North America / Kingdom of Yorkania (Northern Coast): December 30th, 1517.
It was an ugly day for the world. The sea was grey, the sand was black with wetness, and the ships on the horizon carried crosses like knives pretending to be prayers.
(Galahad's POV)
The catholic fleet came with discipline.
That was the first thing galahad noticed.
They did not sail like pirates.
They sailed like men who had been told god was watching and believed that made their hands clean.
Rows of ships drifted closer to the northern coast. White sails. Red crosses. Silent decks. Soldiers packed so tightly aboard them that the sea itself looked diseased.
The waves rolled beneath them.
Slow.
Heavy.
As if even the ocean disliked carrying them.
Morgan stood on the ridge above the beach in black and gold armor.
Her white high headress holding her hair up like sleeping serpents.
The wind pulled at her black and gold cloak.
Her face did not move.
Her eyes did.
"Pretty." Said morgan calmly.
The soldiers around her were silent.
Percival swallowed.
Merlin stood beside her with his hands behind his back and a look on his face that told galahad the old alchemist was either thinking very deeply or pretending not to be irritated by the smell of salt.
John's shadows were already gone.
Not visible.
Not heard.
Not even felt.
But galahad knew they were there.
Somewhere beneath the dunes.
Somewhere behind the rocks.
Somewhere close enough to slit a throat before a man could finish praying.
Galahad stepped forward and said calmly "Your majesty. Their first landing force numbers perhaps thirty thousand."
"Only thirty thousand. How considerate. Rome sent appetizers." Said morgan calmly.
The soldiers nearby did not laugh.
They were too tense.
Too young.
Too aware that thirty thousand men were still thirty thousand men even when morgan insulted them into sounding edible.
Below the ridge, yorkanian soldiers lay hidden behind black sand ridges, wet nets, broken driftwood and shallow trenches covered by reeds. Archers waited behind the dunes with bowstrings wrapped in wax cloth to protect them from the sea air. Cannon crews crouched behind cliff stone, hands already blackened with powder.
No one moved.
Not yet.
Morgan raised her left hand slightly.
Every yorkanian officer on the ridge stiffened.
"Hold." Said morgan calmly with her left arm still behind her back.
The first boats touched shore.
*CRUNCH*
Catholic soldiers stepped out with shields raised.
Boots sank into wet sand.
Armor clanked.
More boats followed.
Then more.
Then more.
A priest in red and white robes stood near the front, holding a cross high enough for even the gulls to be annoyed by it.
"IN THE NAME OF GOD AND HIS HOLINESS, LAY DOWN YOUR WEAPONS." Said the priest at the top of his lungs with bulging veins on his forehead and bloodshot eyes.
The beach went silent.
Morgan stared down at him and looked at galahad and asked calmly "Did he speak to me."
"Yes your majesty." Said galahad with a nod.
"How unfortunate." Said morgan calmly with a uncaring tone.
The priest's vein bulged even more and shouted again "THIS BARBARIC KINGDOM CALLED YORKANIA SHALL BE CLEANSED IN THE NAME OF OUR LORD AND SAVIOR, GOD."
The wind passed through the ridge.
Morgan did not blink.
"He speaks like a man whose mother mistook volume for intelligence. Maybe she dod not provide enough milk." Said morgan calmly with very entertained eyes.
Percival lowered his eyes as if trying not to react.
Merlin's mouth twitched slightly.
The catholic front line began advancing.
Shields forward.
Spears lowered.
Crosses painted on wood and steel.
The priest continued walking behind them with his cross raised and said loudly with a bible in the other hand "FORWARD. GOD WALKS WITH US."
Morgan raised one finger.
A horn blew.
*BWOOOOOM*
The sand beneath the first line of catholic soldiers collapsed.
*BOOOOM*
Men screamed as hidden pits swallowed boots, legs, shields and pride.
Some fell waist deep.
Some vanished up to their shoulders.
Some were dragged down by the weight of their own armor and the panic of the men behind them stepping over their backs.
The second line stumbled into the first.
The third line pushed forward without knowing why the front had stopped.
