that man you’ve snuffed.” Alderic protested. “How dare you speak of God!” “I speak and act for Jesus Christ almiterrrrwhalpssss,” Juniper’s speech was severed by his own blood as his chest was punched out from the inside. The men in the room stood frozen. Watching as Juniper clawed at a hole in his chest while something dark quickly rescinded into the wound. Juniper’s mouth fell wide as his eyes lost focus and he slumped still. “Archers!” One of Juniper’s men cried as he searched the ceiling frantically. Many of the other men turned their attention to Gjord, who was already fixated on a dark spot under a table in the large circular room. “What is arrwwg,” One of Juniper’s men tried to say as a flash relieved him of his head. Gjord could see a phantom in the midst of the soldiers, withdrawing his flail, he began to swing it beside Alderic, covering their left flank. Another soldier fell from a massive wound to the belly. Groaning he reached up with his bloody sword and screamed, “DEMONS!” While swinging at the ethereal notions of a man that danced over his disfigured body. Alderic, still frozen and holding his longsword, could not comprehend the events; yet would no longer remain idle. He exploded toward the last of Juniper’s guard whilst the frightened soldier shielded and withdrew into a viewport depression in the turrets sporadically lit walls. Alderic stopped, he wanted to help the lad not frighten him more, and he was trained better than to chase the desperate, let alone a cornered man in the shadows. At this point, they could no longer see any phantoms near the soldier so they both looked back at the table. The beast there could be seen in more details now yet still transient, smiling, or snarling; they could not tell. Light reflected off its sheen in alien ways. It began to descend, right through brick and mortar. It was still smiling when it disappeared amongst the impervious floor. Alderic was the first to speak, “What in the nine levels?” Gjord finally stopped flailing his weapon and thought *Devils...* as he visually scoured the room for more carnations. “Antioch has cursed us,” Alderic said as the last soldier slowly stepped out of his cavity and into the light. The soldier ran past Alderic and turned his back to the most well-lit part of the room. Sword drawn and sporadically searching, the man would not die without a swing. Unlike his freshly bled kin, strewn across the floor in ways their mortal bodies could never endure. “Alderic to me!” Gjord said as Alderic instinctively walked backwards toward his mentor. Alderic was now within reach of Gjord. “What is thy name knight,” Gjord asked, piercing the man’s psychosis. “Götrich,” Götrich said. “Götrich, Goooötrich of York,” He studdered, swallowing his words. “You see that knob behind you?” Gjord asked watching Götrich fail to look past a point that forced him to turn his head. “Right.... Alderic, watch my sides. Götrich, fall in behind us if you must, and God give us strength!” Gjord said and promptly kicked the door with dagger poised in hand again whilst his flail was wrapped on his right leg. The door opened back to the quiet night air. Multiple crusaders filed in numerous directions as quietly as their cumbersome armour allowed. “Woooooooe,” A large decorated knight said to Gjord as he came out of the room dagger drawn and splattered by gore. The Regent looked Gjord up and down. “Thou were supposed to keep it civil and quiet, thy exit implies thou were neither.” “We lost men, three of them, there was,” Gjord was cut off when another company began to open the city gates and finally the city came alive with trumpets, despair, and confusion. Fires seemed to spontaneously erupt in places where the screams were loudest. The gates exploded inward before they could fully open and moon glistened soldiers began to fill the courtyard. As fire and death spread amongst the city Gjord tried again, to address the now mesmerized king. “Sire as I was saying there was,” this time cut off by the king’s hand, held up high in a dismissive gesture. “Take my retinue and attack the heathens mosque. They will likely retreat there and we mustn’t allow a siege within a siege,” the giddy king proclaimed. “We still don’t know what killed..” Gjord was shut up again by someone thrown from a nearby turret. The scream could be heard over everything, yet, most barely noticed the macabre plummet. Including the King who ignored Gjord and began speaking with another visibly noble knight. Gjord, now facing Alderic and thirty or so well-armed long swordsmen whose eager faces reeked of a king’s retinue gave in to the royal demands and lead the men toward the giant mosque. As they descended the ancient steps, arrows and javelin were thrown amongst them. Shielding himself, one knight blocked a large javelin from a watchtower only to take two arrows in the back of his neck. The chainmail burst apart as the arrows split the links and found their way deep into his chest. He