Their troops charge forward and we brace ourselves for the impact. Our job is to hold the shields tight, spears jutting out, while the men behind us slash out with their swords, cutting off limbs and, if lucky, entire heads. All nervousness disappears and battle lust claims even the meekest of men. Shouts cry out as the first swords swing through the air and connect with heavy mail. We hold our line and push against the throng of madmen trying to claim our lands. We fight not only for honor, not just for our king, bur for our women and children, for the life that is rightfully ours. I picture my beautiful Saryf holding our two daughters and I push with the ferocity only battle can bring. When the axe crashes down upon my head, their image is the last.