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Short stories: Medieval tales

Black Jungle, the name of the forest that was nearby a vast plain, seemed to be the only place for retreat after the slaughter from the enemies who did not seem like savages at all. Their facial features had ruled out any possibility of them being a foreign force. Words uttered by them were heard and understood. They were from Redshire. The plain was a perfect spot for a chivalry attack, but these domestic enemies were not convincing of that they were infantry or chivalry of any kind. However, the assailment was fatal for the unprepared soldiers.

The king died in Henry's arms with blood leaking from his eyes, nostrils, ears, right before the surprised attack emerged. It was not a delight sight for anyone, especially for his own son. Despite the death of his father, he drew his sword and fought. Hopeless, it seemed, no formation was made when the attack had begun, and some were even unarmored and forced to fight in fabric clothing. The result was predictable.

Loyal soldiers stayed on and strived hard to protect the king's body and Henry. Some fled into the forest where its density would make a further pursue harder. Yelling and screams in pain could be heard as one plunged his weapen into the flesh of the other.

Henry, striking an enemy soldier to the ground as his sword bashed against the enemy's shield, undid his helmet and gripped his hair. He gazed fiercely into the eyes of the subdued soldier.

"Where are you from?" The prince shouted with wrath, knowing that he understood the language.

The soldier resisted and protested with a curse. "Death to you and your lineage. Redshire doesn't need you." The man responded with a hoarse voice, sensing the proximity of his death. Henry stabbed his throat and twisted as he turned furious at his comment. He pulled out the sword; blood dripping at the tip of it. He panicked and looked around. This was his first kill.

A friendly came to Henry and warned him to leave at once into the forest with him as a rear-guard. Arrows arched in the air, landing near them. At this point, hesitation would bring further trouble. He looked at his father's body and all the sweet memories and benevolence of the king flashed swiftly in his head.

"Father, I will revenge your death. Forgive me for leaving your body behind." Henry whispered, taking the ruby ring on his dead father's finger and kissing him for the last time. He retreated.

Learn more about this author, Curtis George.
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