“Years ago, the dark armies of the north waged their first attack on the Dahlian Isle and entire armies answered the call to arms!” Christian shouted for all to hear, his words bringing nods of assent from the hundreds who had gathered in King’s Valley. He sat atop a muscled steed, his full armor glinting in the sun. “Through the years they have fought hard to protect this island from the Dark Ones. We applaud their courage, and are grateful for their lives of service. Now, a new generation finds itself under attack. We must take up the banner our fathers left for us! We must stand up as one people, and fight!”
The people sat unmoved, silently polishing their armor. They appeared to be listening intently, but no one reached for their sword or whistled for their horse. This new generation of Dahlians were very concerned with the appearance of their armor… they gathered for days to polish the steel until it shone like the sun. Many compared their armor with their neighbors’, hoping that theirs would shine the brightest. In an age where appearance was everything, no one dared to actually wear the armor anymore.
“Rise up, men of Dahlia!” Christian bellowed until his face turned crimson from the strain. “The enemy is coming. We attack at noon!”
A few men shouted in agreement, but no one moved. Eventually, as the sun deepened to midday, the people grew hungry and began to stir.
“That was a wonderful call to arms,” one man whispered to his neighbor. “I’m so glad the King has sent each province a trained warrior to prepare us for battle.”
“Yes,” his fellow replied. “I feel so inspired. I think I can even imagine myself doing battle one day!”
Christian, the King’s Warrior, strode by on his powerful steed. “Then why do you wait?” he cried. “Why not march into battle today? See – the dark shadow approaches… there is not much time!”
This brought a round of applause, and the people of Dahlia chattered excitedly about this latest battle cry as they headed home to devour their lunch.
Before long, Christian was the sole occupant of King’s Valley. Squinting against the late afternoon sun, he could make out the vast armies of the north across the bay, lighting their torches in preparation for battle.
“God help me,” he prayed. And he rode into battle.
“Prepare for battle against her! Arise, let us attack at noon! But, alas, the daylight is fading, and the shadows of evening grow long.”
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