A Knight Without Fear Or Blame, A story about a knight. But you don't find out he becomes a knight Options

[TheBrume]

The topic description was supposed to say: But you don't find out he becomes a knight until about a quarter of the way through.
And I was most disappointed to discover these forums do not cater to my favorite font. Plantagenet Cherokee

Well, I've decided to try my hand at fan fiction. I shall start my fan fiction career (the size of which will depend entirely on your first impressions of my first chapter) with a story which I've been playing around with in my head a while now.

'A Knight Without Fear or Blame' is the title. I think it was Khalid ibn al-Walid first said that or maybe it was Saladin. It was one of them, but I'm rambling now.
Anyway, this story will be about an Imperial from a certain village and he… well, I don't want to spoil the story for you. I plan on stretching it out for as long as possible without killing any entertainment value it has (I'll let you decide if it has any or not) across multiple paragraphs, chapters and acts (though I think 'act' is more of a term used in drama, rather than stories but I digress).
Also, the main character 'Lucius Andronicu' (kudos if you get the referance) originally started out as 'Titus Saepio.'

Oh, and I pride myself on my grammar, spelling. But, my keyboard seems to live in order to spite me so please point out any typos.

P.S Please bear in mind I am a complete amateur at writing anything creative, poetry, prose or whatever. So be kind. But not too kind. Just don't be merciless.

At that, let's get this show on the road.
I present to you, a poor excuse of a prologue and a better (I hope) excuse for a first chapter.

A Knight Without Fear Or Blame

Prologue:

It was a clear and cold evening. The last of the suns rays had long since disappeared in the west and the people of Grimdale Moor slept soundly in their beds, blissfully unaware of the approaching threat. From the west, an Orcish war band approached, their war chief was hungry for blood and loot. To a larger, better defended town, such a band would pose no threat whatsoever. But although Grimdale Moor was town of reasonable size, the local Knights of the Hour had left their chapterhouse and gone to fight in the King's Army, leaving only a small band of the weak, incompetent or those disliked by the chapter master behind to defend the town. Grimdale Moor was an easy target to any marauding warband.


Chapter One: A Night of Grief

Lucius Andronicus awoke with a start to the sound of steel clanging on steel, wood splintering, horses whinnying, fire roaring and people screaming. Orange flames illuminated his bedroom and smoke from his neighbours burning house seeped in through the window. He quickly rose from his bed and got himself dressed, fear overtook his nine year old mind, as he did so he could hear the clash of steel grow louder, accompanied by savage cries.
As the boy pulled on his dark green cloak, the noise stopped and a broad shouldered figure burst into his room, wielding a sword. Fear quickly overtook the boy, only for that fear to be washed away as orange flames illuminated his father's face. Lucius recognised the sword, it was a long, hand and a half sword. Steel, made from Wrothgarian iron, the best in Tamriel Father had always said. He had been mending the hilt for some Knight from Wayrest who didn't trust the smiths of that city. The pommel was the head of a bear, the seal of the untrusting knight's family.

"Lucius." He said simply, a look of relief on his face, the body of a great big green Orc lay behind him, it's face covered by Father's cloak. Lucius had seen dead bodies before, despite his young age of nine. Orcs often raided the village, but never in such great numbers, and there had always been soldiers of Wayrest garrisoning the village. But now the soldiers were no more, the King had drawn them away to fight some war with Daggerfall over some distant island. But boys of nine did not concern themselves with such things, boys of nine busied themselves with climbing trees, fishing, playing tricks on the local mages and playing games with other boys of nine.
"Come, we have to leave." He said, suddenly growing more anxious as more vicious war cries were heard.
"But where?" Lucius asked as he grabbed his sling and a small bag of smooth pebbles he had collected from the nearby stream.
"Chorrol." Father said sharply as he grabbed Titus' arm and dragged him from his room. "My brother stays there, he will take us in and I'm sure they have need of blacksmiths there." The house was a blur to Lucius as he was pulled through it. It was all he could do to keep his short legs moving at a pace that would not have him dragged along the hard wooden floors. From what he did see however, Father had killed at least two other Orcs judging from the large green hunks of flesh found by the door of the kitchen.