The beach became a mess of shouting men and sinking formation.
Yorkanian archers rose from behind the dunes.
*SHK* *SHK* *SHK*
Arrows flew.
The first line broke.
The priest's eyes widened.
"SHIELDS." Said a catholic captain roaring loudly.
The shields lifted too late.
Arrows struck wood.
Armor.
Throats.
Faces.
*THK*
*SPURT*
*THUMP*
A catholic soldier fell into one of the pits with three arrows sticking from his neck.
Another tried to pull his commander free from the sand only to take an arrow through the hand.
Morgan raised a second finger.
From the cliffs, black iron barrels rolled down toward the beach.
The catholic soldiers looked up too late.
*BOOM* *BOOM* *BOOM*
The barrels burst open.
Oil spilled across the sand.
Dark.
Thick.
Hungry.
A single flaming arrow flew.
*FWOOSH*
The beach became fire.
Men screamed.
Shields dropped.
Horses on the ships cried in panic.
Smoke crawled across the wet sand and into the lungs of men who had crossed the sea believing the world would kneel because their sails wore crosses.
The priest stumbled backward.
Morgan watched without blinking and asked calmly "Tell me, merlin."
"Yes your majesty." Said merlin while glancing at her.
"Does holy flesh burn differently." Asked morgan calm and Immediately.
The ridge went silent.
Merlin adjusted his throat and said calmly "No your majesty."
"How disappointing. I expected rome to have at least one useful distinction between the rest of us normal folk. Luckily I'm materialistic." Said morgan calmly.
The fire spread around the broken pits.
Catholic officers shouted orders.
Some men tried to push forward.
Others tried to retreat.
The boats behind them kept unloading more soldiers because no one had yet understood the shape of the trap.
Galahad looked at the field.
Not with fear.
With measurement.
The catholic soldiers were disciplined.
Still dangerous.
Their front had broken, but their middle was reforming.
Their captains were shouting them back into lines.
Rome had sent trained men.
Not fools.
Morgan saw it to with herr eyes narrowed very slightly and said calmly "Galahad."
Galahad drew his sword while saying calmly "Yes your majesty."
*SHSK*
"Take their front. Leave some alive. I want fear to have legs." Said morgan calmly with a wave of her left hand.
Galahad bowed.
Then moved.
He did not run like a man.
He crossed the battlefield like judgment had grown armor.
Yorkanian soldiers surged behind him.
Black armor.
Gold trim.
Wet boots.
Cold eyes.
*CLANG*
*BOOM*
*SPLAT*
The first catholic soldier swung at galahad with bloodshot eyes.
Galahad leaned aside and split the man's helmet down the middle.
*CRACK*
The body dropped.
*Boom*
Another came.
Then another.
Then ten.
It did not matter.
Galahad's sword moved like black weather.
A spear came for his ribs.
He caught the shaft with his left hand and snapped it.
*CRACK*
The soldier's eyes widened.
Galahad drove his sword through the man's chest and kicked him backward into two others.
*BOOM*
The yorkanian line hit the catholic front.
The beach exploded into metal.
Screams.
Fire.
Mud.
Blood.
A catholic knight rushed forward with a two handed blade.
Galahad turned, let the blade pass, and struck the man's knee from the side.
*CRUNCH*
The knight collapsed screaming.
Galahad did not finish him.
Fear needed legs.
But sometimes one leg was enough.
Behind galahad, yorkanian soldiers pushed in wedges, just as morgan had ordered. Not one massive wave. Teeth. Small groups that bit into the Catholic formation and pulled back before being swallowed.
From the ridge, morgan watched.
Her eyes moved constantly.
Left.
Right.
Ships.
Boats.
Fire.
Wind.
Tide.
Captains.
Cowards.
Possibilities.
"Percival." Said morgan calmly while looking slightly at him.
Percival stepped forward quickly "Yes your majesty."
"Write." Said morgan Immediately.
Percival blinked and asked with confusion "Now."
Morgan slowly looked at him.
The ridge went silent around them.
