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. I confused even myself with the twins, I hope I didn't confuse anyone else too much.

Grits Thanks. I really enjoyed the latest of Jerric's Story and I hope you do decide to do a book two!

jack cloudy Thank you. Read on and see how the uncle thinks.


Chapter Fourteen: Thoughts and Feelings
Late Last Seed 3E 313


What am I to do? My nephew is within these very walls, he is to be a knight. I find myself angry and grief striken at his presence.

I had hoped I could forgive. I prayed I could forget. But I have not forgotten and I have not forgiven. I feel torn. I want to hate, but I cannot. Lucius is an innocent and of my blood. But I feel uncomfortable around him, his eyes are the same bright blue as… hers. He has her hair too, the same sandy blonde. Whenever I see him he reminds me of her and of all that I could have had. Should have had.

And now he must live the life my brother was supposed to. And I can’t help but feel that it should be my son in this castle, that I should be dead and that Titus should be here writing this. But he is not, I am.
He wrote me a letter. I do not wish to recount what he wrote but, one day, I will have to. Lucius must be told. It is only right that he know what happened and why it happened. But not yet. Not yet.

Right now, he must work. He must be pushed hard. I have spent little time with him, but if he is his father’s son then, as much as I hate to say, he could be a great knight. It pains me, but I must be the one to push him. No matter how much grief it causes, it is my burden to bear.
He is my nephew. I hate him for his father. And yet I love him for his mother.

What am I to do?


Epilogue: Knighthood 101
The last day of First Seed. 3E 413

“A knight should be chivalrous.” The old scholar began. “Without chivalry a knight is a simply mercenary.” The wrinkled old man had been speaking for a while now, he spoke in a different way from Argentil, Lucius felt more inclined to stay awake.
“But what is chivalry. Antony?” He asked, staring, waiting for an answer.

“Bravery.” The boy replied. The old man looked thoughtful.
“What else. Elise?”
“Loyalty.” She said.
“Loyalty to whom?” He asked.
“The… grandmaster?” The old man shook his head. “Count? Emperor? Empire? Gods?” She continued, each answer becoming more desperate.
“Certainly, a knight must be loyal to all those things, including the grandmaster. But also to the people. Mostly to the people.” He looked at the assembled squires. “Lucius, if the count ordered you to slay the emperor, would you do it?”
Lucius hesitated. Would he? Probably not. Should he? He wasn’t sure. “No.” He replied at last.
“Correct. But if the count asked you to slay a group of bandits, you would do so?”
“Yes.” He replied, more quickly his time.
“And what if the people asked you to kill the count? What if the count was mad? What if he killed people everyday?”
Lucius was not sure, he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“Yes. You should. The people are those that the knight should protect, at the expense of everyone else. The count is not our master. We must be loyal to him, but not at the expense of the people. To go against the people is to be a common cut throat. The blades protect the Emperor. The Temple Knights protect the gods and the castle guard protect the count. You, future knights, protect the common man.”

“Furthermore,” he continued. “In order to guide you through your lives, you are expected to adhere to seven knightly virtues. These are what make you a knight. To disregard them is to disregard your duty and to go against what it means to be a knight.” The old man looked at each of the faces staring up at him.

“Honour. Defend your own and protect those of your friends and family. Do not cheat, to do so is a stain upon your own.

Valour. Be brave, do not shirk from a battle. Remember, courage on the battlefield is not the absence of fear, but the strength and determination to overcome it. However, d not allow your valour to stand in the way of the next virtue.

Wisdom. Do not enter a battle which you cannot win. Retreat to fight another day. Outwit your opponents and remember that your mind is your most powerful weapon. Keep it sharp and you shall win every engagement.

Integrity. Be truthful and consistent in your values and beliefs. To lie or hide the truth is another stain upon your honour.

Charity. Show mercy to your enemies whenever appropriate. Be kind to those less fortunate. You must be willing to make sacrifices for the greater good.”

Temperance. Control yourself in combat, let your enemy make his mistakes in peace. Restrain yourself off the battlefield too, do not surrender yourself to selfish desires.

Faith. Trust in yourself, trust in your brothers and sisters in arms. Trust in the Nine.

*******

End of Part One: Flight

*******

I'm going to continue with part two the next time I update. The next part will begin on Lucius' thirteenth birthday. So, yes, I will be skipping a sizable portion of his life. But ages ten through twelve are boring! Thirteen through to twenty provide more... everything! Comedy, romance, drama et cetera.
Also, I'm going to take a short break from this story (two weeks max). I've hit some sort of brick wall and I'm going to take some time to think it over. I've found that writing short stories helps break this wall down. I wrote a few short stories in January when I had no idea what to write for this. It helped a lot. So I think I'll do the same thing this time.