Upon reaching the small, two storied house's door, Father set Lucius down and drew his knightly honoured user sword again. "Stay close to me Titus. Don't run off and stay away from the flames, we make for the stables." The village had a stables on it's outskirts. Or rather, the Knight of the Hour chapterhouse had a stables and their Altmeri commander was good enough to allow the people of the village to stable their horses. For a small fee. So kind-hearted of him, particularly after the village's own stables had burned down in a suspicious fire and the stable hand had been murdered. Lucius had often heard such talk as the village women washed their clothing and linens at the lake while he and his friends played Kick the Mudcrab.

Father cautiously pulled the heavy Wrothgarian Pine door open and peered outside, Lucius caught a glimpse of a Legion Destrier, a man in bronze coloured Armour mounted atop it, slashing his sword at the Orcs who surrounded him and his steed, armed with swords, one or two with spears. They were kept at bay by the horseman's sword and the horse's hooves, it looked like more than one Orc had been foolish enough to move to the rear of the animal. The man was Samuel deBrume, the second in command of the Legion garrison at Oxvale Borough, to the south west. A kind man who was visiting the town for unknown reasons. He had often saved the villagers from extortion by the corrupt Order of the Hour, much to the chagrin of that order.

"Stay here, Lucius." His Father rushed to help the man, he slashed his sword across the back of the nearest Orc, attracting the attention of two others.
Lucius placed a smooth white stone in his sling and swung it around his head for a few moments before releasing it and sending the projectile hurtling towards a bulky Orc armed with a long halberd. The stone struck the Orc in the side of the head and sent the beast down to the ground, dead. An excellent shot.
Father said nothing about not using my sling.
He had never killed an Orc, though it didn't feel any different to killing a rabbit or that hawk.
All animals are the same anyway I suppose.

By the time Lucius had downed another two Orcs, the small skirmish was over and a total of twelve bodies lay at the feet of the warhorse. Thankfully, neither Titus' father nor Samuel deBrume was one of them.
"You have my thanks, Caius," Lucius had rarely heard his father called by his first name. Most called him 'Andronicus' or 'blacksmith'. Even Mother had called him 'darling' rather than Caius, "You should leave this village," the soldier looked to Lucius and smiled, though it was difficult to see in the dim light. "I shall escort you to the-" he was interrupted by war cries sounding the approach of yet more Orcs. "Go Caius, take your son, I shall deal with these beasts." At that, he was off, charging his bay Destrier into the green mass. Father wasted no time in heeding the man's words.
"Come Lucius!" He called, Lucius ran after him. Not even looking to see if the Legionary was still alive.

"You did well, son." He puffed as they approached the gates of the corral. The stable itself was burning and the horses were frightened by the flames, several had jumped over the fence and fled into the distance. Lysa, Father's white mare was still there however, being saddled by another villager.
"Hey! Stop! That's my horse," Father drew his sword and entered the pen.
"Try and stop me fool. I was here first." He in turn picked an axe from the ground and moved towards Father, crossing the corral and passing near the stable itself, there was a tremendous crash and part of the stable building came down on top of the man and those horses who were still stood too close. Lysa, thankfully was not one of them.
Wordlessly, Father mounted the horse and pulled Lucius up to sit in front of him. They galloped off on the road leading south-west. The flames of their former home illuminating their path.

Lucius said nothing, sobbing silently for all he had lost. He even thought he heard his father crying on a few occasions. But that was impossible, Father never cried, not when he hit his hand with a hammer while repairing the Chapel roof, not when he cut himself while working. Never.
But they had nothing. No clothes, no home, no food. Nothing but the shirts on their back, Lucius' sling, Father's sword and their horse. They would never reach Chorrol with what they had with them. They had to go to Wayrest

*******

Addendum (well, I think this is what an addendum is anyway): The story starts in the year 412 of the third era, late Sun's Dusk (November). There will be a date in every update from chapter eight onwards.


This post has been edited by TheBrume: Jan 31 2012, 09:43 PM

[TheBrume]

Thomas Kaira
I'm going to give a few spoilers and say that the Knights of the Rose will play a minor part in this story. There will be other knightly orders, though I won't spoil that part.

Grits
Thank you.

King Coin
Thanks again.
I originally had the wolves attacking. Not sure why I changed it, I think it just seemed better.

Concerning Lucius' dad, well I'm not going to spoil it by saying he dies in the next chapter (just kidding of course).

Acadian
1. I agree now that I look back on it, I'll seperate them a bit more now.
2. Thanks for pointing that out.

