The March on Avalon

We were moving again, putting the 'event' from a few nights prior behind us. Our destination was Avalon, the capital of the now rebel-controlled Kingdom of Albia. In the preceding weeks of fighting, the royalist forces had steadily lost ground. Enemy strongholds had been smashed or had surrendered one by one. After liberating a string of key cities, we were now aiming for the greatest prize of all. Our column, a formidable force composed primarily of the Shieldmaiden Legion and the Knights of the Azure Cross, with a smattering of common grunts, advanced on the capital.

Give me the sensation, and every day, push my motor. Gospel of the Throttle: Fully engage my engine

"Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na!"

My childhood friend and I sang along from horseback, our voices carrying on the wind. The local Albian soldiers eyed us as if we were inebriated pirates, but our fellow Valorians and the Shieldmaidens watched with open amusement.

Driving, swerving, and sideways turning
I can no longer handle this pressure.
Got a whirlwind of love
I also received love.
I have this love.
My hurricane arrived.

"Nice duet, you two," Cutter said, clapping and laughing. "I'm surprised your little band never got as big as Coldplay."

"We would have," I deadpanned, "if only Bard's voice weren't so damn off-key."

"Oh, shut it," he retorted. "And you're the dickhead who kept forgetting the chords, remember?"

I just shook my head and laughed. We rode on in a comfortable silence for a time. A sense of unease crept over me, however, as I noticed the stares of the Albian grunts. I could tell some were murmuring about us behind our backs. Bard must have sensed it too, because he broke the silence.

"You know, Captain?" he began. "Even if we held a concert right now, hardly anyone would show up. You know why? Because most people these days will happily drop hundreds of dollars to watch some guy in a helmet flip a switch on and off without ever showing his face. Hell, the Navy's DJs are better than that. It's not like the old days," he mused, "when you could pay a few dozen bucks to see a legendary band like AC/DC pour their hearts out on stage."

"You're not wrong, mate," the Captain agreed. "But I bet after all that bloody whining, you'll still go listen to Alan Walker and Marshmello."

"Fuck no, I won't!"

As Bard's tirade wound down, my attention was drawn to a figure approaching on the road. He had sharp hazel eyes, short, layered dark-blue hair, and subtly pointed ears. What truly startled me was his mount: not a horse, but a magnificent, blasted griffin.

"Pardon me, gentlemen," the rider said, his tone polite but firm. "But would you kindly refrain from such coarse language? A knight minds his manners and his tongue. You'll lose the respect of the Albians if you carry on like that."

"Don't you worry about that, pal," Bard assured him with a wide grin. "We can handle it. After all, we're knights in BDUs that smell like four weeks of piss and ballsweat."

The knight couldn't suppress a laugh. Straightening up, he adopted a more formal tone, though a grin still played on his lips. "I confess I don't know what a 'BDU' is, but you have my respect, sirs." He inclined his head. "I am Edric Torvin, Griffin Rider of the Knights of the Azure Cross. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Bard extended a hand. "The name's—"

"Ensign Vance, I know," the rider interrupted, shaking it firmly. He then gestured to Cutter and me. "And you must be Captain Thorne and Lieutenant Shinozaki, am I right?"

"That's us," I confirmed.

Cutter's gaze was fixed on the creature. "Is that a griffin?"

"He is," Edric said, stroking the griffin's proud neck. "This is Helios. He's been my companion since I joined the knighthood."

"Does he bite?" Bard asked, reaching out to gently stroke its flank.

"Only villains, and only on my command," Edric replied. The griffin leaned into the touch, clearly enjoying the attention like an oversized dog.

"He reminds me of my dog back home," Bard mused. I cautiously reached out as well, my fingers brushing against the surprisingly soft feathers.

"You have a dog?" Edric asked.

"A Golden Retriever named Dogee. He's partners with my younger brother, who's a K9 officer."

"A 'K9 officer'?" Edric inquired, puzzled. The Valorians had no police force in our sense of the word, let alone K9 units. Their Criminal Intelligence Division was more akin to our FBI.

"It's a type of city guard," Bard explained, "one who works with dogs."

"You use dogs to guard your cities? I thought they were only used by hunters."

