Syria, 1110 A.D

“A waste of my time,” Armatos ek Naksou thought to himself as he and his bodyguard continued the march from the coast to Antiokheia. “Even though it’s necessary, it’s so boring. Perhaps the Lord will find favor with me and the Caesar will get some roads constructed here before his term ends, and if I’m really lucky-“

Armatos’ thoughts were interrupted by the return of one of the scouts he had sent ahead. Armatos raised his hand, ordering his men to a halt as the man approached him.

“My lord, there’s trouble. A farmstead up the road is under attack by bandits.”

“Lead us there.” Armatos lowered his visor, and galloped after the scout at full speed, confident his men were behind him. As time wore on and they had still yet to arrive, Armatos feared the worst. But an altogether different sight greeted them when they at last arrived.

The farmstead had suffered only minor damage, and had instead been turned into a battlefield. There was a trail of bodies leading away, composed of many archers and spearmen with the occasional cavalry. Armatos noted with some surprise that the horsemen were exceptionally well armored, and were it not for the livery he would have assumed that it was Stavros who had fought off the bandits. But no, these men wore tabards of black and yellow, with a distinct motif of eagles. In the back of his mind Armatos felt like he should be embarrassed for not recognizing their colors, but as he was in the midst of pursuing the battle he thought little of it.

It did not take long for them to catch up. By now there was only one of the knights left, charging about a score of spearmen. Armatos watched as the man’s tough armor allowed him to breakthrough the spearwall, and was impressed at his efficiency as his swing killed several of them before retreating to line up for another charge.

Then, out of the corner of his eyes Armatos saw one of the archers struggle to his feet from amidst the corpses, having apparently suffered only minor injuries. He lifted his bow and took aim at the knight who was killing his comrades.

Armatos quickly ordered his guard to intercept the man, and the sudden sound of charging nobles coupled with the sight of the Empire’s colors caused the man to abandon all hope except for escaping with his life. As he fled, Armatos pulled up his men and wheeled around to make sure the knight was safe. He could see that he had scattered the last of the brigands, and was now standing of in the distance regarding him.

“Men, put away your weapons! Let us go and greet our guest.” Having marched within speaking distance, Armatos raised his visor. “I am Armatos ek Naksou, Marshall of the Knights of St. John and Prince of Antioch. I thank you for coming to the aid of my subjects. What is your name, good sir knight, so that I can remember?”

The Knight raised his visor, and from the close distance Armatos noticed that the eagle on the knight’s tabard was not black or yellow, but a red and white checkerboard. Finally the man spoke, in halting greek.

“I am Sigismund von Mahren!”

To be continued…