The mass of Joras' army charged, running around him on his horse like river water around a rock. The king stood tall on his steed as did Ragnar across the way. The warriors stampeded towards each other, faces lit with determination and bloodlust. Cries of war boomed from each warrior's throat, their voices heralding battle. Finally, the sea of swords and armor clashed with each other, erupting in pangs of steel that shook the Kingdom. Stomachs were pierced, heads rolled and blood painted the battlefield.

Danticus, alongside his platoon of archers, had taken position upon a large, sturdy wooden platform. There, they provided overwatch, stinging the enemy mercenaries with their zipping arrows. The archer next to him, Darius, fired arrow after arrow, hitting the bullseye that lied between the eyes of his every target. His experience and skill was known, and Danticus struggled to participate half as well as he did. For every five arrows Danticus launched, maybe two of them met their target. He grunted loudly, exclaiming his frustration. The archer gave notice.

"Release as you exhale. Breathe in as you notch your next arrow. Aiming for their head is fine, but a shot to the chest is just as sufficient." He let his readied arrow fly on an exhale. It slid between the ribs of an assaulting warrior. He collapsed to the ground, landing on the arrow, which drove it further through his chest. The archer nodded in approval.

Danticus mimicked him to the best of his ability. He let an arrow fly into the side of a rather large, maul toting warrior. He fell to the ground as his arrow tore through his head.

"Damn good shot, lad, keep it up," Darius said. Danticus smiled and repeated the action. He dropped another warrior, then another, then another. He felt his quiver for more arrows and discovered almost none. He cursed, and tore his eyes away from the large, blood soaked battlefield. Along the platform were buckets of oil, bow components and...quivers, yes! He quickly pulled a few arrows from the leather container and loaded them in his own.

"Shit," said Darius. Danticus eyes went to where the archers were. A large, flaming stone hurled through the air, falling towards their platform. It inched closer and closer.

"Quick, go, go, off the platform!" Yelled an archer from down the line. The archer quickly planted his hand on Danticus' chest and pushed him forward from the platform. The stone smashed into the platform, and bits of wood, stone, and men flew outwards. Danticus was only inches from the flaming stone, and the fiery wisps licked and cooked him in his leather and steel. He quickly scrambled backwards and got to his feet, his head ringing like a bell. His bow was snapped in half and fell from his back into the mud below. He cursed, and pulled his dagger from it's sheath.

Next to him, Darius lay face down in the mud. Danticus knelt next to him and shoved two fingers up against his neck. The warrior was alive, though bloody and bruised.

The rock will offer him better protection than any other place on the battlefield...be best to leave him here, the young archer thought to himself.

Danticus stumbled around the side of the stone, the battle scene now in his full view in all its gory glory. The stench of death assaulted his nostrils, broken, lifeless bodies piled upon more. Mud and blood swirled together, and all was swallowed into the ground.

Ragnar's warriors had seeped through the rest of the field, weaving through Jorden's forces. They pushed further and harder through towards the kingdom, like a virus spreading through someones body.

Danticus took a deep breath, let his nerves simmer. He sprinted towards the battle, dagger clenched tight in his hand. A warrior whose back was towards him hacked away at one of Jorden's warriors, the warrior's shield mere splinters. Danticus came up behind him and shoved his dagger into the mercenaries hairy neck. Blood spurted from his wound like a stream, staining Danticus' skin and leather armor. The warrior gurgled blood in his throat and slammed into the slimy ground below.

Danticus sheathed his dagger and picked up the slain mercenaries sword from the muddy ground. The weight felt balanced, but crude. He maneuvered through the ever thinning crowd of warriors. They were close to the kingdom now, inching closer and closer. Joras had rode through the crowd on his grand, white armored horse, trampling Ragnar's soldiers.

Ragnar waited for him in the center of the battlefield upon a hill. His large, double bladed axe was gripped in his hands. His large, fur cloak was gone, and his chest heaved in his armored, leather tunic. A warrior of the Northbound slashed his horse's legs, bringing down the steed and sending Joras rolling on the floor. He stood and brought up Elvenbane, blocking Ragnar's strike.

"I'll gut you like a pig, you bastard!" Shouted Joras.

"That's not very kingly of you," Ragnar retorted.

Joras pushed him off and slashed with his sword, deflected by Ragnar's axe.

Danticus pushed closer and closer to Joras, quick to help him. He spotted a flowing red mantle, his cousin's, Cristomir. He was grappled from behind by a soldier, held in a vulnerable position, with a warrior poised ready to attack. Danticus quickly rushed the enemy, slid on his knees and parried the incoming fatal blow. The mercenary cursed as his kill was robbed of him. Cristomir thrust his head back, and broke his captors nose upon impact, and broke free of his grasp. The ranger wrapped his hands around his attackers head and twisted, breaking his neck.

