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]

Acadian Thanks, its rather nice to be back. I do hope I'm able to move him out of his boyish... I want to say 'phase' but I don't really think one could call childhood a 'phase' so I'll just say; boyish-ness when the time comes (which may or may not be soon).

Grits Thanks. I like Argentil too, he's the only one of the characters based on an actual in game character whom I've roleplayed. Funny you should mention swordsmen.

mALX I know what you mean about Skyrim. I love the game's lore, so I like to put it in my story (though I will be... bending it slightly in chapters to come). It's good to meet someone with a similiar sense of humour.

Chapter Seven: Swords And Stuff or To Be A Knight. Whichever Title You Happen To Find More Appropriate. Personally, I Prefer The Former For The Comical Value, But I Suppose Others Would Prefer The Latter. I Guess It's Kind Of More Fitting. I'm Rambling Now Though And This Title Has Stretched On For Long Enough. On With The Show.

Please hold while we try and get this disaster of a chapter fixed. Someone will be with you momentarily. While you wait, please consider typing "elevator music" into Google for some entertaining tunes!
Thank you for your patience.

Chapter Seven.
*******

Thwack
The sound of a wooden sword impacting into Lucius' body was familiar now. And so was the accompanying pain. It was like a thunder and lightening relationship, the strike and the pain. The lightening (sword) would strike first. Followed by the thunder (pain) which came a few seconds later, without fail, sometimes worse than the last.

Lucius and Karrod had convinced one of the other passengers, a man named Hector, to teach them how to use a sword. It was an effective, if painful and exhausting, way to pass time on the ship. The waves and whales had long ago lost their novelty value to Lucius.

His trainer, Hector, had come aboard the Necrom Burning at Northpoint. So far, he had revealed very little about himself, though Lucius thought he was a knight. When he first boarded the ship, the man was wearing armour and heraldry that could only be owned by a knight. Lucius did not recognize the coat of arms however, and Lucius liked to think he could name every coat of arms in High Rock as he had owned a book on the knightly orders of the Illiac Bay once, which meant that the knight was either not from High Rock or there had been a new order founded in the seven years since the book was printed.

Thud
Karrod's sword slammed into Lucius' shield this time, though his arm still throbbed. The Redguard was younger than Lucius (Lucius had turned ten only a few days ago, with little celebration) though he was definitely stronger. Lucius had only won a few of their bouts. Most of his victories were won through some sort of trick, the rest were blind luck.

One time, Lucius had feigned a broken arm, when Karrod had let his guard down Lucius struck at the Redguard's thigh and tapped him on the helm. When Lucius had attempted the same trick the next day, he received a bruised wrist for his troubles.

The pair had been beating each other with wooden swords for a few days now, almost everyday, weather and Argentil permitting. When they were with Argentil they learned about menial things such as history, Argentil's magic tutoring seemed to come less often and his attempt to bore his "students" to death seemed to be coming close to success. All the while, the Necrom Burning continued on her voyage, she was sailing on calm seas and taking on a lot of goods as she approached the rich trading ports of Morrowind.

Ouch, was all Lucius could think when he found himself lying face first on the ship's deck. Karrod had once again got the best of him.
"That's enough for now." Hector said as he hopped down from the barrel which he always sat upon while observing the boys lash out at each other. He always seemed to know what the boys were doing, even though he always had his nose in a book and rarely watched his pupils.
"Come over here you two." He said as he crouched down so as to be at eye level. Lucius dragged himself over to where Karrod was smugly standing.

"What does it take to be a great warrior?" Hector asked, looking between the two children. "Swords and… stuff." Lucius said. It was the first thing that popped into his mind. Hector told him what he thought of that answer with a disappointed stare.
"A warrior should be strong, of course and disciplined. You should not reveal your intentions to you enemy. Do not interrupt him while he is making his mistakes. Simply hit hard and hit fast. To be a warrior is a rather simple thing. To be a knight, however, is far more complicated." He paused and looked at his students, unsmiling. "It is not the sword that makes a knight, but the wielder of the sword. A knight is nothing without chivalry. To protect the weak and innocent is what it means to be a knight. It is better for a knight to die with honour than live without it." He looked into Lucius' eyes. "Honour, valour, compassion, fortitude, altruism, mercy, diligence, integrity among others. These are the virtues of the knight. For a knight to disregard these virtues is a sin in the eyes of both the Nine and all true knights."

Karrod looked confused by what Hector had said, perhaps because he did not understand the concept or perhaps he had no idea why Hector was speaking of knightly virtues. Lucius understood the former, but he too had no idea why the man was speaking of all things knightly.

Lucius and Karrod continued with their session after that, with Hector taking a more active role. He showed them various stances. Lucius felt that he was improving, while he still wasn't winning, he was lasting longer in their bouts and even managed to give Karrod one or two bruises.



This post has been edited by TheBrume: Jan 31 2012, 04:50 PM