Sir Miles of the T-Rex
Passing the baton, or broadsword, or mace, whatever
This shouldn't really be a "chapter" in the foregoing saga. It is more like a new book about to be written. But I shall not write it. Today, to celebrate his 31st birthday, I bequeathed Ricky all of the Schleich stuff (forgot the dragon, so, McMaybe McLater). His son, Miles, played his first game this evening, a very brief assault game, the "simple game", which is about right for a going-on-seven-year-old (just a tad younger than his daddy was when I made it up to play with him: before the Schleich knights came into our lives: those first games were played with the Fisher Price Great Adventures castle and an army of black and gold warriors). His first game is on Miles' diningroom table.
So, 19 years of "knights of the dinner table" come to an end. Ricky and I agreed that everybody in the tiny mountain kingdom got older in obscurity, and eventually it was absorbed into one of the greater realms around it as a vassal state, probably long after King Merlin had passed, likely in his sleep, dreaming about his battles, and especially about the dragon, which of course was his crowning triumph.
Sir Miles of the T-Rex
Sir Miles enquires of his father, Prince Richard, if the dice are warming up
The detritus of the fatal assault
The little rebel's dice were warmed up alright! He rolled a series of 5s and 6s, and the punitive assault (sent by the king) rolled a corresponding series of 1s and 2s. Consequently, in three turns, all those troops were shot down by archer and crossbow fire (the mantlet may as well have been made of Swiss cheese). Feeling very brave, Sir Miles charged out, and the king's knight turned and met him, only to be lanced off his horse.