Lord DuPraye sat on the back of his blood-thirsty mount, rudimentary missiles exploding about him. “Destroy them,” he commanded. Anger consumed him. They were all incompetent! King Alfred and his men should have been defeated and killed by now. He fumed at the delay. His army was twice as powerful as these weak Luthanians. Furious with his generals, he had dispersed several of them with his sword and appointed new leaders, finally deciding he would have to decimate the Luthanians himself.

He watched his soldiers charge against the smaller group of Luthanians he managed to cut off. Victory will finally be mine. Before this day is over, I will see the blood of the Luthanian king spill into the ground. He cannot defeat me.

His thoughts were interrupted upon the sight of the Luthanians resi...

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