The Knight and the Peasant [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 17

Salvador glanced back at the outer walls of Grenaserrat City. He could imagine the Evrúopeans scaling the walls, surprising the unprepared defenders. Whatever few there were left after the City Police began their siege of the Hibiscus Keep. The citizens of Grenaserrat screamed as they realized their doom was upon them.

"To the docks!" one of the commoners shouted. "To the docks! We can escape on the ships!"

And just like that, an exodus of peasants began to rush to the docks. Salvador swore colorfully. "How are we going to get to our ship now?"

They attempted to forge forward, but their progress was much too slow. Men, women, and children alike poured into the streets of Grenaserrat, having little regard for each other. They pushed and shoved, kicked and punched each other. Each of them trying to make it to the docks before the other. There were cries of help rising into the air, many of them prayers to the Angel King himself and his servants.

They didn't hear the sound of hooves over the cries of peasants. When they saw the towering knights in full plate armor wielding majestic lances charging through the crowds, it was already too late.

Blood sprayed everywhere as the lances of the Evrúopean lances tore everything in their path. The huge Evrúopean warhorses, steeds that dwarfed all horses in the Caraíbes Isles, trampled people under their hooves. Salvador saw a young man, no older than fifteen, get speared through by a warlance. The Evrúopeans killed indiscriminately, no one escaped their wrath.

"No! Please, God, no!" came a scream. Only one of the hundreds like them. But Him Up Above seemed to turn a deaf ear to their screams and a blind eye to their suffering. The cobbled streets of Grenasserrat were soon soaked slick in the red blood of believers.

Salvador whirled into action; his Sídhe blades danced to that deadly tune once more. He sliced the legs of a giant warhorse and sent both steed and rider tumbling. He rushed to the Evrúopean, whose banner depicted a yellow field charged with a red lion passant. Their armor was well made, better than most in the Caraíbes. It was tinted golden with red patterns, but it was no match for Aes Sídhe steel. Salvador slammed the point of his blade through the eye-slit of the faceplate and heard the results. When he pulled out his sabre, he saw an ever-growing mound of dead bodies around him. Gerard held off two Evrúopeans who had dismounted, both with full plate armor. Salvador's first instinct was to assist him, but he was drawn away by the cries of a woman and a child.

Turning around, he saw a woman in peasant rags next to an empty cart holding her child close to her and praying whilst another Evrúopean knight in full plate stood over her. The knight drew his greatsword―for that was the only word for a sword so large―and raised it over his head.

"No!" Salvador screamed, and he charged. He threw his sabre, it spun through the air, flying past the ear of the child, and. . .

Bounced off the knight's armor.

How? Impossible! Were his first thoughts. Aes Sídhe armor were rarer than their weapon counterparts. Only about fifty sets of Sídhe armor existed in all of the Caraíbes and the Royal Family of Sersalvon possessed seven of them. The only sets in all of Sersalvon. For this Evrúopeans to possess a set of Sídhe plate implied that he was an important figure indeed.

Salvador saw the knight's helm glance up at Salvador before bringing his blade down on the terrified peasants.

Salvador couldn't look.

"NO!" he screamed once more. He gripped his remaining sabre and sprinted towards the knight. The Evrúopean gave a harsh laugh held his greatsword at the ready. He had in position for a parry, but at the last moment, Salvador jumped onto the empty cart with light feet and used the momentum to carry him over the knight's head. He landed lightly on his feet and slashed at the Evrúopeans legs. The sabre just clanged off.