Gate of Dimensions

Prologue: A Fallen Kingdom

540 AD, 20th February

Castle Camelot, Britannia

Arthur, the undisputed King of the Britons looked over the field from a vantage point on a hill outside his castle, overlooking the massive army before him. The Anglo-Saxon army below was chanting and roaring their words with an obvious that they are begging for him to take the fight to them in force, salting forth with his forces. His Knights of the Round Table surrounded the King with their shields, hoping to provide the king with utmost protection against a Saxon berserker. Arthur wasn't one to need protection, only loyalty.

If anything, Arthur shared his knight's unease about the whole situation. Years he and his men have spent fighting the combined Anglo-Saxon invaders, running them down with mounted horseback in shining armour. No matter how many times he spends fighting these invaders, more and more seem to arrive quicker and larger than the last one that came. If he was to spend the remaining years of his life repelling every attack from barbaric Germanic tribes, then he would do it leading his armies from the front.

Luck alone saved his life many times before. But now, it seems his youthful luck had finally run out. For years they have been pushed back to their final stronghold before they reached the heart of Britons: their own capital city of Camelot. To protect the people of Camelot was the duty he was charged with, which spread thin to the people of all Britain, ever since he became king after pulling the sword out of stone as a mere child - he always had a laugh at the memory - but he was extremely good at doing it.

Arthur was a veteran of dozens, or maybe hundreds, of battles by now, so his experience on the front lines made him almost as great as Caesar. And by now the Anglo-Saxons are not much different from previous aggressors. But this was a much different day. Arthur surely thought that the defeat of the Saxons at Badon would have halted their advance. Now, they have been massing on the Briton's border like a swarm of ants. The way they chanted meant he knew that they were not coming for the Britons. They were coming for him.

They could simply go around the pass of the southern mountains to reach the main Briton holdouts and win the whole war but instead, they chose to attack the castle as a means to break the people of Brittania's spirits, hoping to defeat the king and his garrisoned army. With the number of troops within the garrison, Arthur knew that the Anglo-Saxons could simply starve them out instead of fighting. His last chance to preserve his crown and his kingdom was to take the fight to them in an open field.

The army of King Arthur stood outside the safety of their castle in the field of battle, riding on horseback with dozens of mounted knights of his closest friends acting as his personal guard. Men in dark armour-clad baring the Christian sigil stood in good formation to fight for their king; swordsmen and spearmen in the front, cavalry in the flanks and the archers in the rear, staring down the disorganized army on the other side, showing them that they will fight to defend their land.

The Anglo-Saxons bore little more than leather armour, wielding heavy axes, bows that look like they are made of yew and shields so poorly crafted it made people from the Stone Age look like bronze-smiths. To make up for these factors stacked against them, they made up for it by vastly outnumbering the Britons nearly three-to-one. The Anglo-Saxons were certainly confident that their numbers alone would bring down the mighty King Arthur, but if they would study the great histories of battle, they would understand that numbers alone are not what wins a battle in the end. It is tactics, something even the earliest civilisations developed over the years of their existences.

After many hours of waiting, noises from the other side of the field echoed right through Arthur's helmet. The war cries, shield bashings and roars of anticipation heralded the sudden charge of the Saxon forces, heading right into the infantry like forces of nature. Arthur wasn't terrified or at the very least nervous, just relieved that battle is finally commencing, and simply closed his helmet slot and drew his sword and raising it above his head. As it did when he first pulled it from the stone, Excalibur, the sword shined brighter than any star in the sky could ever, earning a round of cheers from the soldiers around him.