The Fallen Ascending 01 -- Rebirth
The Flaming Lion of Gondor

As a huge marble ball rolled mercilessly deep in the earth, crushing everything in its path, a large shimmering portal opened in the city of West Gondor, at the School of Learning. Taking the combined efforts of a dozen master class wizards on this side, and an unknown number on the other side, a rift wide enough for a dozen horses to pass through at once was opened to the Royal Academy, at the palace city.

The first to ride through was a tall knight in shining silver armor, helm tucked under his left arm, regally sitting astride a massive war-steed of the finest breeding. Red hair flickered in the wind behind him, and two naked male slaves carrying banners of a flaming lion’s head quickly darted out to march by either side. A whisper immediately went up amongst the crowd. Imperial. Majestic. The Royal Lion of Gondar had descended to save them all!

“Who’s in charge here?” The man roared in a clear, precise voice that carried the length of the school grounds.

A young, naked female slave ran up and quickly prostrated herself before him. “The High Lady Estella Stargazer presides over the school here, My Lord. The Lord Allister Silverton is the mayor over the town. Perhaps one of them would be whom The Great Lord seeks?”

“Have them both here in the half-mark, or else they’ll be whipped.” Growling, the knight hopped off his horse and walked over towards the nearest picnic tables. “Who here can give me a status report?! Come, speak up!” Dozens of knights in full plate armor were beginning to emerge from the portal in tight military formation and looking prepared for anything. Blades were drawn, lances were held at ready, and every tenth horse held a wizard or priest who was prepared to unleash whatever magics were necessary.

A young, rough looking boy, dressed in rags and stained in dirt rushed forward. “I’z tell ya what’s a happenin! I be Sammy!”

One of the school guards, reacting quickly, grabbed the young man by the scruff of the hair and yanked him back, knocking him to the ground. “Know your place, street brat! You shouldn’t even be here!” Snarling, he half spat on the boy, starting to drag him back into the crowd.

“STOP!” The knight in the silver armor commanded in a voice that brooked no argument. “Sir Liam!”

One of the knights at the front of the pack spurred his war-steed and rode forward. Taking his helm from his head, he tucked it under his left arm and bowed his head slightly. “My Lord Commander?”

“Take that man and have him lashed. Should he have strength enough to lift him arms in the morning, I shall be displeased.” Turning to stare directly at the knight before him, the commander’s eyes were full of cold steel. “A free citizen of our land answered my call and sought to bring me valuable intel on our opponents. That man stopped them. Whether he be spy, or a fool, I know and care not. Teach him the error of his ways.”

“My Lord.” Sir Liam nodded respectfully, and then placed his helm back upon his head. “Sir Tristam! Sir Evans! Sir Williams! Take that man into custody!” The three knights which he’d pointed to quickly dismounted and strode over to where the guard and the boy still stood. The crowd parted quickly to clear the way.

“Wait a minute.” Letting go of the boy, the guard began to back up slowly, holding both hands high in the air. “I’m not spy! I was just making certain that beggar-brat didn’t try to harm the prince! I was merely doing my job.”

Unrelenting, the three knights stomped forward, heavy metal boots crushing the grass underneath them. As it looked as if the guardsman might suddenly panic and run, Sir Evans lumbered forward several quick steps and slammed a gauntleted fist into his face. Blood flew and the guard staggered and swayed. Sir Tristam closed the distance and slammed his metal fist into the guard’s gut. As he staggered and fell, Sir William strode purposefully forward and launched a solid kick upside the guard’s head with a heavy metal boot.

Glancing down, Sir Tristam nodded and the other two knights picked the unconscious guardsman up and held his limb body under the arms. “Prisoner acquired, Sir!” Sir Tristam snapped his heels together and saluted Sir Liam, who simply nodded in return.

Gazing around for a moment, Sir Liam finally nodded back at Sir Tristam. “Find a cell for the fool, have him questioned, and then – if he’s not a spy for our unknown enemy – have him lashed a dozen times and both arms broken. If The Lion needs the protection of a piss-ant, we’re all doomed. Make certain he learns his lesson.”

“Thy will be done, My Lord.” Sir Tristam bowed slightly – full plate armor not allowing for the sweeping curtsies that one could perform in court dress – and then nodded to the two others beside him. Together, all three dragged the unconscious guardsman off towards the nearest building. If the school didn’t have a cell, they’d find something suitable. They had their orders.

Sir Liam pulled his helmet off once again, and rubbed his hand through his short white hair. Showing obvious signs of age, he nevertheless held himself sure and straight. He may have a few years behind him already, but there were several years of strong fight left in him yet! Trying to smile as gently as his battle haggard old face would allow, Sir Liam slowly walked and held a hand out towards the young man. “Young Freeman Samuel, I believe you called yourself?”

