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 Thank you for your kind comments.

mALX Thank you. I originally wrote a few nightmares Lucius was to have, one of which featured him scrubbing floors and his uncle's muddy boots.

Grits I'm glad you liked my descriptions.

Chapter Thirteen: Squire
Late First Seed 3E 413

Uncle Antus seemed saddened by something. He sighed as he refolded the letter he had been reading for the last few minutes, though it seemed like days to Lucius.

“Your father asked me to induct you into the Knights of the Oak as a squire.” He said.
“That’s an excellent idea.” The count said, hopping up from his throne. “We always have need of more squires.” He sounded pleased, as if the entire notion had been his.
“I…” Uncle Antus began. Lucius froze, wondering what his next words would be, if he would be sent away or not. Time seemed to slow down as Uncle Antus finished his sentence. “Agree, my lord.” Lucius released an audible sigh of relief. “Lucius, I would be glad to allow you to join our knighthood. Come, I will escort you to your new quarters.” He paused and looked around the room. “Where are your things?”
“We travelled with very little my lord.” Argentil spoke up. “We lost most of our things during the shipwreck.”
Uncle Antus shook his head. “I shall make sure you get new clothes Lucius. As for you two-”
“Argentil was it?” The count seemed to notice the Altmer for the first time. “I find myself in need of a castle mage, you seem capable enough. Would you like the position?”
“I… would be honoured, my lord.” Argentil replied. Lucius found it strange that he had never known why Argentil was on the Necrom Burning. He decided to ask him at a later time.

“And you, sir knight.” The count continued, pleased with himself. “I would like to reward you for your service to our newest squire. Please, name it.”
Sir Hector looked abashed. “I require no reward my lord. I must leave Chorrol soon, for the Imperial City as I have been made the representative of my knightly order to the Emperor.”
“A high ranking position to be sure. Your selflessness is to be admired. I hope young Lucius will take note of this for when he is knighted.” The count smiled. “But please, stay for dinner at least.”

-

Lucius followed his uncle through the castle for a short while. He was led to a long, well lit room with beds, chests and closets enough for six people. tThree beds on the left, three on the right. Each bed had an accompanying closet and chest. At the far end of the room was a round table, ten chairs and a bookshelf.

“You will be sharing this room with some of the other new squires who are supposed to arrive later today. Choose a bed, I will get you some new clothes to change into. You should wait in here until the rest of the squires arrive.” Lucius chose the first bed on the right and sat down on it.
“You aren’t supposed to have a sword you know.” Uncle Antus said, just as he was about to turn and leave. Lucius gripped his father’s sword tighter in response.
Uncle Antus looked thoughtful. “Keep it hidden.” He said as he left.

Antus did not return. Instead a Khajiit entered with a large pile of clothing which he placed on the bed Lucius was sat upon.
“The knight-commander says to wear these.” He said, handing Lucius a pile of clothes. After the Khajiit left, Lucius quickly dressed himself in the assigned clothing. It mostly fit, though he had to keep pulling up his trousers and his boots were a little big. On top of the clothes pile which the Khajiit left was a small bag of coins. Lucius threw the coins into his chest (within which there was a brass key) and locked it. He then set about putting the clothing away. Afterwards he thought about investigating the bookshelf but was interrupted by the door opening.

“You’re a squire too? So am I. Not by choice of course. My parents think bashing peoples heads in with maces is more important than anything else.” A brown haired human boy had marched into the room, shouldering a pack, full of his possessions. “Sorry.” He said. “I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Armand Sagax. I’m a half Breton, which no doubt accounts for my magic ability, from my mother of course. I failed to inherit my father’s Imperial people skills however. I have no use for people skills anyway.” He yawned and placed his pack on the bed by the bookshelf.

“I am Lucius Andronicus.” Lucius said simply. Armand picked his pack up again and began to open it as he did so, the bottom burst and his belongings tumbled out. There were many books in the pile of the boy’s things.
“I like books.” He explained as he set about picking his things up.

The door opened again. This time, a Nord and a Dunmer walked in. They looked similar to each other. They had the same round face and long nose. Of course, their eyes were different, the Nord’s were blue and the elf’s were red, as was their hair, blonde and black, respectively. But beyond that, they looked strikingly similar. “Roliand,” the Dunmer held out his hand to Lucius, “Delos,” said the Nord, he too offered his hand.
“I’m Lucius Andronicus.” Lucius said, shaking both hands at once, awkwardly. “You are… cousins?” He asked them.
“Twins.” They both said. Lucius frowned.
“Our father was a Dark Elf,” the Nord explained. “Our ma was a Nord.” Said, the elf. “The mages call us a freak of nature, because we are a different race born from the same mother. At the same time.” Delos the Nord continued.
“They thought it would be funny to give us the name of the other race.” Said the dark elf, rolling his eyes.

