7"Milord," growled Torve Thundaga in his heavily accented voice.
King Val Galtai looked down at the Dwarf beside him. "Yes Torve?"
"Your son's scouting party has returned. The Imperial host is more than ten thousand strong." The Dwarf paused, hesitant to speak his next words. "I don't not think we can win this, Milord."
The King rested his hand on the hilt of his sword, Peacemaker, a magick blade forged by Elven Magi. "Then we shall fight. If we are to be conquered, we will cause this to become a place of nightmares for the Imperials.
"We shall fight them here, Torve. If we can stop them here, no matter how unlikely that may be, if we stop them, they will not be able to invade our great land. If we lose, we will slow them down enough so that preparations can be made for a long guerilla war.
"Aye, sir! We'll give 'em hell!"
The King smiled grimly at the Dwarven General's brave words, and then walked out to the battlements of Fortress Calathon. Thousands of Royal Soldiers were scurrying about in the courtyard, looking for armor, sharpening swords, and fletching arrows. Men, Elves, Dwarves, Plainsmen, all were equal in Arthanas.
All of this would be lost if Arthanas fell to the Korathean Empire. The Imperials were racist thugs, and looked down upon the Elder races as weak and frail.
The King motioned towards a Plainsman standing nearby. The warrior raised a large to his mouth and let out three deafening blasts.
All of the soldiers below looked towards the King, pride welling in their hearts.
"Listen to me now!" bellowed the King Galtai. "The Imperial Army is marching upon us now to steal our homes, rape our women, and burn our crops! This battle is one we must win, for if we lose, where will the Dwarves and Elves go?
"Let us fight today, and show history that Arthanas was a nation of brave warriors, a nation that could hold against the might of the Imperial Army!
"Let all of you fight beside me today and know that you are fighting to protect everything we stand for! Life, liberty, and equality!
"We must give the Imperial dogs hell! For Arthanas!" he cried as he thrust his sword into the air.
***
Several minutes later, King Galtai stood in his chambers with his son, Prince Jamus, and his son's closest friend, Zan.
"I fear we will not win this battle. There are too many. And the Imperials are masters of siege and using large armies. We are best at small, hard strikes at an enemy's weak spot. You are to leave. You will go into hiding. Continue the Royal Line, and stay in our land, organize rebellions and fight the Imperials every way you can. And teach your children to do the same.
"Zan Brackenshield, you must undertake the great responsibility to protect my son, and his descendents. You will be Guardian of the Royal Family and you and your descendents will protect us always."
"What of our men?" asked Jamus, surprised at his father's orders.
"Torve will take command of your battalion. You must go son. There is no alternative."
"I will do as you command Father."
"And you Zan? Will you shoulder the responsibility of the Guardian?"
"I do, my liege."
The king looked sad for a moment, and he pulled his son into an embrace. "Go now, my son!"
The king watched the two young men leave, knowing he would never again look upon his son's face.
***
The battle was over. Torve Thundaga surveyed the destruction from the cliffs high above the Fortress. He and most of his battalion had escaped after being driven into the caves around the Calathon pass.
"Come let us go. We shall cross the sea and make for the Sparkling Isles. There we shall wait for the coming of the king," said the Dwarven General gruffly, but that was only to cover up the grief that threatened to overwhelm him.