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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

Lord Jason prepares for an assault on a resting army, but soon finds out that his forces at disadvantageously outnumbered.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - AYTHERIUS Beginnings

Submitted: June 16, 2017

Reads: 277

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Submitted: June 16, 2017



Lord Jason was at his castle, soon to ride out to war. Jason carried a closed helmet with full plate armor. He wielded a greatsword and dagger. It was a wet morning and he had only hours to prepare a strikeforce to hit an army's camp. It was only morning, but the enemy's forces numbered in the hundreds, and Jason could only bring about thirty men undetected. His objective was to take out several lieutenants that waited there at the camp.

"My lord, are you sure we are ready?" A veteran-at-arms looked at Jason with uncertainty while gathering his equipment.

Jason pressed his plate armor into place. "Aye. We ride out soon. Climb upon your horses, men!"

His group of thirty or so men-at-arms readied and rode alongside Jason.


The afternoon had a misty drizzle. The group gathered on the crest of the hill and peeked down. If it were not for the information given, this would almost look like a very talented village in the works of processing itself into a rudimentary castle. Stakes were being built all around the encampment. There was even an expert blacksmith on standby to repair any broken equipment. A kitchen had tables and a tarp roof with plenty of metalware utensils. Kegs of ale, mead, cider and other drinks appeared in the encampment. There were men seated at the tables enjoying themselves and socializing. Some men were practicing their swordsmanship with small duels. Archers and crossbowmen were practicing their shots at the quickly constructed range. Quite good shots, and well made bolts, quarrels, arrows along with bows and crossbows made them deadeye shots. Tents were placed down, but it appears that makeshift wood huts were being constructed to withstand more dangerous environmental dangers. The very borders of the camp were lined with stone bricks. It could be that this encampment would be a permanent fortification in case the enemy army was in need of a place to retreat to.

Jason took a deep breath and scanned the horizon for any other possible threats. Orders were given on the dew of the grass. He knew that if this strike had failed, there would be no turning back or retreating, the enemy would have his head should he surrender. He had to succeed, and live while doing so. Fifthteen soldiers were given orders to begin an assault in the entrance. The remainder of the force were to release arrows, throw torches, roll rocks, and toss flaming pitch pots down into the encampment and cause mass confusion. All of the men knew that they could die, but if they survived, they would be paid with a second home in the castle and a farmland suitable for when they retire.

Jason waved his hand at the appointed captain of the entry attack to initiate the beginning of the attack. Jason stared nonchalantly at the quick dispatch of the guards at the entrance. To his surprise, they were all killed swiftly and silently without alarming the camp. "You four, you're up," Jason states and points four pot throwers to the supply wagon. Four men went off in the direction of the supply wagon. Jason watched several shadows move about in the wagon's presence, with the driver being de-horsed from the wagon. He smirked and awaited the camp to catch ablaze.


Meanwhile, the men fighting at the front gracefully pushed their way into the camp, all disguised as the enemy army. Jason took note of this when he saw a familiar face donning the enemy's banners. The captain of the vanguard made his way through to the lieutenant's camps and convinced a few of them to join in a drink.

"Name's Wilfred. What 'bout you lots?" The lieutenant in red spoke. Wilfred was at five feet and seven inches, wearing chainmail with a half red and white tabard and a golden lion on it. Wilfred had an odd sensation about him which seemed charismatic. He carried a well shaven chin with rough eyebrows. His face dirtied from working a bit in the field. He carried an arming sword and mace at his waist, along with a round shield on his back.

"Lieutenant Wilfred, I'm Greene." Greene stared at Wilfred, shaking slightly as he knew that he was to quickly dispatch him in a manner where the alarms would not be rang. Wilfred's personal guards were lieutenants themselves, but appeared to be much more taller and physically stronger.

"Ah, Greene. You've been told 'bout the plans regarding tomorrow, ya?" Wilfred kicked back and begun biting down on a peach.

"Um, no sir. I haven't. Could you go over it with me again?" Greene glanced at his weapons, then at the bodyguards and lastly Wilfred. A drop of sweat peered down his face.

"Fine, since you fools can't remember a thing for shit. Tell your camp mates about it too since they forgot-" Wilfred was interrupted.

"Lieutenant Wilfred! We have infiltrators in our camp! Bring them forward." A guard pulled three of Jason's men into the large tent.

"Wonderful. I will deal with them personally. Dismissed." Wilfred waved his hand at the guard as to usher him out. Wilfred drew his sword and walked up to the first soldier. He thrusts the sword into the soldier's leg, whips it out in a swift manner and guts him with a slash to the stomach. The soldier slumped onto the ground and groaned.

"You. Tell me who did this." Wilfred held his sword up to the throat of the second veteran-at-arms.

"Fuck-" The second man had the blade penetrate into his throat through the other side.

"Wrong answer." Wilfred watches the two corpses with discontempt. His lieutenant guards all were uneasy around the execution. Greene watched the two men of his force killed.

"Lieutenant, do you think this is unusually cruel?" Greene retorted with some disdain.

"Why, you have feelings for the enemies now?" Wilfred looked back at Greene while his sword remained pointed at the third man's eyes.

"No, but-" Greene started, only to be interrupted by Wilfred.

"Kill him." Greene looked at Wilfred with dismay just to see that he was stabbed in the back by several spears. Greene slumped out of his stool onto the cold grass. Wilfred looked at the third man and jabbed both of his eyes out before finishing him off with a thrust to the groin. The other lieutenants withdrew their spears from Greene's corpse.

"I know who would operate such a poorly planned sabotage." Wilfred wiped his bloodied sword on the gutted man's gambeson.



Seven men were seen running out of the camp, and then being caught by bear traps deployed by the enemy army. Jason watched the routing deserts get killed off by arrows or traps. The horrors of traps appeared when one man was running through the forest, just to trip on a rope with two logs crushing him in between like two pendulums.

"Damn it. Auxiliaries, this rainy weather was poor decision on me. The camp hasn't caught ablaze and only stopped upon entry from the stones, only the supply wagon burned. You see there?" Jason pointed at a column of tents lined up perfectly straight. "Their living quarters are in rows and columns for a rather tight and efficient walk way." The archers and other auxiliaries of the leftover company were already distraught from losing half their forces. Jason couldn't think of any newer strategies to use against a well entrenched camp.

A patrol of the opposing army quickly marched up the hill. The rest of the forces were terrified. Two men got up and ran back down the crest of the hill. Screams were heard below on their side. Jason looked down and saw glistening spikes and bear traps in the dewy grass. It wasn't long until the rest of the forces dispersed off in every direction, and only several men remained with Lord Jason. Jason got off of the ground and drew his greatsword in one sweep and cleaved a crossbow man shoulder down, that attempted crossing over the crest. The few remainder drew their weapons and clashed with the patrol. They were outnumbered three to one.

"Lord Jason, you must escape!" A knight wearing a sallet looked back at Jason for a moment, just to look back at a sword being slammed into his face. A second knight went up and begun beating in the swordsman's face.

"My lord, we will cover for you, you must go!" He beat in the man-at-arm's face to a red bloody pulp. Javelins flew up the hill hitting friendly and enemy targets alike. Arrows rained like hail upon the hill. It seemed that the camp was finally fully alerted.  The remaining men fought to the death. One of the enemy lieutenants joined in the fight and slammed a warhammer into the temple of Jason's crossbow man. Clashes and screams were heard, and Jason's forces were extremely unsuccessful in defeating an amount equal to the opposition. The remainder of the knights were killed off by several spears, warhammers, maces, morningstars and flails. Unlike the last remaining men fighting, one last man routed along with Jason.

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