"Yes. History is happening. Try not to let your hand embarrass it by asking unnecessary questions." Said morgan calmly with squinted eyes.
Percival pulled parchment from his cloak with trembling speed.
Morgan looked down at the burning beach and said calmly "On the thirtieth day of december, Rome landed on yorkanian sand and discovered that prayers burn poorly when wet."
Percival wrote quickly.
Merlin's mouth twitched.
Morgan continued watching the beach while saying calmly "Add that the first catholic line displayed excellent commitment to entering the ground before death. Very eager men. Poor sense of direction."
Percival hesitated.
Morgan glanced at him and he wrote it.
The priest tried to rally his men.
His robe was stained with wet sand and smoke.
"FOR GOD." Said the priest screaming at the top of his lungs.
Morgan looked at one of the nearby cannon crews and said calmly "Answer him."
The cannon captain swallowed and bowed while saying with a glare at the crew "Fire."
*BOOOOOOM*
The cannon fired.
The priest vanished into red mist and cloth.
The cross he had been holding spun through the air and landed point first into the sand.
The catholic line broke.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But enough.
A silence passed over the beach for only a breath.
The kind of silence that happens when men realize the person shouting holiness a moment ago had become weather.
The screaming returned.
A catholic captain raised his sword and roared at the top of his lungs "HOLD THE LINE. HOLD THE LINE YOU FUCKING INGRATES."
Galahad saw him.
So did Morgan.
"Good lungs. Remove the owner." Said morgan calmly while leaning foward slightly against the ridge with her armored hands gripping it tightly.
John appeared behind the captain like night deciding to stand upright.
The captain froze.
A blade kissed his throat.
*SHK*
Blood poured down the front of his armor.
John vanished again before the body hit the sand.
*THUMP*
The catholic center shuddered.
Morgan lifted her hand again.
Two white flags rose from behind the cliffs.
Not surrender.
Signal.
From the far left, yorkanian cavalry poured down through a hidden path between black rocks.
Their horses wore dark cloth over their bodies.
Their hooves struck the wet sand.
*THUD* *THUD* *THUD*
The catholic flank turned too late.
The cavalry hit them.
*BOOOOM*
Men flew.
Shields shattered.
One catholic banner fell into the fire and curled black.
A young Yorkanian soldier near morgan said with w whisper "Hail…"
Morgan heard him.
Without looking back, she said calmly, "Do not whisper victory before it is finished. That is how idiots invite corrections and that is how history repeats itself."
"Yes your majesty." Said the soldier while standing straight and very upright with a stiff looking neck.
Below, galahad pushed deeper.
A catholic soldier drove a dagger into his side.
*SHK*
The blade did not sink far enough.
Galahad looked down at the dagger and right at the man.
The soldier paled.
Galahad headbutted him.
*CRACK*
The man dropped like a sack of meat.
Galahad pulled the dagger free and threw it into another soldier's throat.
*SPLAT*
The catholic front began running toward the boats.
Some fell in the pits.
Some burned.
Some threw down shields.
Some tried to swim.
The sea did not care.
Morgan raised her sword toward the ships and said calmly with bloodshot eyes and her voice raised high in pitch "Push them back to the water. Let the sea decide if it still has appetite."
"HAIL. HAIL. HAIL." Said the soldiers roaring at the top of their lungs in unison.
The beach shook beneath their charge.
The ships began pulling back.
Not all.
The larger ones remained.
Watching.
Waiting.
A second wave was still aboard.
Morgan saw it.
Charles was not there, but galahad wondered what the habsburg man would think if he saw this.
Would he be impressed.
Concerned.
Amused.
Nothing at all.
"Merlin." Said morgan calmly and suddenly from out of nowhere.
"Yes your majesty." Said merlin with closed eyes.
"Is the water moving strangely." Asked morgan with squinted eyes.
Merlin looked toward the waves.
The sea rolled normally.
Grey.
Foaming.
Hungry.
"No your majesty." Said merlin calmly.
"Good. I dislike sharing battlefields with dramatic seafood." Said morgan calmly while looking back toward the battlefield.
