The roaring of the war drums on the battlefield seemed to play a tragic score for the Viscount's charge.
His Riding Spear, an old companion, pointed toward the frenzied enemy. His lone figure stood out on the battlefield.
Henry was slaughtering men by the score, and the rout was undeniable. And yet, the old Viscount had just entered the fray, a magnificent sight to behold!
The Viscount's charge was valiant, but in this brutal war... the strength of one man was insignificant.
His Personal Guard followed close behind, their eyes shining with loyalty to the Viscount and fearlessness in the face of death.
This might be their final battle, but they still chose to fight alongside the Viscount until the very last moment.
'The old master has treated us well for the past ten, twenty years. If we acted like those serfs and common soldiers, would we even be human?'
