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]

mALX Yep, that was the melody I had in mind for it. But, I didn't think I had written the ship wreck scene all that clearly, thanks for dispelling those doubts.

Acadian Thank you. Why do you people always make me blush?

Grits Thanks. I don't feel that I've put enough into Lucius' father's personality. Originally, I was going to have him go missing in chapter one, then I pushed it back to chapter two, then I was going to have him die of infection... And now this.

jack cloudy Well, you'll find out in a few chapters . Lucius could read in chapter three and he did trick Argentil. I disagree about your assessment. Nine year olds can be rather tricky, especially in groups.

I think I've hit some kind of wall in my writing (I've written up to chapter seventeen), so updates might slow down a teeny tiny bit in the coming weeks.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one.


Chapter Ten: The Lord Advancing
First Seed 3E 413

After Lucius awoke, he spent three days in Fort Saltmoth while learning about what happened after he was thrown into the sea. He also learned that he had been unconscious for almost two weeks.

As it turned out, an Imperial Navy ship had been nearby when the Necrom Burning was attacked. The ship, which was called the Emperor Antiochus, saw the burning wreckage and managed to rescue some of the passengers and crew, unfortunately, Lucius' father was not among those clinging to pieces of wreckage in the freezing water. Lucius himself had been dragged onto a large piece of flotsam by a Bosmer woman. He had the opportunity to thank his rescuer. "Don't thank me." She had said, "Thank whatever poor sod won't be getting the piano they ordered."

Fort Saltmoth was an Imperial fort, situated where the river Thir met the Inner Sea, just across the water from Ebonheart. Lucius had wanted to explore the towers and fortifications of the fort, but the Imperial Legionnaires stopped him from straying too far. Being at Fort Saltmoth was Lucius' first experience of imperial authority, it seemed the Emperor rarely passed his gaze over Grimdale Moor. There had been a small Legion garrison in the foothills a few miles to the north of the village, but Orcs were common in that area so Lucius had never seen their outpost.

"High Rock," Argentil explained, "is a relatively secure Imperial province, the Emperor has little need to station Imperial ground forces there, of course, the Navy has a strong presence to deal with corsairs and the like, but otherwise there is little threat to the Empire's integrity there. The Dunmer are a proud people, they have a heathen religion and backwards customs. Despite their high level of autonomy, few of them submit to the Septims as readily as the Bretons."

All in all, Lucius was impressed by the fort, despite his grief. It stood out as a beacon of authority and it could be seen from miles away. It's tall granite towers thrust upwards above the alien trees of Morrowind. It's heavy woollen black and red imperial banners flew high above the ugly brown cloth things at the nearby village.

He was impressed by the Legionnaires too, they were clad in steel. A dark chest piece with two horses facing each other. Lucius didn't quite understand the design, he thought dragons would make more sense, but it looked nice. They marched and moved as one and all of them were strong and fierce.

Lucius spent much of his time thinking. He often thought about his parents, he often cried. He occasionally thought about his friends on the ship, but he never once asked about them as he feared what the answer would be. Though he hoped they had been among the many people who had survived, but had already left the fort.
Argentil and Hector spent their time in a room together, speaking in hushed (sometimes loud) tones. Lucius knew they were planning on how they should get to Chorrol. From what he managed to pick up, Hector wanted to go by land, across the Velothi mountains and through Cheydinhal. Lucius wasn't sure what Argentil wanted, but he assumed it was something magical.
In the end though, Hector won the argument and so, three days after Lucius woke up, they began their journey towards Cyrodiil.

Lucius was sat on a chair which had been placed in the harrowed out carapace of an enormous insect. Apart from Lucius, Hector and Argentil, there were few other passengers, a pair of Dunmer women who were seated at the rear end of the insect, known as a Silt Strider, and a fidgety Argonian who sat as far away from everyone else as possible. The interior of the carapace was spacious, it was high enough for Lucius to stand without hitting his head, though the same could not be said of Argentil. There were even a few holes in the chitinous shell to act as windows.

