“Kill him!”
The command left no room for hesitation.
Hundreds of Lancaster guards surged forward like a tidal wave, weapons raised and eyes ablaze.
No orders were needed on my side. Thirty Knights of the Round Table moved as one, an unstoppable force descending upon the attackers.
Steel clashed. Chaos erupted.
Blades flashed in the dim light. Cries of pain filled the grand hall, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. Even trained sharpshooters were picked off before they could react—silent sniper shots from the shadows, precise and unforgiving, ending lives before the first scream could finish.
Reginald and Lid’s faces drained of color.
They had believed that numbers equaled power.
They were wrong.
How could ordinary men possibly withstand the elite Knights of the Round Table?