“Nevah did no such thing!” Brushing aside the older knights hand, Sammy got up and stared defiantly in his eyes. “I be Sammy. Not whatevah ta ’eck ya said! Nevers claimed to be naught but Sammy, neither!”

Blinking once, surprised by the spark the young man still exhibited after being roughed up by one of the guards, Sir Liam finally laughed lightly. “My apologies, Sammy. It seems these old ears of mine caused me to misheard, and this old tongue misspoke.” Bowing lightly, Sir Liam hung his head for a moment in apology.

Rising back up, he nodded once again, respectfully. “I understand you have some information for Our Lord? Do you need a healer first? A drink? Or a meal?”

“Don’t need no healer. I’ve had me hair tugged harder ’an that by me baby sister!” Proudly, Sammy puffed out his chest to show that he was fine. “But I’ll take all them meals and drinks that ya got to spare! If’n I get extra, I’ll take ’em home to my family.”

“Sir Thomas!” Not even bothering to look around, the old knight yelled and soon another younger knight in battle-ready plate stormed forward and kneeled beside him.

“My Lord?”

“Have all the food and drink this young man can carry prepared. Escort him home with it and make certain that any who would try to deny it him, or take it from him, with have the wrath of the Order of the Lion’s Crown upon them.”

“It shall be done!” Rising with a swift salute, Sir Thomas turned and began yelling orders at some of the school guards standing nearby.

Sammy half laughed, watching it all. “Ya all a bunch of lazy bastards, ain’t ya! Each one of ya pass off the chores ta someone else! Must be nice!”

“HA!” Instead of taking offense, Sir Liam barked a half laugh in return. “Does it seem that way to you, young Sammy?” It was nice to hear honesty from time to time. Honest opinions help keep the hearts that respect them honest as well – it was one of Sir Liam’s core beliefs.

“What else wouldja call it?” Shrugging, Sammy just smiled. “Fancy Pants tells ya something. Ya tell someone else. They tells someone else. If’n Fancy Pants just did it ’imself ta start with, there wouldn’t need to be a ’ole lot of chickens running round with no head!”

“AhHahahaha!” Laughing freely, Sir Liam just smiled and finally held out his hand – which Sammy just ignored again. Smiling ever more broadly, Sir Liam finally motioned back over towards his commander, who was currently busy studying maps and papers laid out across the top of a picnic table.

“Hey Fancy Pants!” Striding over to the young knight, Sammy walked up, spat in his hand and then held it out. “I be Sammy. Whatcha want to know? I tell ya everything!”

Blinking, and then looking around for a moment, puzzlement obvious on his face, the young red-haired knight raised an eyebrow in question towards Sir Liam. “The young man who you were going to interview, My Lord,” Sir Liam explained, grinning slightly.

Nodding, the young commander turned his attention back towards Sammy. “So what can you tell me about these invaders?”

“Not a damn thing!” Snorting stubbornly, Sammy waved his hand up and down a few times to emphasis its placement. “Man can’t even shake ya hand, whatcha want ta tell ’im anything fer?”

Raising his eyebrow again at Sir Liam, the corners of the young commander’s lips twitched up and down slightly. “Spunky one, he is, My Lord,” Sir Liam observed. “I may just take me a squire soon.”

“At your age?” The young commander laughed lightly and then finally reached and took Sammy’s hand in his own. “Crown Prince Leonard el’Gondor, the Flaming Lion, at your service. Now then, good Sammy, what can you tell me about these invaders?”

“Damndest invaders I’z evah ’eard about!” Sammy declared boldly. “Send one pretty miss ta ride up ta the gates and ask ta be let in. Mayor All-Slime tells ’em ta bugger off, and they turn round and just make camp outside like he told ’em too! Ain’t raped nor pillaged a single soul so far, as I ’ear! Just stole some food from ta farmer’s, but I can’t say I blames ’em fer that! They’z gotta eats too! Ya gets hungry, ya don’t care whose food it is. Ya just want it in ya belly!”

“So these invaders haven’t actually attacked anyone, asked ransom, or made demands?” Lord Leonard rubbed his chin lightly and stared thoughtfully off towards the city walls. “And how many are there, do you know?”

“I dunno,” Sammy shrugged slightly. “More ’en me fingers and toes. Prolly bout as many outside as ya see in the marketplace on a busy mornin.”

Nodding slightly, the young commander turned his attention to the older knight beside him. “West Gondor market would probably hold between six hundred and two thousand people, wouldn’t you say, Sir Liam?”

“That sounds like a reasonable estimate, My Lord,” Sir Liam agreed.

“The city should have more than enough defenders to deal with such a threat,” Lord Leonard mused. “Just why the hell were we sent for, in such a panicked state? Has anyone even tried to parlay with these invaders yet?”

“Nope! Haven’t even tried ta talk ta them either,” Sammy offered helpfully. “Just told ’em ‘shoo shoo’ and then left ’em outside ta rot.”

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