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𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄 fastened with armour and turbans of all colours gave the battlefield a lively feel despite the many deaths that it had already seen. The vibrant colours of the clothing didn't fit the aggressive nature of Calormenes and stood in stark contrast to their dark skins. They'd gotten used to travelling heavy miles on their wooden shoes with upturned noses and had trained long days for war. Despite reigning in the largest country in Narnia, the Tisroc would never be satisfied with Calormen. This was far from the first time they'd invaded a part of Narnia to claim as their own, the other empires' patience growing thin with Calormen until it barely had any allies left.
Peter had almost kicked himself when the Calormene army had shown up. He should've known that if the Telmarines and Archenlanders were aware of the Western Wild, so did the Calormenes. He wasn't surprised that the empire had joined the dark witches and wizards, as its allegiance to the Kings and Queens was never truly on good terms. He'd never forget how Rabadash—the prince of the Tisroc during his time as reigning king during the Golden Age—had tried to threaten Susan into marriage. That was the last time Peter had ever placed any trust in the Calormenes.
A Calormene soldier, standing almost two entire heads taller than Harry, had charged over to him, noticing how awkwardly he was wielding his sword. Harry wasn't a swordsman and never would want to be one. He stuck out like a sore thumb next to Caspian, Peter and Edmund, who'd all mastered the craft of swordsmanship.
It didn't help that the Calormene soldier wasn't well-educated and as Harry stood near Peter, the Calormen had mistaken him for Edmund, King of Narnia and an important target. He could already see a glorified picture before him at the thought of killing a King of Narnia. The Tisroc would bath him in luxuries, promoting him to the head of the army or even more. A lifetime of opportunities for an easy target.
The growl that he'd let slip past his lips alerted Harry in time to duck away from the soldier's attack. His swing extended further than expected, though his stance was steady enough for him to not trip. He held his sword in high guard as he quickly parried forwards, not in the slightest bit impressed with Harry's terrible footing. He'd heard great things about Edmund co-leading armies to war, the people whispering about him being one of the best swordsmen in Narnia.
Yet, the young man before him couldn't even wield his sword correctly enough to advance back to him, losing his footing as he simply had to retreat. The soldier thrust his sword at Harry and frowned when Harry countered with a strong swing. 'I had expected more of you, King Edmund. Alas, I will spare you no longer,' the soldier spoke as he sped up his attacks against Harry.
Harry could barely keep up with dodging and counter-attacking the incoming blows to even tell the soldier he wasn't the king. The soldier pried Harry's sword out of his hands and advanced forward, stepping onto Harry's sword to prevent Harry from grabbing it again. The soldier parried sharply and thrust into Harry's direction, losing his balance when a sword from the right blocked his advance.