Danticus kept the assailing mercenary at bay, his sword poised high and out, wary of any incoming attacks.

"Think you can fight with the men, do yah, boy?" The mercenary taunted, accompanying his taunt with a disturbing, bloody smile through his sweat drenched beard.

Danticus didn't respond, but kept his gaze focused and his grip tight.

"I've killed hundreds of men, and I won't hesi-"

A dagger flew into the mercenaries face, ending his speech as well as his life. His body quickly fell to it's knees and then to his back. Cristomir hastily approached the corpse, planted his heel on his forehead, and yanked out his dagger.

"I had him! You needn't do that!" said a disappointed and somewhat frustrated Danticus.

Cristomir rolled his eyes. "Come on, you'll have plenty of other battles to kill those who taunt you. We need to help the king." The cousins pushed forward to their king, dodging sword, arrow and limb.

Joras had spun around Ragnar after his blade attack and kicked him forward. Ragnar stumbled, regained his balance, and struck back with a mighty swing of his axe. Joras dropped to the ground as he dodged the fearful weapon. He stabbed his sword into Ragnar's foot. Ragnar hollered from the pain and dropped his large axe. Joras rose and struck Ragnar's nose, bending it sideways. Ragnar's hand cuddled his broken appendage as his other went for his dagger sheathed on his back. He plucked it out, kneed Joras in the gut, and planted it in his thigh. Joras yelped and fell to his knees. Ragnar lifted his axe from the ground. He smirked and held it above his head.

"No!" Yelled Cristomir.

The ranger plunged his sword clear through Ragnar's calf as he crawled uphill. Ragnar shrieked and spun around quickly, almost losing his balance. The old, battered mercenary kicked Cristomir in the chest, who toppled down the hill, over broken weapons and lifeless bodies. Danticus took advantage of the distraction and brought his sword down. Ragnar swung his forearm up and blocked the edge with his bracer. He punched Danticus' face, placed the blade flat between his palms, and snapped the metal in half. The disgraced king then wrapped his hands around Danticus throat and headbutt him, and tossed him aside. Ragnar limped back over to Joras and slowly withdrew his dagger from the king's thigh. Joras grunted in pain as Ragnar did so. Ragnar brought the bloody blade up to Joras' throat. He looked the king in the eye and smiled.

Danticus quickly drew the dagger the archer Darius gave to him and held the tip of the blade between his fingertips. Ragnar opened his mouth to speak, but the words were stopped in his throat as the dagger flew into his back. Ragnar dropped his curved dagger and fell backwards onto the short blade. It protruded from his chest as he clawed at the burning sensation from the pain. Danticus quickly ran up to the dying former king, intent on finishing the job. He spurted blood from his ashen bearded mouth and panted heavily. Danticus picked up Ragnar's curved dagger and held it up to his throat.

"Tell me, boy...what happens now," Ragnar taunted, staring into Danticus' eyes. "What happens when you slide that blade across my throat? There are things at greater stake here than you can imagine! Do you remain a guard dog for a worn out king? Or do you become a capt-" his words were cut short as Danticus ran the blade across his throat, quick to end the disgraced king's pathetic rant. Blood seeped from the slit as the wide eyed warrior felt his life leave his body. He hoarsely let out a curse and dropped his head back into a pillow of death. Danticus stood and dropped the dagger next to Ragnar, whose skin was now milky and pale. Curses and profanity were heard among the rest of Ragnar's army.

"Gods...retreat, retreat!" Yelled out many warriors among the frenzied crowd. With the loss of their leader and their claims for riches, they ran off, quick to evade the ensuing punishment. Some continued the fight, but were cut down where they stood, but most frantically retreated beyond the hills. Gallador came galloping upon his horse, Ivory, surveying the scene. He spotted Danticus next to Ragnar's corpse and smiled. Edwin quickly ran up next to Joras' and helped him to his feet. The king thanked his squadron leader, and struggled to regain his breath. "I am still alive..." He turned to face Danticus. Fear was fleeing his eyes, though it was apparent battle was something the king had forgotten the taste of.

"Warrior," said Joras, panting as he stood on his injured leg, "I thank you very much for saving my life. That was remarkable what you just did." His breath was unsteady, and he winced at his newly made bruises, cuts and scrapes.

Danticus bowed to his king. "Thank you, my liege. I aim to please...and to make sure my arrows meet their targets."

Joras chuckled, still wincing from the pain in his leg. "A man of battle...and wit."

Gallador trotted up on his horse, followed by Cristomir on foot. The blonde haired ranger dismounted and strode quickly to Joras and Danticus. "My king, it's good to see you still breathing." He shook arms with Joras and then took Danticus in his arms. "And Danticus, it's damn good to know you're alive. Next time, stick a little closer. That's an order."