Thanks to everyone for your comments on the quality of that chapter. I didn't think that it was very good. But I guess the saying 'quality over quantity' holds true (though I still don't like the title). And I'm still going to increse to quantity though.

Chapter Two: Oxcross Borough

The first tendrils of the sun's light crept through the treetops. Lucius and his father had been riding atop the white mare, Lysa, for some time. Stopping only to allow Lysa to drink from the brook which they had came across some hours ago. At the start of their flight from Grimdale, they were on the road, but somewhere along the way they had lost the track and ended up within the forest where they had been ambushed by Orcs and then rescued by Knights of the Rose. A Bosmer ranger was escorting them.
Judging by the way the sun fell upon the side of their heads, it seemed they were going in the right direction.

"Oxcross Borough should be just beyond that rise there." Aranil, the Bosmeri ranger, assigned to escort them to Oxcross Borough said as he pointed to a small rise, the distinctive top halves of Willow trees could be seen poking their tops out above it. A tell tale sign of water.
"What will we do then?" Lucius asked sleepily. He had cried through most of the night, he couldn't cry any more even if he wanted too.
Father sighed, "I will sell Lysa. She flipped a shoe on the ride here and I don't think she has the strength to reach Wayrest." The mare perked up her ears and snorted as if in agreement. "I want to reach the city soon before those bast- I mean before the Daggerfall Navy blockades the port."

Technically, Daggerfall wasn't at war with Wayrest. Daggerfall was at war with Sentinel over the Isle of Betony. But the people of Wayrest were suspicious of Daggerfall's ambitions. So King Eadwyre had taken the army to the borders and prepared the fleet.

When Lysa crested the rise, Oxcross Borough lay before them. The town was rather large, much more so than Grimdale Moor. It was, as the name implied, deemed prosperous and populous enough to be a self governing borough and important enough for the Kings of Wayrest to allow construction of city walls.
The party descended the ridge and skirted a small lake within which several ducks were quacking away merrily.

"We will take you to Mayor Harlow and Sir Gwendyn. They will want to speak with you." said the Aranil the Bosmer as the horses approached the portcullis of the city gates.
"Sir Gwynden? The Hero of Kathgran Vale? Paladin of the Knights of the Rose?" Lucius asked excitedly. He had heard of Sir Gwynden, as had the rest of Tamriel, he was very famous.
"The very same." The Bosmer laughed.

Lucius barely contained his energy as he strode along the red carpeted marble hallway of the Mayoral Palace. Excitement welled within him, he was eager to meet Sir Gwynden. Lucius and his father had arrived in Oxcross Borough yesterday, they had been treated to rooms in the palace and a hearty breakfast. And now they were going to meet Sir Gwynden!

The happiness fled from Lucius mind as he remembered why they were meeting him.
If only Allon and Cyrus were here to see this... He thought.
He quickly pushed those thoughts from his mind. Best not to think of those things, especially now that his tear ducts had refilled themselves.

As he and Father entered the audience chamber, Lucius caught a glimpse of their hosts. The Mayor was sat upon a large chair with a red cushion, a larger, more extravagant throne sat on a raised pedestal to his left.
"Reserved for the King himself." Father whispered into his ear.

The Mayor wore black finery with gold embroidery, the colour of mourning. Around his neck lay a large, yet simple golden chain. The Mayor had a fat, round face and multiple chins. He had a round body too.

To the throne's right, stood a literal 'Knight in Shining Armour.'
To Lucius' eyes, the knight was a giant. He stood a good foot or so taller than Father. He completely dwarfed the Mayor and the chair he sat on. It was no wonder the Knight stood. If he was sitting, he would have looked incredibly foolish. His armour was made of some black metal. It had gold coloured patterns criss-crossing it's face. The shape of a rose stood out clearly. Despite the gold and black colour, Lucius could still see his reflection in the cuirass. The man wore no helmet, exposing his features. He had a full head of black hair, though it appeared to be greying. It flowed down his face, stopping just above his shoulders. He was a Breton, though it was difficult to tell. He possessed a gaunt face, more common amongst mer or Imperials. And his skin was very pale, like that of a Nord's. His ears were slightly pointed, similar to an Altmer and his hair seemed wiry like that of a Redguard's. Though the Breton in him was there. His jaw was more rounded out, his nose was more upturned and his forehead was larger than that of an Imperial's.

