Even though time and space don’t matter in this world, the Fool ran into the Knight of Swords somewhere and sometime. It was on the side of a steep mountain. The Fool could see an epic battle waging in the valley before him. Banners and standards shredded above the fray. Smoke rose from the scene.
The mountainside had been burned recently. Charred stumps dotted the hill. Soot and smoke filled the air and ash snowed down. The Fool felt his lungs begin to burn from breathing all the smoke. The air had an orange hue.
The Fool entered a small ravine where a small trickle of ashen mud oozed down the hill. A newt’s head was sticking above the mud by some rocks he stepped over. The world was a hazy hellscape.
The Fool could see knights on the hill above him. They were heavily armored and on horseback and they surveyed the battle below. One young knight had his helm under his arm and was fidgeting, while the other knights calmly sat on their horses with their helms on and visors down. They looked like Gods watching the folly of man.
One of the armies was badly routed. They were spread out and in disarray. The Fool saw many wounded and could hear their anguishing cries. The smoke grew heavier. The dominant side began marching on the small band of soldiers to finish them off.
The young knight protested, but the other knights held their hands up. The Fool could see that this young knight felt he should intervene. It was not a battle anymore, but a slaughter.
The young knight put his helm on and drew his sword and kicked his horse into action and they went galloping down the side of the mountain. It was almost straight down, but the horse and its rider kept their momentum going towards the battle. The Fool watched the knight run right by him and into the thick smoke.
Then the knight reemerged on the battlefield, charging straight at the line of infantry with his sword in the air. The infantry held their line and put their pikes up, but fear got the best of them at the last moment and they split just as the knight tore through their ranks, hacking at the soldiers with his sword.
Winged women came out of the thick clouds above and swirled around the knight as he fought the army that surrounded him. He just kept hacking and soon his horse had disappeared under the pile of bodies. The army clambered up the hill of corpses to get to the knight but found their deaths instead.
The Fool thought the knight would lose at any moment, but the mound of bodies just kept growing. At one point his white horse jumped out of the pile, sending dead and alive bodies alike flying through the air. The horse started kicking soldiers.
The other knights watched from the hillside as their comrade took on hundreds of enemies in the smoke and on the blood-soaked earth below. One knight opened his visor and began eating a peach.
The Fool stood frozen in awe of the young knight below, as his living enemies were now much fewer. By then the hill of bodies was high and the knight stood atop it with his sword up, swinging it down at any soldier that broke the precipice. He was moving much slower with fatigue, but still, he kept it up. His horse, also tired, patrolled the base of the mountain of corpses and kicked any enemies that came close.
And then, finally, there were no more attacking soldiers. The world became quiet. The smoke drifted around, keeping the hillside the Fool was on obscured. The knight remained standing on his self-made mountain. The other knights turned around and rode off.
The Fool continued his journey. He thought of the young knight as he walked away. Did he overcome the insurmountable odds because of his bravery, or was he lucky?