King Caballar looked appalled and confused at Talon’s words. “But my good King Christopher,” he said, “I have sent no such assassin to kill you!”
“Come now, you cannot expect me to believe such words.” He rolled his eyes. “We interrogated your assassin, and he revealed the truth to us.”
The king of Fusong had a blank expression on his face and his eyes looked a little glazed over.
This guy’s a good actor.
“I have no assassins in my employ, good king. Do you think that little of me?” King Caballar replied, bowing deep.
“Nonsense! We found proof! This cloth is from your own royal collection, is it not?” Christopher shot back, brandishing the cloth the assassin had left behind in front of him.
King Caballar squinted at the fabric. “No, good king, I do not believe it is. Though the color is true, the weave of the fabric is not.”
Christopher was the one to look astonished this time. He readied a reply but never got to say it.
“Dispense with this foolishness!” Talon spat. “Do you accept our terms or not, King of Fusong?”
The enemy king glared at them, fire in his eyes where confusion once lay. “Nay, we will not accept those conditions,” he said boldly, looking snooty and regal. “We will, however, accept your surrender if you immediately withdraw your armies, make a formal apology to my people for your erroneous claim, and surrender your relic, the Scimitar of Jheriem, immediately into my hands.”
Talon’s arm reared backward and his jaw clenched. For a moment Christopher thought he was going to back-hand the enemy king, so he held him at bay.
“I don’t think that’s gonna happen,” Talon snarled. “Not as long as I still have this!” He pulled a shiny metal object from his belt and turned it on. It was his glow-sword, an ancient relic weapon made of pure energy. It gave off a pale blue light and a slight hum as he held it in his hands.
Even with all the bravery King Caballar had mustered, he still could not repress his shudder at the deadly, otherworldly weapon. The energy weapon’s blade was razor-thin, and it was fabled it could slice through anything, even Sigmonium, with ease. Only three were known to still exist, and no one knew who held them. Until today.
“This baby will frighten off half your army, single-handed. Do you really want to fight this war still, old man?” There was a sneer in his voice as he practically hissed the last words.
“I am not threatened by such pathetic weapons, not while I hold the Sword of Power. I may not be able to unlock all of its power, but even so it is far mightier than your glow-sword. And, no, I do not want to fight this war, but you leave me no choice,” King Caballar replied, bowing again.
“Enough of this senseless bickering!” Christopher shouted, placing himself between the two men. “Are you then not going to surrender to our superior might and skill?”
Caballar balked. "Of course not, fool king. I thought even you could have guessed that by now."
The young king shook his head and raised his weapon to the sky. "Then let the games begin!" he yelled loud enough for all to hear.
It was an old saying, one supposedly used by the Tytins themselves, whose original meaning was lost to time, but generally meant ‘let’s rumble’ nowadays. Then both teams returned to their forces.
* * * * * * * * * *
Talon rushed over to Coontan’s main assault force to prepare them.
All these years and I still don’t know what to say to soldiers that will most likely die, he thought calmly, shrugging. He was good at war, but not at comfort or inspiration.
The king was close on his heels, looking lost in thought.
A strange noise and a flash of light from behind them grabbed his attention. “Damn! He's teleported back to the castle!” Talon exclaimed, looking behind them.
Christopher’s eyes narrowed. “How can you be certain?”
"Fusong has a teleporter, sire, and King Caballar is no longer here. He must have used it.”
The young king’s face took on a grim expression. “This act of cowardice angers me even more. I swear to the gods not one of his troops will leave this field with life left in them!”
Talon was slightly impressed by the bravado, but knew it was time to bring the focus back to the battle. “Shall we call forth the archers and mages, sire?” General Talon asked.
"No.” Christopher shook his head. “I have a different plan in mind.”
“Oh?” Talon did a double-take. “Do tell.”
“We are going to use an ancient strategy called the 'Water Buffalo.’ Are you familiar with it?"
Talon thought for a long moment. “I think so, my liege. Is that the one where we shape our army into the head of a buffalo and surround the enemy to out-flank them?”
"Why, yes it is.”
“I’ve heard of it, Sire, but I’m surprised you have. I didn’t know you were such a strategist.”
Christopher waved a hand dismissively. “Don't ask me how I thought of it, but it should help us win. Put the archers and the spear-men in the horns, swordsmen at the front of the bull, cavalry in the back.”
Talon balked. “But sire, surely their movements will be seen and the largely unprotected archers will be picked off with ease before they get into position.”
“That’s why I had them move out before sunrise. They should be in position by now.” The king’s eyes glinted in the morning light.
Talon grinned back at him. "Very devious, Sire. I love it!" He clapped his hands together. “I’ll inform the rest of the troops of the plan right away.” He turned to leave, but one more thought struck him. “And what shall we do with the mages, Your Highness? Surely we cannot leave them idle.”
A look of disgust filled the king’s eyes, but he shook his head again. “No, I suppose not. We shall use
