It came out of nowhere.
Matthew heard the shriek and the explosions that began to echo throughout the air. The castle shook as shockwaves rushed through like an earthquake. Some of the nobles he was meeting with stumbled and fell to the floor.
His crow was chirping uncontrollably. Something was definitely wrong.
Matthew, regaining his balance, looked at King Thomas. Another shockwave sent them flying back on the floor. Matthew, landing on his stomach, started crawling for the door. Regaining his stance, he burst through the door. Flashes of light seemed to occasionally brighten the stained glass as he ran. The crow gave a complaining kaw as his cage jangled around.
"I know, I know," Matthew muttered, not allowing down. He could hear multiple foot stomps behind him. It appeared he wasn't the only.one trying to see what was going on.
Finally, reaching a door to the outside, Matthew threw the doors open. Reaching the end of the balcony, his eyes widened in horror as his worst fears were confirmed.
Fireballs streaked the blue sky, striking the buildings below. Pillars of smoke could be seen everywhere. Matthew could see men scrambling at the castle wall, preparing trebuchets and defenses to ward off against the flaming heralds of destruction. While none of the fireballs were hitting anything within the main city, the suburbs and villages outside were facing the utter apocalypse.
Looking out to the ocean, massive ships of metal were spewing the mortars with no remorse, the blazing sea wall behind them. The naval defense couldn't have lasted long against such terrifying firepower. It was among the best the world had ever seen. Matthew couldn't tell how many ships were, but they were all reaping hell on the kingdom.
Matthew looked behind him as he heard a noise. Thomas and other nobles had also arrived and watched the chaos in front of them. Thomas walked forward and breathed slowly. He looked as if he was witnessing a nightmare had come true.
"Do you think it's them," Thomas asked, somberly.
"Who else could it be," Matthew replied.
"I want as many people within the city walls as we can fit," Thomas spoke out loud to those near him.
He turned to some of the guards and added, "I want the recall horn sounded immediately and trebuchets going off. Let's see if we can draw some fire away."
As people began to scramble, Matthew watched as fireballs continued to strike the markets below. He pulled his cage from his side and unlocked the cage door. The crow seemed to recognize that it was needed. It bounced around for a second, giddy for a mission.
"Give me eyes," Matthew ordered. The bird moved to the edge of the cage door, and jumped out, spreading its wings and flew out towards the ships.
"Matthew," King Thomas called, to which Matthew turned around. "I need you at the gatehouse making sure our men are good."
"We need to have that white flag ready, your highness," Matthew murmured.
"No," the king replied. "We need to take as many of them down as we can. Do not put that flag up unless I say otherwise."
Matthew reluctantly nodded and jumped down from the balcony, which wasn't too high off the ground to land on. Rolling back on his feet, he whistled for his horse near the stable. The brown stallion rushed out of the wooden hut and rushed toward Matthew. Swinging himself on, Matthew ushered the horse through the city.
The explosions continued on the other side. Columns of smoke and ash pierced the sky, which itself was turning darker. Matthew did everything possible to avoid trampling the swarms of people rushing into the city. He finally reached the gatehouse and dismounted. Climbing up the stairs, he stumbled as shockwaves shook the wall. Finding his footing, he finally reached the top of the wall.
He saw nothing but chaos outside: mortars continued to strike the homes and buildings outside the castle. Screaming and burning seemed to echo through the apocalyptic atmosphere. Looking beyond the sea, Matthew's heart sank as his worst fears were confirmed.
It was them. Why were they here?
"Where are the others," Matthew yelled.
"They're gone," Brandon yelled back from below. "We're the only ones left!"
Matthew bit his lip in frustration. They were losing too many soldiers. If they kept going, the Empire would slaughter them all. He finally could see the crow flying back to him. Landing on his shoulder, the bird gave a heartless coo. There were too many of them.
Matthew nodded, thanking the bird. He rushed toward a trunk and pulled a white flag. He began to unfurl the flag.
"Matthew, stop," a voice called. Thomas had rode up to the gatehouse and was watching everything. "We can still fight!"
"We need to stop the barrage," Matthew yelled back. "They're too strong!"