Merlin sighed.
On the beach, galahad grabbed a catholic standard bearer by the face and slammed him into the sand.
*BOOM*
He looked back toward the ridge.
Morgan stood there like a black and gold blade planted into the world.
She raised two fingers.
Stop pursuit.
Galahad saw it.
Galahad lifted his sword and said loudly with spit flying from his mouth "HALT."
Yorkanian soldiers stopped in practiced lines.
Some catholic soldiers continued crawling toward the sea.
Some begged.
Some prayed.
Some bled too much to do either properly.
Morgan descended from the ridge slowly.
Percival followed.
Merlin followed.
Two guards tried to step ahead of her.
She glanced at them.
They stepped back.
She walked down the smoking beach as if the corpses had been arranged for her inspection.
A catholic soldier, barely older than nineteen, crawled backward when she approached.
His leg was burned.
His eyes were wet.
"Please." Said the soldier weak and hoarsely.
Morgan looked down at him and asked calmly "Do you speak Yorkanian."
The soldier trembled and nodded while saying "A little."
"Good. Then learn quickly." Said morgan calmly while looking around at the surviving catholic men.
Morgan spread her arms and said with her voice raised high in pitch "You came here to cleanse yorkania."
The wounded men stared.
The prisoners stared.
The yorkanians stared.
Morgan's cloak moved in the smoke and wind and she said with her voice still raised high in pitch "And yet here you are, lying in its sand, bleeding into its water, breathing because I have not found your deaths useful yet."
The beach was silent except for fire and groans.
Morgan looked at galahad and gestured while saying calmly "Count the living. Bind them. Separate officers from foot soldiers. Priests are not to be killed and also raid the ships for dollar and supplies, leave nothing and they included the ships themselves."
Galahad bowed while "Yes your majesty."
"Your reign will be most promising my strong and mighty queen" Thought galahad with his eyes closing subtly.
A yorkanian soldier looked confused.
Morgan saw it and said calmly with a wave of her hand "Do not make that face in my presence. Remove your existence at once."
The soldier stiffened and said Immediately "Forgive me your majesty."
"You wonder why priests live." Said morgan calmly while glancing at him.
The soldier lowered his head.
Morgan looked back at the ships pulling away and said calmly "Because dead priests become martyrs. Living priests become witnesses. Rome has enough saints. I prefer liabilities."
The soldiers went silent.
Percival wrote without being told.
Morgan looked at him and said calmly with a very unmoved look on her face "Good. You are still learning."
Percival's face tightened with something like pride and shame fighting itself.
A wounded priest near the sand lifted his head and spat loudly "GOD WILL JUDGE YOU BARBARIANS."
Morgan stared down at him and said calmly "Tell him to take a number."
The priest's face twisted.
"And while he waits, tell him yorkania is closed to foreign management." Said morgan while leaning down slightly closer.
The priest shook with rage.
Morgan straightened and looked toward the horizon.
The catholic ships were retreating from the first landing.
Not defeated.
Not gone.
But wounded.
Embarrassed.
Educated.
For the first time since the ships had arrived, the men of rome looked afraid.
Galahad stood beside her, sword red and armor smoking faintly from the heat of the beach.
"What next, your majesty." Asked galahad calmly with a serious look on his cold face.
Morgan stared at the ships for a long moment while saying calmly "Now they learn the difference between landing and staying."
The wind moved.
The fire cracked.
The sea carried bodies back and forth like it was deciding which ones to keep.
Morgan turned away from the water and said calmly with her left hand thumping against galahad's chest plates armor "Prepare the second line. Repair the pits. Move archers north. Feed the prisoners enough to talk and not enough to become grateful. Send one priest back alive with his tongue intact."
Percival looked up and asked with a serious look on his face "With a message."
Morgan's eyes stayed on the ships for a moment and said calmly "Yes."
The beach was silent.
"Tell rome the first prayer was answered." Said morgan calmly.
The soldiers around her went silent.
Morgan's eyes turned colder while saying as she licked her lips slowly "Yorkania said no."
…
THE END…