But what Oliver found most unbearable was that on yesterday's battlefield, he had nearly died at their hands.
During the assault on the city yesterday, Oliver and his Knights were the first to charge through the gates. His Warhorse kicked up dust on the cobblestone streets, his blade glinting coldly under the blazing sun. He thought victory was within his grasp, yet in the next instant, fate bared its fangs.
A guard clad in Chain Armor suddenly charged out. The man was tall and burly, the Long Spear in his hand striking like a venomous snake. Oliver couldn't dodge in time and was instantly thrown from his horse. His back slammed hard onto the ground, the impact denting his breastplate and stealing his breath.