The pair walked away to introduce themselves to Armand then, leaving Lucius thoroughly confused. Though he had little time to try and work it out as the door opened yet again, another Nord this time. A girl. A fact which Lucius was surprised by, he didn’t know girls could be knights. She had shoulder length golden blonde hair and icy blue eyes. Her skin was a pale white. Lucius had seen few Nords, none of them were like this. A walking stereotype, Argentil would say. She saw Lucius staring at her, mouth slightly agape.
“Elise.” She said. Her voice was high pitched, but not annoyingly so.
“Andronicus.” He responded. “Lucius Andronicus.”

Before he could continue their exchange, the door flew open and created a loud bang as it struck the wall.
“Sorry.” A voice squeaked. An Imperial shuffled in. “I didn’t think the door would be so light.” He then made his way towards one of the two remaining beds.
“I’m Antony. Antony Sintav.” He began arranging some of his things.

Lastly, came a dark haired Imperial boy, he walked with confidence and a grin on his face. He approached and spoke to Lucius first.
“My name is Amiel of Solitude. My father is the jarl of that city. You are?”
“Lucius. My father was knight, then a smith. My uncle is a knight-commander.”
“Ah, no doubt you will receive special treatment yes? I hope I do too. I’m twenty seventh in line to become Emperor.” He said, taking pride in the fact.

Lucius was slightly impressed. “Have you met him? The emperor?” Lucius had never seen the emperor, except on coins. He had been rarely spoken about in Grimdale Moor, except when stories were told during celebrations about how he was kidnapped by an evil wizard.
Amiel’s smile diminished slightly. “No.” He admitted, “But I hope to do so soon, I have heard he is planning a visit to Chorrol in a few months.”

Lucius spoke to each of the others shortly after they entered. He was sure that he would get along well with everyone, even Amiel despite his arrogance.

A little while after everyone arrived, a Redguard man in chain mail with a sword at his hip entered the room.
“What’s this?” Everybody looked at him, confused. “I see only one person in the appropriate clothing.” He pointed at Lucius. “Get yourselves changed.” He continued.
Armand picked up the ‘appropriate’ clothing and made for the door. The Redguard stood in his way.

“In here.” He said, dryly.
“With other people!?” Armand asked, horrified. The Redguard nodded curtly and began surveying the room with his eyes. Lucius followed them with his own. The Merete the Nord was already stripping off. Armand still looked frozen in horror and the twins were looking at everyone else, uncomfortably. Ardian stood where he was and Amiel was under the bed sheets, presumably having figured out a way to change without people seeing him.

Lucius was wondering what the problem was, do they not have underwear in the rest of Tamriel? He answered his own question when his gaze happened to pass over Elise. A firm ‘no’ from Skyrim. In his haste to avert his eyes, he spotted Delos. A firm ‘no’ from Morrowind, or wherever he was from. The others, Imperials, were wearing underwear, but Lucius didn’t look for long anyway, instead, he stared at the ceiling.
It was a good ceiling. Plain in colour, but it had a multitude of cracks running across it, good to look at if lying awake at night, he decided.

-

Eventually, everybody had changed into the appropriate clothing. The Redguard had relented and allowed Armand to change in another room, but nobody else. It seemed that Armand did have a way with people after all. A bad way. An unfriendly way. But a way nonetheless.

Once everyone was assembled, the Redguard barked at them to tidy their beds and put their clothes away. Lucius received some praise (though little more than an approving nod, rather than words) for having already done so. Armand received extra barks for taking so long. He seemed to want everything perfect and arranged in a certain order. It infuriated the Redguard, who had yet to name himself.

Once that was done, he led them out of the room and through the castle to the throne. There were another ten children, presumably squires, already waiting. The count and countess were there, and so was Lucius’ uncle and a few other knightly looking fellows.

“You children,” the count began. “Are to be squires within the Knights of the Oak. You will become knights. You will be trained in swordsmanship, horsemanship and a few other ‘manships’” The count chuckled to himself, the countess looked at him disapprovingly and sighed. “Your lessons start tomorrow. I will see you later.”