The thick wooden gates finally succumbed and splintered into pieces as the point of the battering ram broke through. It was nothing more than the end of the tree trunk carved to a point, dulled from repeated bashing against the gates. The battering ram was pulled back and barbarians squeezed in through the breach with their worn leather armor and unmatching helmets and weapons. The barbarians preferred simple weapons, morning stars or maces or warhammers, those that did not need to be constantly sharpened to be effective. The last remaining orcs charged at them and although the battle was fierce, all the orcs laid smashed and dead within minutes, overwhelmed by superior numbers.

The barbarians dared not approach the dark sorceress who held her ground several steps away flanked by her dragon. Her staff sparkled with dark magics readied to be released when the lone night dismissed the barbarians, who laughed and joked and removed their fallen comrades and squeezed back through the shattered gate.

The sorceress sneered at the knight with defiance. “You think yourself so brave and skilled that you might defeat me alone?” she scoffed. “How ferocious did you find my orcs?”

“Not very,” said the knight.

“Did my gargoyles thin your numbers?”

“Most of them ran away.”

“Did my dragonkin scorch your barbarians?” she snapped.

“My archers never let them get close enough to find out,” the knight droned.

“So it has come to this, then,” she groaned.

“I have not come here to slay you, Xenthalia,” the knight remarked, and he slammed down the point of his sword into the giant rock tiles. A blue spark jumped away from the impact as the end of the sword dug four inches into the rock. It glowed magnificently for a moment before fading away. He took off his helmet and put it on the hilt of the sword, and brushed his hair back with his hands. “Hi,” he said with a smile.

“Hello...?” she responded in kind with a perplexed greeting of her own. Regaining her sinister composure, she cried out, “Your sword is magical! The King detests magic!”

“I do what pleases me, not my father,” he said. “Speaking of the King, he is throwing a spring faire and insists that I bring someone this year. He said he didn’t care who it was, and well, no one wears a corset like you do. I love how your hair crackles when you electrify your magical staff. Would you do me the honor to accompany me to the faire?”

“The King would be furious!” the sorceress suggested.

“I know!” the knight responded, almost giggling in his giddiness.

“It has been some time since I’ve gone out anywhere nice,” she mumbled to herself. “Very well, she shouted. “But my pet is very jealous of me,” she remarked, petting the dragon that hissed at the knight from behind her. “If he does not disapprove of you, then I shall be on your arm for the entire kingdom to see. Goretooth, attack!!!”

The knight put his helmet back onto his head and pulled his sword from the floor, brandished it at the dragon that stomped towards him. He sighed and muttered, “The things I must do for love...”