Clip-clop, clip-clop...
Clip-clop, clip-clop...
Outside the city, dust billowed as a troop of cavalrymen in silver armor approached at a slow pace, bearing flags aloft. The fluttering banners depicted three golden scepters symbolizing health, wealth, and death, signifying the authority of the Church of the Three Fates.
This was a contingent from the Knights' Order stationed in Gori City, comprising 1500 men, subordinate to the Wexford Diocese. At the very front, an elder dressed in a white priestly robe with a golden bishop's mitre and a blue stole, the scepter of health emblazoned on his chest, rode atop a black charger, gazing down at New Ross City from a hillock.
"Albert."
Hearing the call of the elder, a middle-aged man who wore no helmet and whose attire somewhat differed from that of the other knights rode forth. "I am here, Bishop Fole."
"Take 100 men with me into the city; the rest shall encamp outside. Without orders, they are not to enter the city."
"As you command."
