Once More Into The Fray…

The bright morning sun of early spring lent little warmth to the day, for which we were all thankful. For all too soon we would be in the heat of battle. We had been preparing for this day all winter; it was to be the first event of the season.
We rose before the sun, to make ready for that day. “Coffee, where’s my coffee.” I could not function properly without that black, bitter liquid coursing through my veins. From the looks of things, I wasn’t the only one Felix, our unit leader and head armor-smith, held the worn and battered coffee mug he had been using for years. His hard, calloused hands were gripped firmly around the brim, as he stared fixedly at the coffee pot cursing quietly under his breath about early mornings.
Finally, with coffee in hand, we set out after one last check to make sure we had everything we would need for the day. That black ribbon of highway stretching out before us, the blur of city buildings slipping past gave way to the fertile farmland of the country. Fog-filled mountain valleys glimpsed from a distance gave host to a thousand images of days gone by The imagined sound of battle rang in my ears; soon we would don the archaic vestments of war.
As we pulled into the parking space, we could see the battlefield Breathless, with narrowing vision as if lost in time, the armies of The West Kingdom lay before us. The mid-morning sun’s brilliance reflecting in a hundred polished helms leaped and sparked like electric current, the sweet smells of leather and steel filled the air. The clash of the first charge reached our ears before we even had time to unload our gear. Rushing before we could miss much else, we dressed. The purple and black of our sir-coats naming us; The Order of The Incensed Panther had arrived.
As we approach the field, The Prince of Cynagua, Lord of Swans, greets us Now it is time for Felix to make the deal; shall we once again fight for this Prince, who has always been fair and just in his dealings? Some moments pass, and we become restless; we wish to be at the act of war, for one side or the other – we came to fight not talk.
The sound of battle rings loud in our ears; real now, not imagined. From where I stand I can see the line of two shield walls that have faced off The enemy’s center is weakening; a charge there would send his forces running; scattered like ants in a flood. Apparently Duke Fabian, commander of the western force, is not ready for this; he calls his men back. The Prince and our leader have finished their negotiations; we shall once again be fighting for The Lord of Swans. We have been assigned to the Royal Guard for this engagement, and it will be our task to roll the enemy flank.
We are on the line now. I can see across the top of my shield into the eyes of the enemy; I must be ready when the charge is called. I have chosen my target, and now I wait, my breath coming short with excitement as scattered shouts fill the air, “Hold the line!” “Steady on the right!” Then it comes like fire and ice, all at once, the charge is called, and once more into the fray…