1939, night covered an unknown town in Germany. There seemed no one awake yet upon a rooftop was a silhouette of a dark dressed figure. He stood from the city like pillar. The leader of the Chevaliers: guardians over France.
The faint rumble of many vehicles became louder as a German convoy rolls toward the village. His eyes have never left it.
The convoy carried men and boys captured for the treacherous Third Reich military.
The Chevaliers mission was to free them.
His hand rose from his side in a signal.
Statue like figures, in the same clothing, came from the homes across him. Eight in all; his siblings where ready.
Roof ash shuffled under foot behind him: Another. His gaze was off the convoy.
“Mathieu, are we ready?” a soft voice floated to his ears.
“Always Richesse,” Mathieu answered his hand dropping as his sister’s warm hand came to his shoulder.
“Watch Joie, will you?” she said.
‘I always do.” He turned to face her. Looking past her and putting on a grin he nodded to his brother who had just come upon them, “I even watch Marc here.”
Deep laughter hit the air, “Even with your numerous talents, Big brother…” Marc said, “I can still beat you with the old Excalibur,” A sliver sword was unsheathed. Showing Marc’s renamed sword of King Author.
“Brothers, we have a convoy to take care of,” Richesse said coming in between them.
“I could do this with my hands and legs tied,” Marc replied appearing beside his brother on the wall in a leap.
“Humph,” Mathieu grinned shaking his head at his brother impulsiveness.
The convoy was below them.
Dust was shaken where the two brothers feet where as they sprung form the roof’s edge.
A smile crossed Richesse lips as she went to where they had stood, “Go get them, fellows.”
The cranking gears sounded as the convoy slowed to have two dark figures appear in the front of them.
Mathieu and Marc.
Rising, the automatic at Mathieu’s side came to rest its barrel toward the first vehicle.
“We’ve have come to relieve you of your men,” Mathieu said in perfect German. The first voice to come was soon followed with laughter for standing from the lead halftrack (an armored vehicle) was a young captain. He wore a black uniform: SS.
But? Mathieu hesitated. The captain’s uniform’s markings were red not white like in the standard uniform.
“Who will make me,” replied the captain.
Taking the riling, Mathieu watched as the captain jumped from the halftrack in one leap and landed softly. Other men followed in that sequence until six where behind him, each one wearing the same uniform as the captain.
Mathieu stepped back as his finger went to the cold metal of the trigger. The unknown was danger. He turned to his brother.
Mathieu‘s lip broke as his teeth clutched down upon it. Marc had stepped forward; holding out his sword in challenge.
A man stepped from the crowd and metal sparkled in the moon light as he also unsheathed a sword.
“Marc, back down!” Mathieu ordered his brother in French knowing his brother too well.
“The Chevaliers are frightened of a little challenge?” the captain spoke in French straight at Marc. Before Mathieu could stop his brother he had already gotten out of his reach. Metal clashed in to the air.
“Attack!” was cried from both parties.
Up on the rooftop Richesse watched; a stone lodged in her throat.
Joie! Her eyes went up from the street to the building across from her to catch her sister’s gaze.
Her heart went cold.
Figures appeared circling the whole area.
It was a trap!
Richesse opened her mouth to give warning when a cold hand held her lips and pain shot through arm. Instantly her muscles locked as she became paralyzed. Everything became hazy and Richesse dropped into the dark.