"Nah, dogs are great for sniffing out drugs and explosives, and for riot control, too."

We continued our conversation as we rode, occasionally joined by our friends Brielle, Elara, and Xenous. After passing through a dense forest, our column finally halted in a wide, grassy clearing to make camp. We were only a few kilometers from Silchester, one of the largest remaining rebel-held cities.

While Cutter went to confer with Commander Cortez, Sir Bors, Commander Morwenna, and the commanders from the Knights of the Gilded Circle about our next move, Bard and I helped the others pitch the tents.

Before setting up our own shelter, we dug three trenches within its future footprint, each two meters long and half a meter wide. The otherworlders watched, perplexed, as we dug what they must have thought were shallow graves. I explained it was a simple soldier's trick: fighting positions to protect us from flaming arrows or direct musket fire as we slept. Besides, sleeping in the dugout trench was warmer than on the open ground. As expected, the Albian POGs laughed their asses off. They'd learn their lesson soon enough, probably when a musket ball found its way into their groin while they snored.

With the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, it was time to find food. We were sick of field rations, so my American friend and I tagged along, hungry for a real meal.

Prone against the forest floor, I centered the crosshairs of my sniper rifle on a buck a hundred meters away. I targeted the largest of the herd, aiming for the vital area just below its shoulder. I flicked the safety off and gently squeezed the trigger.

Two thunderous reports echoed through the trees almost simultaneously, and the buck collapsed as the rest of its herd scattered into the woods.

"Too slow, Arc," Brielle remarked with a bright smile as she lowered her musket. "Looks like I win again!"

Bard chuckled. "Hahaha, looks like someone finally bested our Oni no Ō!"

"Hehe, I beat you in sword fighting, and now I've beaten you in hunting!" she declared, puffing out her chest with pride. "So, who's the boss now?"

I couldn't pinpoint when Brielle had gotten so cheeky with me. If this was Bard's influence, I was going to make him regret it.

"Just get the buck back to camp and shut up," I grunted, pushing myself to my feet. "The men are starving."

"Is he really angry?" Brielle asked Bard, a hint of guilt in her voice.

"He is," Bard confirmed, "but don't worry about it. Arc never holds a grudge." Oh, I am definitely going to mess with this guy, I thought. "Hey, Sigurd! Mind giving us a hand with the buck?"

"With pleasure, Sir Vance!" the enormous knight, Sigurd of the Azure Cross, boomed. He heaved the deer onto his shoulder as if it were a travel sack. He was so large that the animal looked like a schoolboy's satchel on him.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Bard sighed. "Drop the 'sir'."

"My apologies, sire, but I cannot," the large knight replied, the blue circle on his visor wiggling upwards in a surprisingly charming smile.

"Oh... okay, fine."

It was a short walk back to the camp from our hunting spot; it wasn't wise to stray too far in case of an enemy attack. As we approached, I saw Elara and a few Shieldmaidens already skinning rabbits and plucking ducks. I felt a pang of pity for the small creatures. We headed for a campfire where a group of knights was already gathered on logs.

We found Cutter already nibbling on a field ration, which Bard promptly snatched from his hand. "What the hell, that was my pound cake!"

"I was hungry!" Cutter protested. "You wankers took forever just to hunt a damn deer."

Breaking off a piece of the cake for himself, Bard retorted, "Ask first next time, Captain." He muttered under his breath, "Fucking Captain Britain."

Bard offered me a piece as we sat on a log. I took it gratefully. "Thanks," I said, popping it into my mouth.

"Pound cake?" he asked, offering a piece to the man sitting next to him. The man was a beastman of some kind, with a lion's tail, leonine ears, and a shaggy brown mane framing his human-like features. An eyepatch covered his right eye, while his left was a piercing yellow.

"No thanks, Bard," he declined graciously.

Nearby, I saw Xenous mixing a concoction in a small bowl, some sort of potion by the looks of it. He handed it to the lion-man. "Here, drink this."

"All of it?"

"Yes, all at once."

The lion-man, Leo, grimaced but downed the entire unpleasant-looking mixture in one go. "Ughhh!"

I clapped him on the shoulder. "How are you feeling, Leo?"