Danticus smiled and nodded. Joras placed his hand's on Gallador's shoulder. "Thank you Gallador for checking on us. Edwin, see to it that the wounded and dead are accounted for."

Edwin nodded. "Of course."

Joras thanked him. "Gallador, join him please."

Gallador nodded as well. "Yes sir." He and the commander of the Field squadron mounted their horses and rode off to the corpse ridden battlefield. Cristomir waited off in the background, flashing a smile at Danticus. He would speak with him after the king was finished.

"So, Danticus is it?" Joras continued. He was a bit more composed now, and he had finally caught his breath. "Thank you again for giving me another day to reign. I see you're acquainted with Gallador Thornshield. You have friends in high places."

"That I do sir. Gallador has mentored me for years. He's like a father."

"Not many can say that about the Arch Ranger. You should feel honored."

"I do, believe me."

"So, Danticus, what make you of the Ranger Order?"

Danticus chose his words carefully. "They are the most honorable of Jorden, truly heroes throughout the land."

"Well, tell me Danticus...would you make a good ranger?"

Cristomir spoke up from behind them. "He'd make a great ranger. Nobody in the order is just good, my king."

The king chuckled. "Yes, Gallador is to thank for that. Is being a ranger what you desire?"

"More than anything in life," said Danticus, his heart fluttering in his chest.

"Well, young Stormwell, I feel your services would benefit the order immensely. I'll speak with Gallador immediately. Oh, the stories they will tell. The songs they will sing. We will have a feast tonight, Danticus, and you will be my guest of honor. Wear something nice, yeah?"

"I would be honored."

"Good. Now let us head back to the city. No doubt word has spread from our success." Horses were brought to them by one of Joras' squires.

Danticus felt as if he were dreaming. Not in a thousand years could he have imagined what happened in the past hour. He had slain Ragnar Oathbreaker, the most infamous king in all of Jorden's history. He had proven himself not only to Gallador, but to the king as well. He sat upon a horse the king provided and rode back to the great city.

Joras and the army were welcomed by a large crowd of citizens playing music and celebrating the heroes victory. Jenna Thornshield, the daughter of Gallador, awaited her father and Cristomir by the market stalls. Cristomir, accompanied by Danticus and Gallador, dismounted his horse and they embraced.

"Didn't get a chance to see ya this morning." Cristomir smiled.

Jenna playfully slapped his chest. "I'm just glad you're not dead. Are you hurt?"

"Of course not. Well, maybe my pride. Danticus had a few more kills than I," he joked. Jenna laughed and her and Cristomir kissed.

"And how are you, Danticus?" she asked.

"I'm well, thank you."

"You're better than well, ass! Stop the humility! All of this," Cristomir gestured to the large, amassed crowd, cheering upon their arrival, "is all for you! Enjoy it!"

"What happened out there?" Jenna asked eagerly.

"This fool right here somehow slayed the Oathbreaker," said Cristomir, pointing to Danticus, his other arm wrapped around his betrothed. Danticus smiled sheepishly.

"The Oathbreaker? Goodness Danticus, how so?"

"Lucky shot, I'd wager," said Cristomir, nuzzling Jenna's neck.

She playfully stopped him as her father trotted up on his horse, dismounting to celebrate with the three.

"And father. How are you?" she said to Gallador

"I'm well my dear."

"You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she asked with concern and a small smile.

"I'm fine, thank you darling. Now, you two go on and celebrate. I need to talk to Danticus," said Gallador, gesturing with his head for them to run off.

Cristomir and Jenna walked off, arm in arm, whispering sweet nothings into each others ears. Gallador led Danticus by the shoulder to talk to him in private.

"Lad, what you did on the battlefield today was beyond impressive. You saved our kings life and took the Oathbreakers. Rorden would be proud."

Danticus nodded. "I saw the opportunity...that's all there is to be said."

"Nay, you sought the opportunity Danticus." The Arch Ranger smiled. "That's what makes a ranger...now, why don't you go get some rest? Big night tonight."

Danticus nodded and bid his friend farewell. He traveled to the barracks, eager to rest in his bed after the battle. The town was lit up in celebration from the kingdoms victory. The losses were few, and king was alive and well, and the same couldn't be said for Ragnar Oathbreaker.

As Danticus entered the Royal Barracks, he was welcomed by his comrades with cheers and a fine few kegs of ale.

"There he is! Glad you're still breathing, friend!" Said a man Danticus recognized. It was Darius, the archer from the battle, still covered in armor and smeared blood, sitting atop a large barrel of ale. "How are you, Danticus!"

"I'm fine, thank you. Glad to see you are as well."

"Who's this, Darius?" Asked another knight, leaning up against a wall.

Darius smiled. "Gentleman, though there is nothing gentle about you lot, this is Danticus, though the scholars from this day on will refer to him as the 'Slayer of the Oathbreaker'!"

