The Black Knight

I. The Siege

I. The Siege

The castle of Angilbert clung to the side of the mountains of Harlovec on the eastern border of the Kingdom of Azakoria, a stark black silhouette against the flaming dawn sky.

There were countless legends about those mountains, tales of fearsome beasts and daring outlaws who had made their home on these hostile peaks. And there were just as many tales and legends about Castle Angilbert itself and its Lords. Depending on which legend you chose to believe, the Lords of Angilbert were either heroic liberators and protectors of the downtrodden or cruel tyrants who engaged in unspeakable rites in the dungeons that reached deep into the black rock. The truth, as always, was likely somewhere in the middle.

From the saddle of his stallion Shadowmane, Kurval, King of Azakoria, gazed up at the castle, wondering what was going on behind those forbidding walls.

“They say that Castle Angilbert is impregnable, Sire,” Izgomir, Kurval’s vizier and chief councillor said with as much awe in his voice as Kurval had ever heard, “Never in a thousand hundred years have its walls been breached, though not for lack of trying.”

“We don’t need to breach those walls,” Kurval said. He was in full armour — silver chased with gold — though he was not wearing his helmet. “We just need to besiege the castle and make sure nothing and no one gets out or in. Sooner or later, they will give up.”

“The Black Knight of Angilbert never gives up,” Izgomir said darkly, “More than twenty years ago, King Brogan thought he had the Lord of Angilbert brought to heel, when he captured the Lord’s only daughter and her escorts. The attendants were punished and the girl held for ransom until the Lord of Angilbert bowed his knee to the throne. Which he did. But that was only a brief respite, for as soon as the girl was reunited with her father, the Black Knight of Angilbert started up his reign of terror again.”

Privately, Kurval sympathised with the rebellious Lord. He certainly wouldn’t have been kindly inclined towards anybody who kidnapped a child of his.

“Black Knight or not, the Lord of Angilbert and his people still have to eat,” Kurval pointed out, wondering not for the first time just why Izgomir was so impressed by this recalcitrant Lord. “It’s the end of the winter, so their stores will be largely depleted. So either this Black Knight surrenders or he shall starve along with his men.”

“No one knows if the Lords of Angilbert are even fully human,” Izgomir continued, “There are rumours that deep inside the mountain, there is a portal to the underworld itself, where demons and creatures from the pit dwell. There even are stories…” Izgomir shuddered theatrically, “…that those of Angilbert are mating with demons down there.”

“I don’t care if the Lords of Angilbert mate with the Great Old Ones themselves…” Kurval countered, “…as long as they accept the authority of the crown.”

This was obviously not the response Izgomir had expected. With sniffy disdain he said, “They’re not fully of noble blood, at any rate.”

“Well, I’m not of noble blood at all, so we should get along just fine,” Kurval remarked.

Izgomir wisely said nothing more.

The Lords of Angilbert had been a thorn in the side of the Kings of Azakoria for centuries now. They valued their independence, refused to pay taxes, supply troops and bow to the throne.

Kurval had inherited the quarrel with Adelard, the current Lord of Angilbert, from his predecessor Orkol. Apparently, Adelard had been sending back the heads of tax collectors and soldiers sent to bring him down to Orkol for at least three years now.

Not that Kurval didn’t sympathise. Orkol had bled the people dry via ever higher taxes to finance his lavish lifestyle. That was part of the reason why no one in Azakoria much mourned the late King Orkol, after Kurval slew him and took the throne for himself. Though the people of Azakoria didn’t particularly like Kurval either. After all, he was a foreigner, a barbarian from across the sea. Though he did try to do better by the people who were now his than Orkol had ever done.

Kurval couldn’t have cared less about the quarrel between Orkol and Adelard of Angilbert. After all, Orkol was dead and Adelard likely in the right. However, the last tax collector sent to Castle Angilbert — with a message that Orkol was dead and Kurval was willing to let bygones be bygones — had returned with an arrow in his thigh. And that Kurval could not ignore.

After all, that tax collector was one of Kurval’s people and had been wounded in the service of his King. True, the man had survived his injury with no worse aftereffects than a persistent limp, but Adelard could not be allowed to get away with wounding one of Kurval’s men. And so Kurval had done what Orkol should have done long ago. He took two regiments — the elite Blood Guard and the somewhat less elite Silver Sentinels — to besiege Castle Angilbert and finally bring the Black Knight to heel.