King's Farewell

[Constantine]

Kay knew they would lose this battle immediately as the enemy army assembled on the other side of the field. They had reinforcements Imperatrix did not account for. And Perdan's side was missing many of its allied troop commanders. It was too late to fall back though and so this battle had to be fought.

And thus the king's fate manifested on that day. His men fought like lions and true lions they were. A company after a company overwhelmed and wiped out by the unending hordes of enemies. The king was wounded, his blood trickled down his steel plate eventually being consumed by Perdanese sacred soil. It drank so much blood already and still it was not full.

Kay counted the banners slowly approaching his position. Their faces were all blurred. An army of ghosts. A host of revenants or automatons. No matter how many of them defenders of Perdan would kill, they always promptly reassembled and came back again. For years and years. They did not care. Like they were not real people, but an ancient curse, mindless, merciless, unrelenting. A curse haunting him for his ancestors' sins. One you can not plead with. One that would just suffocate you slowly and silently like a withering disease.
"I did not choose this" he thought to himself. He was losing blood and it was hard to think straight.

They started the retreat too late. His bodyguards found themselves the last men standing on the hilltop. Kay saw almost a thousand men training their bows and crossbows on it. "This time even Shadowdale showed up" he thought to himself. Then: a cacophony of snaps followed by a chilling sound of a thousand projectiles traversing the sky. Bumps of large round shields forming a carapace over his head. Thuds of countless arrows piercing wood, metal, soil, flesh. Sharp screams of pain. Sounds of heavy hoofs and boots closing in.

His twelve remaining men formed a tight defensive formation around him. A devil's dozen against the great northern host.
The archers lowered their weapons. Were the men ordered to capture him alive? Perhaps. The enemy finally engaged. Thirty riders charged head on while two large companies of foot were scaling the hill from the sides. Some nobodies from Sirion and Caligus. But wait, there was a familiar face among the men. Elizabeth the mercenary. The woman who ate at his table and then went on to kill his old friend Emperor Shady and destroy his realm. Now she is back to get his head for her new masters in Sirion.

"May gods forever curse mercenaries. People with no honour and no shame." He thought to himself as his remaining men started falling around him. As he himself reeled from a heavy blow and knelt on the red grass. "What a terrible petty thought to become the final point of my existence. This does not even matter. Does not matter who dealt the final blow. What matters is the way I lived up to this point. I wish there was one man standing, who I could send back with my last words. But alas, none of my men will be spared. And thus my last words must be thought, not spoken. And my last thoughts are with Perdan. With men and women who survive despite all odds. As I die I feel so much pride, so much joy. That I was a part of this great struggle and that I will not be remembered as a bad king. Take heart, you who I have to leave behind! Perdan will stand as long as you do not falter. So do not falter, as I never did. Farewell, my friends. My kinsmen. My beloved children."

His eyes were blinded by gushing blood. But he clearly and vividly saw them all before him. Banetal the wise and Smiddich the jovial pirate. Genteel Ulric and poetic Lucius. Maximus the loyal and Samuel the valiant. Pragmatic Benjamin, dignified Druzil. Mikial the ancient, Bo the chicken peddler. Scarlett and Christopher - the new lions. Lionheart Alyssa and the spirited valkyries flanking her: Isabel, Isana, Dustiria. Joreb.. the good man Kay unreasonably doubted. And many other faces less often seen at the court but no less dear to Kay. They were all smiling at him. But their eyes were sad.
Suddenly the crowd parted and a woman stepped forward. He immediately knew who she was. Rhiannon his long lost love. "My Rhiannon, but I thought you were dead!" the king thought with joy and surprise. She nodded and extended her arms for an embrace. "Yes, we were separated, my love. But not any more. Come. We earned this". He raised his hand to touch her beautfil face. And then the butcher's axe descended and blew out his light.