The sound was deafening. Fifty heavily armored warhorses charging at full speed across frozen ground sounded like an earthquake tearing the world apart. Baron Dominic Sullivan rode at the very tip of the wedge formation. His golden, magical armor burned so brightly in the morning light that it hurt to look at him. He held his blazing broadsword high above his head. He didn't look at the village as a place where people lived; he looked at it as a pile of dirt hiding his treasure. "Burn it all! Leave none alive!" the Baron roared, his voice echoing with magical amplification. Behind him, the elite Sorcerer-Knights lowered their long, heavy lances. The tips of the weapons crackled with blue lightning and red fire. They expected to hit the village square in seconds. They expected the mud to be slick with the blood of screaming, running peasants. They did not expect the ground to fight back.Arthur stood completely still in the center of the main road, just twenty yards behind the firs