To be sure, the Knight appeared an amalgamation of all the races, excepting perhaps the Khajiit and Argonians, though Lucius half expected him to have a tail and blink sideways.
This was Sir Gwynden.

"Greetings." Said the Mayor, warmly but with a tint of sadness, "I welcome you to Oxcross Borough, though I wish it were under happier circumstances. I grieve for your loss, truly I do." The Mayor did not meet either Father's nor Lucius' eyes as he spoke. A sign of a weak or untrustworthy person, Father had always said.

"I too, am sorry. I would hope you would tell us of what happened at Grimdale Moor. I'm afraid you two are the only survivors." Sir Gwynden spoke with a deep, booming yet gentle voice. Unlike the Mayor, he met both their eyes when he spoke, and his own were filled with pity, sadness and kindness.

Father hesitated leaning heavily on the cane which had been given to him. His leg hurt him badly and he had refused magical healing.
"It was an attack milords. Orcs." He spoke slowly, six eyes were on him all the while. "One of their warbands came down from the Wrothgarians in the dead of night. They snuck into the centre of town before setting upon it. Looting and burning everything. Even the chapel wasn't safe milords, I saw it go up in flames myself. I only managed to get me and my son to safety because I was still awake, working in my forge."

Both the Mayor and Sir Gwynden looked troubled. The latter spoke,
"They snuck in you say? This is troubling indeed. Do you think-"

An old, tall (though certainly not as tall as Sir Gwynden), scrawny man in ragged white robes interrupted. Lucius had not seen him, he had been standing in the corner inconspicuously. As he got closer, Lucius noticed there was a white cloth tied around his eyes, he walked with a stick held out in front of him, but he moved rather gracefully nonetheless.

"Intelligence, Sir Knight." The Blind Man's long grey beard bobbed up and down as he spoke. "Surely you have heard the rumours? That the Orcs have been staging well planned, well executed attacks against settlement all across High Rock? That one of their number has proclaimed himself king of Orsinium?" The Robed Man stood straight as an arrow and not hunched over as would be expected of one as ancient as he looked. "The tales of a drunken farmer on market day you may think, but drunken farmers do not travel all across the Wrothgarians. And I have heard the same rumours from experienced rangers and mercenaries."
"What is your point Aeron?" The Mayor blurted.

"My point… is that our good King Eadwyre is a fool to hold Daggerfall to suspect, when his eyes should fall upon Orsinium. As the Scrolls have foretold."

"Choose your words carefully sage. They border on treason." Gwynden growled, all the sympathy in his eyes were gone, replaced by something else. Suspicion or hatred perhaps.

The Blind Man grunted and waved his hand, "No matter." He turned to Lucius and his vision would have bored into him, if he could see, alas, the man's eyes were covered by a white cloth. Lucius shuddered to think that there may have been gaping holes where his eyeballs should be.

"Tell us, what of the Order of the Hour? They have… they had a sizable presence in the town." Though the man was facing at the boy, it was clear he was speaking to Lucius' father.

"The King took them milord, he took them to his armies to fight Daggerfall."
Sir Gwynden looked uncomfortable. "The Order of the Hour is a religious order… King Eadwyre has no right to levy them from their Chapels."

"Indeed." The Blind Man said simply. "But I fear that these matters are not the concern of a blacksmith, and prophecy which entwines itself with these events is not the destiny of the Blacksmith's son." He smiled a smile which made Lucius feel uneasy. The Mayor looked mortified and Sir Gwynden, angry.
"No milords," said Father, "I believe good sir is correct. Me and my son make for Cyrodiil, my brother will take us in. We hope to barter passage on a ship at Wayrest." Father spoke in an unhappy tone, more than unhappy. Resignation. Reluctance.

Sir Gwynden calmed down, "I see. Please, allow me to grant you use of a carriage, it will get you there much more quickly than on foot."
"And you shall stay for today to rest, I shan't take 'no' for an answer." The Mayor intoned.

And so Lucius and his father stayed at Oxcross Borough for the day. Lucius spent the day speaking with Sir Gwynden and a few of his knights, he was even taught a few things with a sword. Father would have been proud had he seen, but Father remained in his chambers, resting his pained leg. And they set off at dawn the next day, travelling on a finely crafted carriage led by a pair of strong horses.




This post has been edited by TheBrume: Oct 15 2011, 03:58 PM