Lucius sat in silence, listening to Argentil prattle on about the history of Dark Elf magic. Hector was sleeping.
"In the two hundredth year of the third era, Olvis Drenalym discovered a way to turn iron into silver and silver into gold. Now, Olvis' island happened to be rich in iron, so he set his people to work. He began to get rather rich, of course, his actions had consequences, as the influx of silver into the markets caused prices to fall. To fix this, he turned the silver to gold. This, however, made the problem worse, causing the Great Monetary Collapse of 3E 215. The Imperial economy remained in shambles throughout the rest of the reign of Uriel IV and afterwards…"

Overall, the journey proved to be incredibly boring, the town of Balfalls came and went and the days crawled by.
It was four days before the Silt Strider reached it's destination. Four days which Lucius spent listening to Argentil go over history which he had probably told Lucius of before (there couldn't be that much of it, in his mind). When he wasn't listening, he was thinking. Thinking about his parents. His mother was dead, he knew that. But was his father? No body had ever been found. He promised himself he would look for his father one day, perhaps he would search after he reached Chorrol. Thinking about it brought sadness though. And sadness brought tears.
And the tears continued for hours at a time


"Loganstead." Argentil said as he sauntered down the stone ramp leading up to the giant insect. "Quite a strange town don't you think?" It was. There was a curious mix of Nordic, Imperial and Dunmeri architecture. Square plain brown stone houses sat next to elaborate wooden ones with carved animals on them. The Imperial Chapel with it's tall stone spire was placed right next to the chitinous shell structure of the Dunmer Temple. It was a strange town, but pretty in it's own way.
"They could have gone with a more consistent style, but I like this." The mage said as he began to walk towards a large stone building.
"Where are we going now?" Lucius asked and looked at Hector.
"Mages Guild." He said. "We shall be teleporting to Cheydinhal from here. It will shorten our journey considerably. Much safer than fending off troll attacks in the Velothis." He shot a look towards Hector, who did not meet his gaze.


The Altmer seemed happy as he entered the guild. When Lucius stepped through the threshold he was struck by dozens of strange smells. He could name none of them and he had only smelt a few before, he could not help but pinch his nose. Argentil walked up to a front desk, behind which a bored looking dark elf woman was staring into space.

"Hello." The woman said, monotonously. "Welcome to the Loganstead Mages Guild, the happiest place on Nirn." She stared at the three travellers, her gaze lingering on each of them for a few seconds before moving on.
"Yes, quite. Now, could you direct us to your guild guide please."
The woman lifted her left arm and pointed to her right. "Have a nice day." She sighed and returned to staring at her desk.

The trio came upon a small alcove with a large ring on the floor beside which an Argonian in green robes was standing. He stared at them, but said nothing.

"Now, will you be needing anything while we're here Hector?" Argentil turned and asked. Hector was silent for a moment. "Yes. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes." At that, he turned and moved to another part of the guild.
"Stay here Lucius, I'm going to buy a few books. The journey to Chorrol is a long one and you'll need something to entertain yourself with."

So Lucius was left on his own with nobody but the unblinking Argonian for company. Lucius waited and tried to whistle (he quickly gave up and began humming instead) while studying the walls. They were whitewashed with a few tapestries for decoration. The tapestries were of the birthsigns, Lucius was drawn to his own sign, The Lord. He remembered an old song his mother used to sing to him, and began to hum the tune.

Strong, the Warrior charges,
The Steed prancing,
The Lord advancing,
The Lady dancing,
Through the night.

Wise, the Mage orders,
The Apprentice learning,
The Ritual turning,
The Atronach burning,
Through the night.

Clever, the Thief watches,
The Lover sighing,
The Shadow lying,
The Tower defying,
Through the night.

Just as he finished humming, both Hector and Argentil returned from whatever they were doing. "Ready?" Argentil asked, "Good."

"You there," he said to the Argonian. "I would like to pay for three people to get to Cheydinhal please." The Argonian nodded and took the offered coins. Hector was the first to stand on the ring, he disappeared in a flash of blue light.
"Give him time to get off the panel Lucius." Argentil said, holding his shoulder "We wouldn't want you to end up inside of him." After a few moments Argentil tapped him on the back and Lucius strode forward.
The sensation of teleporting was like nothing else Lucius had ever experienced. He could not move his limbs, but he felt like he was being thrown a great distance. He vomited a few seconds before the feeling ended.

He appeared in the Cheydinhal Mages Guild with a flash of blue light. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees. When he looked up he saw his breakfast all over the room he was in. The petite Imperial woman who had been standing closest to the ring was covered in vomit, she was shaking and after a few moments, started to scream in disgust.

"Oh my…" He heard Argentil say as he appeared behind him.

*******


This post has been edited by TheBrume: Feb 8 2012, 04:55 PM