The same warrior leant up against the wall guffawed. "This skinny, shaggy haired boy killed the Oathbreaker?" His words were wrapped and delivered in disbelief. "He just slayed the most terriblest king in all of history, and he says he's "fine"!"

"I'm not one for boasting." Said Danticus.

"Ah, come on lad! Tell us what it was like! You got to kill Oathbeaker! Cuttin' that man open must've been better than..." He stopped, trying to think of something clever for his analogy.

"Sex!" Said another warrior.

The room burst out in laughter, crying tears of hilarity. Their mugs were spilling ale as they laughed almost uncontrollably.

"Nuthin' better than sex, you dullard!"

"If you're doin' it right, that is!" Again, laughter ensued. The laughter died down and Darius hopped off the keg. His face was smooth and thin, save for a few bruises, and a scruffy goatee wrapped around his jaw.

"Seems you took my advice. Glad to see someone else made it off the archer platform. Damn that hurl stone...well, enough said about that, let me introduce you to the men who make up the Royal Army of Jorden." He wrapped his arm around Danticus' shoulder and put a mug of ale in his hand. Danticus sipped it, thinking it to be rather sour. He preferred wine, mostly.

"Underneath all this armor and blood and booze are fine, respectable men, and I'll help you pick em out. Think of me as," he paused, and burped up some of the ale he had downed, "as your guide to the common men of the King's Royal Army. Now, over there," he started, pointing to a man sitting on a stool. He was bald and had a deep scar on his forehead. He had some rough stubble and bushy eyebrows, and looked to be a little younger than thirty. "That's Jon. He's a stupid one, but he's a damn good warrior, especially for an Arnish man."

"About that, you're right!" Jon agreed.

"Give him a sword, he'd write a song for you in some poor bastards blood. Over there, by the ale keg, that's Darren," Darius said, and Danticus followed his finger to a man standing next to the barrel filled with alcohol. He had a bashed in eye and a row of sparse front teeth sandwiched between two fat lips. "He's ugly as all hell, but he-"

"Oh shut it, Darius!"

"Who's gonna make me? You?" He said, laughing.

"I've got half a mind too!" said Darren.

"Half a mind is all you got, you ugly bastard!"

The ugly warrior muttered something not as clever under his breath, and dipped back into his mug of ale.

Darius chuckled, and shook his head. "Now, that big guy in the back, that's Balamar. He's big and gruff and don't talk much, but I'd put some coin on him actually having a soft heart. Give the kid a nod, Balamar!"

Balamar looked over his shoulder, uninterested. He gave a deep growl, like a bear awoken from it's slumber.

Darius shook his head. "Oh come on! The kid just slayed Oathbreaker! Ah, to the abyss with you! You see, Balamar here," he took a swig of his ale. "Balamar and I are part of the King's Field Squadron. It's a," he snapped his fingers, trying to think of the word that evaded his tongue, "prestigious, that's it. It's a prestigious position. We're up there, ya know. Not like the Royal Squadron, the ones who decide all the important shit, we're the ones who get down and dirty.

"These bastards here," he said, pointing to Jon and Darren. "The king don't give a shit 'bout them, but they'd like to think so.

"Piss off!" said Jon. The others booed him as well.

Darius chuckled, and rolled his eyes. "I'm only joking! Now Balamar is the weapons guy, the 'master at arms' if you will. You need a new sword, sheathe, shield, bow string," he smiled as he said the last part and winked, "you go to Balamar. And if you need an eagle eye to watch your back," he nodded and jokingly bowed. "You come to yours truly...or Willard, the other squadron marksman, but I'm better, truth be told."

Danticus half smiled. "Well, I could always use some pointers. If I ever need tips or advice, I'll come to you."

Darius slapped his shoulder. "Attaboy, we'll make a Squadroner out of you yet. I'll have to introduce you to our second in command. Real...arrogant guy, but he's not too bad after you get to know him. So...wait, where is Miles?"

"Probably off kissin' Edwin's ass!" said Darren.

Darius chuckled. "That you're probably right. He might as well live with his nose between Edwin's ass cheeks!" He stopped and drank his beverage, swallowed, and belched. "Well, Danticus, we'll let you go on now. Stop by later and we'll drink some more!"

"Thank you. It was nice to meet you all."

"A toast to Danticus, a young warrior with many battles to come, here here!" cried Jon.

"Here here!" the remainder cheered. Danticus smiled and waved his hand as he left to his quarters. He took off his armor and washed the stains of war from his skin. Afterwards, he collapsed in his bed exhausted. Tonight was going to be the night of his life. He tried to remain awake, but his exhaustion was too overwhelming. He fell into a gentle sleep.

*****

(Thanks for reading, and I'd love to know what you think! Sound off in the comments! Your feedback is always appreciated!)