The army prepared to march into Ironhollow just as the sun rose over Amira's rocky hills.
The soldiers stared as two of the men marched towards the massive door that led to Ironhollow, carrying between them a sack of gunpowder heavier than both of them combined.
They placed the sack and four others against the door, and they ran back towards the rest of the army.
An officer shouted an order, and a soldier stepped forward. He lit a match and threw it. It landed against one of the sacks, and the army backed up. A spark went up, and hit the sack.
It exploded.
Debris rained down and a black cloud of smoke rose as all four sacks of gunpowder went up in flames, exploding with astounding force.
As the smoke cleared, they caught sight of the doors. What was left of the the doors, that is.
The officers led their army through the archway, kicking aside flaming debris as they marched.
Sir Prescott had mounted an old fashioned chariot, and was being escorted by his private guards.
He smiled.
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