The expanse before Alfred lay unfolded as a bottomless ocean of discord. The clashing of blades was heard in the skies as King Theodore III's and King Vortigern's troops met in a muddled jig of combat. Alfred stayed standby, his sword drawn and his shield steadily in position. The fine dust and the fragrance of bloodshed engulfed his nostrils, yet he soldiered forth with a resolute steadfastness.
The opposition was not of the sort the army had encountered until then. King Vortigern's combatants were great, tall figures radiating an intimidating aura. Several of them had strange signs imprinted onto their flesh, a manifestation of the dark sorcery facilitating their strength. Alfred's heart raced as he confronted one such daunting adversary, a dopey giant whose eyes blazed with an odd luminosity.
A deafening clang echoed as their blades collided, pushing Alfred back with its immense strength. His arms shuddered as he strove to defend himself against each thrust, with his muscles writhing in exhaustion. The tumultuous quarrel swirled about him, a wild tornado of chaos and bloodshed.
