Holden Cross stood tall among the peasants anxiously waiting for him to bring the axe of justice down on the neck of the man who was on his knees held by the knights of his Vanguard. Although Holden was six and half feet tall, the poleaxe towered over him at least another two feet and its gold plate and red jewels glimmered in the sunlight. His armor was stale and without color contrary to his weapon. Blades, hammers and axes had covered the steel in dents and blemishes. The face of a lion scowled on each of his shoulder plates.

The crowd had grown restless and began to shout obscenities at the man wanted for treason. Holden raised his hand and a silence fell over the potential mob. Sheep, all of them, he thought.

"People of Ashfeld! Let this be a warning to those among us who wish to bring harm and chaos to our kingdom! This man, guilty of high treason, acted as messenger to the enemy. We are a peace with the Vikings. We are at peace with the samurai. These enemies are among us."

The became uneasy once again, looking left and right wondering who else may be plotting against them. Holden raised his hand once again.

"But we are a merciful people, not savages." He looked at the man awaiting his death. "Traitor, this is your chance to profess your sins and ask for mercy. If you refuse, let those words be your last."

"Yes, mercy! I beg for mercy! I am a traitor and see my wrongdoing in the faces of my brothers and sisters!" The crowd began to boo wildly and drown the man's words from being heard.

This time Holden raised the poleaxe far above his head: "Quiet!" Deafening silence succumbed the crowd. His attention brought back to the prisoner.

"Why should the people of Ashfeld grant you mercy?"

The man's eyes widened, "I have information! Names! Locations! Numbers!"

Thump!

An arrow now protruded ten inches from the prisoner's forehead, his eyes wide and mouth agape. The crowd stood in shock. Holden glanced the tree line at the end of the village when another arrow pierced the weak point of his armor between the shoulder and breast plate causing him to stagger back.

"Ambush!"

The peasants panicked as arrows began whiz over their heads toward the execution stage. Holden and his fellow knights scattered and jumped from the stage, taking cover wherever they could. Holden hid behind the village well as another knight slid next to him. He glanced in every direction to assess the situation of his Vanguard. I hope we're not surrounded.

"My Lord, you've been hit!" Braun, the knight next to him tried to address the arrow in his shoulder but he pushed his hands away. Instead, he snapped the stem of the arrow and threw it to the ground. My men will not see me in pain.

Holden grabbed the knight by the shoulder. "Braun, we need to close the distance on those archers! Tell the others on my command!"

"Yes, my Lord!" Braun turned around and with a burst of speed darted for the next pair of knights pinned down in cover. Holden watched him as a steel bolt impacted the knight's neck, severing his spine. Braun was dead before the limp steel of his body slammed against the ground.

"Crossbow..." Holden whispered to himself. Deus vult, Braun.

"My Lord!" A peasant called to him from behind a grain barrel. "The trees, Sir! They're up in the trees!"

Holden risked his head from the side of the barrel, quickly glancing into the tree line. He's right. Bows and crossbows trained left to right across the open courtyard of the country village. He and his Vanguard were at a significant tactical disadvantage and the only ideas he had left were bad ideas.

Holden closed his eyes and with a deep breath, he ensured that his helm was snug to his head. He leaped from the safety of the well and began to sprint through the open kill zone, the point of his poleaxe charging forward towards the enemy. "For Ashfeld!"

The knights watched their commander run wildly into the heat of arrows as sparks deflected from his armor. Inspired by his battle cry, the knights charged from their positions screaming with all their lungs.

The Lawbringer ran to the nearest target, a young tree holding two well camouflaged archers. He was upon them before they could effectively react. With all his might, he impaled the trunk of the tree with the spear at the end of his poleaxe. The shear impact rocked the branches of the tree and the archers held on with all their strength for fear of having to meet Holden Cross on the ground.

"Ad mortem, inimicus!" Like a machine, as if his muscles could not yield, he began to push the tree from its foundations. Roots and dirt uplifted from the ground and the tree timbered into the hard earth with the archers still in its branches. One heard his femur snap cleanly into two pieces while the other suffered almost no injury. The uninjured archer crawled for his dagger among the fallen branches but it was too late. Holden left his axe impaling the tree trunk to grab the man by the head and lifted him to his feet. In one swift movement, the archers face met the armored kneecap of the Lawbringer, shattering his skull and allowing his brains to spill onto Holden's gigantic hands. The dead body fell to the feet of the non-ambulatory archer, inciting fear like he had never felt before. Holden did not pity the man with the broken leg as he tried to crawl away. He took his time to pull the axe from the tree and walked behind the crawling archer. Holden weighed the axe in his hands, ignoring the searing pain in his shoulder. No superstes. The blade of the axe swung high over his head into the archer's shoulder blades, killing him instantly.

Breathing heavily, Holden ripped the axe out of the man's back. The orange and black decoration of the archer's cloak puzzled him. He quickly scanned the battle. His knights had done exactly what he knew they would do: follow him into the fight. Once his Vanguard had closed the gap, the enemy archers were useless. They had no problems cutting them down from their positions, but some managed to escape back into the woods. The armor of fallen knights shined in the dying light of the sunset.

The pain in Holden's shoulder was almost incapacitating. He knew he couldn't swing his poleaxe effectively with one arm and he was relieved that the skirmish was over. A knight ran to him in urgency.

"My Lord, are you well?"

"Yes, do not worry about me, Lemus. How many knights have fallen?" Holden replied.

The knight was no longer looking at his commander's injury, but instead, at the uprooted tree laying across the ground with a large hole in its trunk.

"Lemus, I asked you a question," Holden said to break the knights spell of awe.

"Uh, my Lord, five have fallen, deus vult..." Lemus uttered.

"They will not be dishonored. Prepare their bodies."

"Yes, my Lord. Also, there is one man left. He has climbed very high in a tree and will not come down even though we have surrounded him.

Holden and the knight met with the rest of the Vanguard surrounding a large tree. The other knights made way for to approach the base of the tree. The archers bow and quill lay scattered on the ground. Holden removed his helm and wiped his bald head with a cloth. He called to the archer.

"Soldier! Come down and we will spare your life!"

"Liar!" the archer replied.

Holden looked around at his fellow knights then up the tree again. "Fine. If I cannot question you on the ground, we can do it like this. Who are you?"

"I do not need a name for I am a Soldier of the Black Legion!"

Of course, that explains the orange and black. Someone is coming. Someone wants this land.

"Thank you Soldier of the Black Legion, that is all I needed." Holden Cross turned and began to walk back into the village.

"My Lord! What of the prisoner?" Lemus asked.

Holden stopped to give it a thought. "Burn the tree. He'll come down eventually."