Thomas dismounted and went for the stone stairs. Matthew tried to wave the flag so the ships could see and potentially stop firing. It wasn't very effective as the shockwaves sent gusts of wind into the flag.
He finally found the spear of a fallen warrior and tied the flag on. It did a much better job of being visible as it waved. Matthew started screaming random noises to try and get the ships' attention.
"Are you mad," Thomas yelled, storming toward Matthew in fury. Matthew's crow started squawking, calling for attention. As the two looked out, they noticed the ships, little by little stopped their firing. The chaos of noise was slowly smothered by silence. The ships had stopped firing, now hovering in tense silence.
A massive horn blared from the massive ship. They acknowledged the white flag. Matthew sighed in relief and lowered his flag. The fighting was done for now.
Thomas and Matthew watched in hesitation as the ships stood silent. The king wasn't sure whether to be furious or thankful at the moment. The sage had disobeyed his command, but it may have actually helped them.
Suddenly, the front of the massive ship started to open up like the mouth of a shark. Metallic grinding of chains and gears rattled the atmosphere as a large ramp extended onto the cobblestone street. Blood-curdling howls and chants echoed from the mouth.
Four riders left the ship and thundered over. Archers readied to fire, but the riders stopped short of their range.
"Send an emissary forward to negotiate terms of containment and surrender," one of the riders, a non-armored messenger announced.
Matthew looked to Thomas, who nodded.
"Do we have a knight here," the troubled king called.
"I'm here," Brandon replied.
"Good man, let's head out," the king responded, giving Matthew a fearful look of disappointment. Too much could go wrong here.
A little later, Matthew, the king, and Sir Brandon were lined up in front of the gatehouse on their horses and waited for the mighty doors to open. As they did, the three and two additional guards rode out and stopped in front of the group.
There was about five of them. The messenger was accompanied by an armored knight and three soldiers with crossbows and swords. While the knight was already wearing his visor, the rest had black masks with red outlines over their eyes and the Empire's seal on their foreheads.
"The Empire is grateful for your cooperation," the messenger announced to the group. "We are here to discuss-"
"Of course, Merzog would send an emissary out," Brandon brashly spat. "He would rather watch the bloodshed than partake in it!"
Matthew shot him a stern look. When Brandon noticed his mistake, he shrunk back, a little red.
"Childish slander will not be tolerated here, knight," the messenger continued. "For the sake of your kingdom, I suggest you hold back such talk."
As the messenger continued with his message, Matthew began to notice the knight was very bored-looking. The knight was probably the leader of the group and, to be frank, probably new. The knight seemed to realize he was being watched and stared back.
Something then moved behind the knight. Was it a piece of ash, was it something else, maybe?
No. It was someone.
Matthew tried to get as many details as he could without alerting the enemy knight. He could see two people hiding in some of the wreckage. How the enemy missed them had to involve a miraculous explanation.
One of the figures, a young man, seemed to be a foreigner, Matthew couldn't quite tell where he was from. He definitely wasn't from New Haven. The other, a young woman, cloaked in a robe, probably to hide her identity, but Matthew recognized a crystal a large, blue jewel in the robed figure's headband.
Matthew did his best to hide his surprise as he recognized the robed figure. It wasn't just a young woman.
It was Princess Emily.
"Enough," the knight suddenly ordered, lifting his hand up. Matthew froze. If the knight noticed his reaction, they were all going to be in trouble. The knight tensely was now tensely watching Matthew, trying to find out what he saw.
"Are you impatient with the customs of negotiation, knight," Thomas asked, causing the knight to look away. Matthew felt relieved for now.
"I don't believe in wasting time with fake pleasantries, your highness," the knight replied, hissing the last words. He must have given up his quest to follow Matthew. "The truth is that we hate you and you hate us. Why should we paint such a pleasant face about it? Let's take it for what it is at face value."
"You must be arrogant to speak to a king that way, knight," Matthew asked, a little bit of edge entering his voice. This knight had insulted and mocked this exchange long enough.
"Yes," the knight replied, "one king to another."
