We Are Knights
By Blake Gabriel
The quiet fell among them like an ashen snow. Beneath the breathing, the clink of mail, and the crunching of the white-dusted grass, there was no other sound. Through the silence, Ser Karlton spoke, his voice joyless and grim.
“They are not here.”
Around him, the green-cloaked soldiers turned over the bodies of the dead. Most of their faces were ruined and rimed with frost, their bodies leaving pink spots in the gray-flecked snow. The corpses bore the chained bear sigil on their coats, though whatever armor and weapons they bore had been looted.
“These are Dace armsmen,” Ser Henrik said, rubbing his fur-gloved hands together for warmth. “Surely these were Lord Thorys’ children among them.”
“They are not,” Karlton replied, “else these men would have fought harder. They died much too quickly.”