"I... I can't breathe..." The bald Knight's half head was buried in the mud pit, with a white-armored Holy Gun Cavalry kneeling on his neck.
"Stay still. Who told you to attack the army?" While wrapping iron chains around his hands, the Holy Gun Knight cursed him by pointing the gun at his head.
With half his face pressed against the muddy ground, the sky in front of the bald Knight had already tipped to the other side of the world, while the world in front of him was filled with mountain villagers engaged in fistfights.
On the earthen road in the cold rain, not far from the Knight's main house, between the bushes and streams and the forest, arrows flew back and forth, embedding themselves in shields or tree trunks.
The Black Champion, wearing a felt hat, yawned, resting the holy gun on his shoulder, looking indifferently at this child's play of a fistfight.
