Uprising-Knights’ Perspective

“Disgusting! All of you, each and every one of you are no better than moldy, rotting rat droppings! Much like those rebels!” called out the prince to his knights. The knights looked away or, did not react at all.

“Sire…”started First Knight Calborn, “The men are giving their all and talk like this is not productive.”

“Is that so?” squawked the prince, “No, my talking will go on and I will command you and your knights, or my name isn’t Prince Malkor!” The prince motioned to a servant to reset the training dummies, while almost simultaneously guzzling more than a few gulps of wine. He burped. “Form your lines men, and do it right this time!” Calborn motioned at the men to reset.

The wooden training dummies were set up again, each a man’s height. The knights stood in four single file lines, swords ready to strike. Not one knight dared look anywhere other than at their enemy.

“Attack!” shouted the prince, while taking yet another celebratory drink of wine.

The knights charged ahead, as they passed the training dummies each delivered a single strike to their enemies, that being a shoulder slash, gut slash, sweeping cut to the leg, a cut to the arm, and the last man slashed at the neck. The training dummies were now off center or on the ground. As per the prince’s instructions the knights came to attention and waited.

“Wrong, again!” Barked Malkor.

“Prince Malkor, what was wrong with-” Calborn asked, before being interrupted.

“Silence! Do it again, like I asked you to!” The dummies were put into place once again and the knights, looked to Calborn for an explanation. The First Knight could only give a sympathetic nod.

“Attack!” shouted the prince, who then finished his wine and called for another bottle.

Each knight rushed at the training dummies and attacked, just as before. The men stood still and waited instructions. The prince sneered at them and motioned for them to do it again. Calborn grew tense and eyed the prince without blinking.

“Confound it, Prince! You asked us to attack once and in order, and we have done that!” Prince Malkor was startled but stared at the First Knight.

“You dare contradict my orders?”

“Yes, what more can we do?! We attacked once like you said!” The prince finished his second bottle of wine and tossed the bottle at a servant’s feet.

“I did not!” said Malkor. “I said, that each knight must deliver his attack twice! If that is too complicated a subject for the knights then-” Calborn ground his teeth.

“You only said to do it once!” Both men took a step closer to each other.

“I most certainly did not and anyone who dares contradict their prince, will spend a fortnight shoveling swine dung! Off with you!” the prince made a condescending gesture, “We have other knights! You men simply will not do! Be gone!” Calborn eyed the prince coldly.

“We most certainly will not, and I am going to the king with this.” First Knight Calborn motioned at the men to join him. Malkor looked at the group leaving and laughed.

“Sure, run to the king. Get him to fight for you!” The prince playfully took a knight’s sword and frolicked around, mockingly. “Look, I’m a knight!” He gave a few playful, awkward swings with the sword. “I can only hit once and can’t count to two!” He gave three different sword slashes.

“You might not want to play with that,” started Calborn. But Malkor only eyed him like he would a whining child. The prince spun in circles, still waving the sword around, this time more vigorously.

“We are the knights! Only we know how to fight!” The prince then laughed at his one “joke” and turned to Calborn triumphantly, and raised his nose in the air. It was at this moment that the prince lost his footing and stumbled forward, the sword plunged deeply into his own neck. Screams went out.

Calborn was shocked but knew that only one thing could be done. The knight gave his men and the servants there an order, “GET THE KING!”

Both knights and servants charged for the castle interior, while Calborn and one other knight secured Malkor’s lifeless body to a training dummy with some rope.

Malkor’s body was currently lifeless, for the time being at least. Both men eyed the prince coldly.

“King Alazar!” called the knights from just outside the throne room. “Come quick!” The king motioned to the guards to allow the knights and now servants, into the throne room.

“What is the matter?” asked Alazar.

“It is your son, he has fallen.” The king’s mouth drooped open and his eyes bulged. The king then abruptly made way for the exit.

Outside, the king observed the deceased prince, and a significant amount of blood on the ground. The king’s mouth fell and his hands began to shake. In spite of his feelings however, the king would only address First Knight Calborn.

“What happened here?” asked Alazar. Calborn hesitated.

“There was a disagreement and he, the prince took a sword then fell on it.” Alazar scanned the ground and found the bloodied weapon, along with two empty bottles of wine. He turned to Calborn, while wearing a red face.

“This is your fault! If only you so-called knights could follow simple instructions!” The king paced angrily and paused on occasion only to stare at the knights. “You honorless dogs, you! Each of you are no better than those tax evading rebels who dare occupy my land!”

Prince Malkor let out a guttural grunt and everyone backed away.

“You are responsible for this!” The king pointed at his now zombie, son. “At dawn, each of you and every able-bodied man will march for the rebels camp and inform them that they will pay my taxes like any civilized person would do or they will die! At your blades, each rebel will taste death, join the damned as a zombie, and then be slain! So be it!”

King Alazar waved them off. The knights knew that when the king said ‘so be it’, his decision was final.

Everyone began to prepare for war. Before leaving however, Calborn brought out a spare plate helmet and moved to place it on Malkor’s zombie head.

“Don’t touch him!” barked the king. “You incompetent fools have done enough already!”