slipped off the steps in a manner devoid of all stubborn life. Alderic, being shieldless like his master Gjord tried to close with a soldier to his left who brandished a pincushion of a shield. The man hurried down faster than Alderics leg joints could handle and upon trying to gain him, Alderic tripped and fell ten feet to the courtyard below. Fully suited in a metal body, Alderic struggled face first in what could have only been a shop stall he crushed in his fall. He shoved the broken wood and pottery in an attempt to roll himself onto his back. However something stopped him, beams and shelving caved in such a way that pinned Adleric face-first in a hay-filled pile of debris he could barely breathe in. His helmet didn’t help, it was hard to breathe without the oxygen-depleted bazaar stand rubble that laboured his efforts. He gasped, breathing in dust and filth, but no air. As he struggled other hands began to remove many of the weights holding Alderic to the dirt. Gjord grabbed Alderics dusty arm and dragged him from the rubble. Alderic being in no energized state rolled complacently down the pile of debris finally gaining some air. Alderics air crisis was barely quenched when he picked up his head and saw knights storm the three-story dwellings to their front. These dwellings, moments before, held deadly archers raining death upon their descent. They now housed murderous crusaders hacking and killing anything they could find. “To ME!” Gjord said as Alderic painfully picked himself off the floor. The retinue filed in around Gjord, and Alderic fell in with the men and steel. The streets were now filled with more than just rivalling armies, but people, women and children, young and old were all displaced by murderous assault. Crowds ran on both sides of Gjord’s platoon, and as the crusaders progressed through the arid streets, the odd civilian threw something or tried to stab a displaced soldier. Checking his retinue Gjord saw a soldier struck in the head with a brick and the poor man slumped instantly to the cobblestone road. Another took an arrow in the leg and when Gjord finally saw the man struggling to get back to them he was swarmed by people kicking and screaming in foreign tongues. “Forward!” Gjord shouted. Finally, the men approached the massive steps of the mosque. Tired and weary Alderic was acting solely on instinct. His nerves were shot, his muscles ached, and his armour barely responded to his will but he drudged on. Shuffling his heavy legs toward the staircase. He watched as three women ran by and up the stairs. At that moment a pot was thrown from the mosque’s elevated position. It smashed on a soldier with strange steam and the man began to writhe in agony. As soon as Gjord realized it was hot oil another of his guard tossed a dagger at one of the women desperately ascending the mosque steps. Before Gjord could reprimand the soldier the man collapsed from no obvious cause. Gjord watched as fellow soldiers looked for injury on the lad and could not get him to rise or show a sign of life. “To ME!” Gjord said again as an enemy with a curved slashing sword ran at him. Gjord blocked high with his dagger and swung his flail upwards toward the foe. The dagger strained under a heavy sword blow but managed to deflect and displace the energy as Gjords flail uppercut the man’s head, scattering it into the night. Alderic was now shuffling to help as best as his injured body allowed. Everywhere he looked there was butchery. Women, children, homes, and livelihoods were all under assault and inflames. He saw crusaders hacking at people in flight. Even the lamenting were targetted, no one was spared. Then, just as he saw another group poised to attack a cornered family, they all vibrated in an eerie dance that ended in their blood being thrown amongst the cornered citizens. Alderic saw the phantoms again within the confusion, they withdrew amidst the fresh corpses. Gjord, now frantically looking from left to right as he climbed the mosque stairs, could see tangible dark figures now battling and slaughtering both garrison and crusading knights. These thin and agile creatures looked like stretched corpses and they moved like chimpanzees, preferring quadrupedal movement to that of the mortals they slew. As Gjord, Alderic, and the surviving retinue crested the steps they saw a pile of gore where the oil pot was cast minutes ago. Within the mess was a ghastly ghoul gnawing on rib bones. “A phantom!” Gjord cried as he started swinging his flail. Now, more man than ethereal, more flesh than air, and not in the slightest bit timid, the beast looked at them and snarled as it slowly descended into the blood at its heels. Its long sharp claws were the last of it to be seen as it disappeared with human remains in tow, again into seemingly impervious masonry. “The city has cursed itself?” Alderic said as he peered through his helmet’s tiny eye slit at the bloody man-made precipice. “This war has cursed us all...