About two miles from town, I heard a twig snap in the woods about two hundred yards out. Erik perked up, but I thought nothing of it. Moments later an arrow smashed against my shoulder plate, almost knocking me out of the saddle. I quickly dismounted and whistled quickly. Erik ran for cover as I drew my swords. Michael knew what this meant and took to the skies to look for my prey. Taking a knee to regain my breath, I looked for a sign of my foe. I knew my armor would protect me. Until he finds a weakness anyway. Hearing a branch snap to my right, I side step just in time to dodge another arrow, which lodged itself inside the tree behind me. Drawing Vult from the sheath, I look to the skies. Dropping in a hurried frenzy is Michael, who had found my foe. I plunge deep into the forest, only to find Michael latched on the to the archers face. I swung my swords low, cutting his knees open as I whistled for Michael to return to my shoulder. Removing his mask, I was confronted by a man unknown to me. I crossed my swords in front of his throat, poised to end him via decapitation. "Who are you?!" I demand rather horsely. His only response was, "Down with the King! Down with the Tyrant!". He followed this blasphemy with a spit of blood in my direction. I would not let this insult to my honor stand. I sharply moved my blades, removing the head of the traitor. "Deus Vult."(God's Will), is all I proclaimed at this hardly significant event. I returned to the road, Erik, and Charlemagne. I remounted and continued my short journey to the city, shaken but unmoved by this violence.
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Azrael
Historical FictionIn alternate world, where cars and guns were never created, we follow one man and his adventures.