The Reformation Wars: Countdown to Catastrophe

Chapter 10

As dawn broke the next morning, Manfred galloped with the 20 other knights in Tom Holt's cavalry unit, accompanied by Kelly the former knight killer. Under his mare's rumbling hooves, the terrain transitioned from Monterayne's fertile plains to a forested maze of evergreens and low brush characteristic of the foothills they so swiftly approached. Dark clouds parted overhead, allowing the rising sun to shine through and highlight plumes of smoke climbing from a burning garrison. Manfred's heart sunk upon observing a flame here and there erupting on the outskirts of the adjoining town, the place he'd grown up, and where his family still resided.

Despite Manfred's increased motivation to pick up the pace and speed uphill to his hometown, the thickening forest insisted otherwise. He and the others slowed to a canter in order to maneuver more safely, though Tom Holt kept an impressive lead on everybody else. He and his mount wove through the labyrinth of trees and hoof-snatching vines with experienced mastery any knight would envy, and none more than Manfred.

Soon enough, Manfred found himself having fallen behind with the less experienced horsemen in the group, that number including Nathan, Kelly, and a trio of knights of wildly varying dispositions who yet shared the same determination in progressing through the demanding terrain. Manfred clutched the spear in his hand tightly while occasionally ducking his head to avoid smacking it on a low branch.

The experienced riders continued gaining distance on Manfred and his peers, but to be fair, Tom had explicitly stated upon setting out that he intended for the men to use their instincts and stick to their individual strengths instead of relying on organized formations and coordinated attacks. Personally, Manfred found himself contemplating whether or not that would mean dismounting upon engagement, as his riding skills were questionable enough even without throwing combat into the mix.

As the mind-numbing task of swerving through the forest dragged on, Manfred's thoughts swirled around the idea that his parents could currently be fighting off the Garuntan pillagers and rogue knights creeping in on the town. The idea of it manifested as a bitter weight in his stomach. He pressed on.

Soon enough, Manfred and his comrades emerged from the forest and worked back into a gallop in the short clearing around the town. Given the south gate's close proximity to the demolished garrison and the ravenous flames devouring it, they made the same decision Tom and his peers had made and strode alongside until they reached the north gates.

Manfred's grip on his spear managed to tighten as he burst through the open gateway and into the chaotic cluster of activity that was his hometown. All around were grinning Garuntan tribesmen, messy-haired and olive-skinned savages who dashed to and fro setting buildings on fire and doing harm to the mostly defenseless townspeople. One such pillager lunged at Manfred's horse with a crude dagger in hand, but he miscalculated the distance and found himself trampled under hooves instead.

The difficulty presented to Manfred was no lack of options in who to engage, but rather the overabundance thereof. When his gaze alit on a wiry Garuntan chasing down a wailing old man, his target had been set. Manfred galloped over and thrusted his spear into the savage's back.

Manfred continued on, with Nathan and Kelly apparently having decided to follow him. As they progressed through the town, they took out Garuntans left and right. Here and there, a rogue knight attempted opposing them, but given the fact they only ever used swords, Manfred and his companions easily took the men out with their reach advantage.

But eventually, Manfred's spear penetrated too far into a pillager's sternum, and his horse raced by too quickly to retrieve it. With a sigh, he reached for his longsword and unsheathed that. Seeing his trajectory passed close by his father's house, Manfred veered over to it and hopped over the fence.