The Story So Far
Cambrian diplomacy netted little other than an expectation that their own infighting would keep the western borders quiet. Even that little comfort was secured not by diplomacy, but by one solid swing of Sir Marcus’ great axe. In the north, Octa and his forces – heavily bolstered by reinforcements from the continent and other Saxon kingdoms in Britain – ran roughshod over Lindsey. They did not bother to finish their siege but continued their march south.
Little word came from King Uther, and what word there was of him was the same – of an illness that would not abate, an illness which cast a shadow across the whole land and into its very soil. It was rumored that the king cried out for Merlin’s aid, only to have his wife turn into a viper at the mere mention of the magician. The nobles kept their realms together, but they knew that without the king to lead them, they would all end up the same as Lindsey.
The Saxons cared not for what afflicted the king or the people of Logres. They continued southward without mercy. No amount of plunder or blood could sate them. Octa and his forces had to be stopped or all was lost. That much was obvious. The question that haunted the nights of every lord, lady, and knight: could the soldiers of Logres defeat them?
Sir Aldwyn, Sir Annan, Sir Finnian, Sir Henry, Sir Keith, Sir Marcus, Sir Marcus Scipio