He hacked and slashed his way through through the enemy masses, sending putrid black blood flying from the tip his sword with every stroke, kicking away the mortally wounded enemies to keep his pace rather than waiting for them to fall on their own.
All the time, he kept his eyes on the King’s flag, watching it waver and threaten to fall into the hordes. The Guard must be hard-pressed.
No matter: they could hold their own. The walls still stood, and clouds of arrows still rained down onto the monstrous enemy mass before them.
The City will not fall.