The statement seemed to unsettle the group as the knight reached for his helmet. The tyrant himself was here, they had realized. Merzog had created a violent aura about him as his empire grew: beheadings of leaders, entire villages plundered and burned, this man had killed more than a normal person would in his lifetime. Matthew wasn't bothered by this, however. He had dealt with his kind before.
But, as the group discovered, the knight wasn't Merzog. Matthew's heart sank as he realized he was dealing with someone much more volatile.
Young, strong-backed, and much more cruel than his father, Skriven always had a knack of disrupting tradition and disrespecting custom.
"So," King Thomas observed, "the king dies, you take over, and your first action is to attack an innocent kingdom. You really are your father's son."
"Shut up, hag," Skriven yelled. "You thought you chained us to a rock when my father signed that pact, but that no longer applies since he's dead. I am finishing what should have been finished a long time ago."
"Then finish it," Brandon yelled, drawing his sword and pointing it at the cruel monarch. "I'd rather die than surrender to such scum!"
The men around Skriven pulled out their crossbows, already loaded and ready to kill. Brandon froze as he realized his brash action. Thomas slapped the sword down.
"Put away your sword," he hissed. "There's been enough stupidity for today."
Skriven scoffed as if he heard a joke. He raised his hand and his men lowered their weapons. He looked at the red-faced Brandon in the eyes.
"I don't want you to surrender, knight," Skriven quietly replied to him, a small smile forming. "I want you to break."
Brandon's eyes narrowed with hatred.
"Your highness," Skriven spoke louder to the group, "it seems your kingdom lacks the piety and respect for the most feared nation on the planet."
He suddenly unsheathed his jagged blade and pointed it at Brandon, who lifted his back up to prevent an attack.
"I think I'll start with your young punk here and then gut the rest of you like little fish," Skriven hissed.
"You will have nothing if you follow your father's ways, Merzog," Thomas replied. "Nevertheless, we are not here to make things worse. We raised a white flag and I know you at least honor such things."
Skriven bit his lip as he reconsidered. He then lowered his sword, logic winning the day. Sheathing the weapon, he narrowed his eyes and gravely replied, "While I am not a fan of tradition, I recognize it is what keeps this world from erupting into oblivion.
"So, let's negotiate, Tom. I don't want anything from your kingdom, no riches, no wives, nothing will stop me from ransacking your parasite of a kingdom. In three days, your doom will come to pass as more of my military arrives here."
"This was an advance party," Brandon muttered.
"Trolls, siege equipment, and much more are sailing their way here as we speak," Skriven continued, ignoring Brandon. "I suggest you use this time to call for help, pray to every god you have, and settle your debts in this life. You're going to need all the time you can get."
The New Haven party silently acknowledged. Any conflicting response would agitate the young leader and the loss of life would be far more grievous.
"Let's move," Skriven definitively growled to his men. "We're done here."
His men hooted and laughed as they turned around with him and rode back to the ships, still menacingly hovering in the harbor.
The distraction over, Matthew focused on the princess and the foreigner again. They were in some panic. Emily looked like she was hyperventilating, witnessing a nightmare unfold. The PTSD must be kicking in again. The foreigner was doing his best to help her, despite being panicked himself.
With the immediate threat now gone, Matthew dismounted and rushed over to Emily and the foreigner. He tried to pick up some of the wreckage, but his older body struggled to find strength.
"Help the man, come on," he heard Thomas order. Brandon and King Thomas rushed over to Matthew's sides and moved the wreckage. They could now see Emily and the foreigner, who was coaching Emily's breathing. Matthew looked to both of his party members. Brandon was not thrilled at what he was seeing.
"By the Gods," Thomas reacted, surprised. "Princess, are you alright?"
Emily had difficulty expressing herself, but she nodded. Matthew realized her trauma was kicking into full gear.
Matthew had known about Emily's encounter with a black knight fifteen years ago. The scar on her back hid the true pains that were tearing her apart both emotionally and mentally. She lost her mother, she lost her home, but, maybe even more terrifying, she was losing herself.
After everything that has happened today, Matthew feared, this was a response everyone was going to have.