The Infirmary
I awoke in the infirmary with a splitting headache and a vicious pain in my nose.
“Ah, young lord, you are awake” a nearby acolyte came over to his bedside. “Please,” she implored as I made to sit up, “Do not rise yet young lord. The injury is serious and you need to give yourself some time to rest.” I tried to push through the agony but ended up not having the resolve and decided it was better to lay back down.
The pretty acolyte pulled a pale of water from nearby over and dipped a ladle, drawing water and helping me to take a drink. “Young lord, you must be much more careful in training,” she said quietly. “I know you want to work hard to become a knight, but you’ll never get there if you bash your own brains in!” she scolded reproachfully.
“Ah… What do you know, acolyte Jordan? All of you, those priests and priestesses and acolytes just spend all your time looking at books, sniffing stinky herbs, and scolding us during lessons! A boy who does not work hard cannot become a squire, and a squire who does not work even harder than that cannot become a knight!” I shrieked with all of the confidence - and volume - that nine year old's all over the world are known for.
“You know that young lords have to spend almost as much time as the temple students with their noses in the books… right Zerial?” Jordan asked him hesitantly. I made a face at her and she made one back at me, sticking out her tongue.
“No way Jordan!" I screeched back at her, disbelief written all over my face.
“Yes way! You young lords need to know how to manage estates, mathematics to balance a budget, speak diplomatically, read and write, calligraphy and so much more!” Jordan said sternly. My face grew more and more dismayed as the list grew and then I scrunched my eyebrows.
“How do you know all that! I bet you’re just trying to trick me so that ill learn about stinky herbs like you. Stinky Jordan!” I hollered and immediately regretted it as my head reminded me that a few minutes ago I had been unconscious. Jordan had to refrain from laughing - I had definitely broken my nose and even though it had been set he still sounded even squeakier than usual.
“I know this because I am older - and smarter - Zerial!” Jordan crowed triumphantly, forgetting that she was speaking to the heir of the estate and discarding all lessons of propriety.
“Older pfah!” I made a raspberry with my mouth, “You’re only three years older than me! That isn’t a lot!”
“Is to!”
“NO- ow!”
“Hah! Stop shouting blockhead, you’re gonna cause even more pain!”
Jordan and I glared at each other.
“Hmm… Acolyte Jordan, do you really think you should be shouting at the young master like this?” a voice as dry as sand spoke from the doorway.
“Eep!” gasped and went bright red before spinning around and facing Master Scholar Tika. “M-m-m-m” Jordan stuttered, flush with terror. Speaking familiarly to minor nobility could be punishable in a manner of uncomfortable or harsh ways. At this moment I knew Jordan was terrified for her life, position, and physical self. I didn't think Master Scholar Tika would do anything other than lightly scold her, but she did not know the man as well as I did yet.
Like me, Jordan was an orphan. A lot of the children around the fortress and monastery were children taken in by the generosity of Gerald… Only one was lucky enough to be adopted by the widower personally - my own dashing and handsome self.
“Master Scholar Tika, please don’t blame acolyte Jordan. It was my fault for getting her riled up and calling her names,” I came to Jordan's defense in a subdued voice. Tika looked at me with a piercing gaze for what seemed like an eternity… before sighing.
“I know, Zerial. I heard the whole thing. But if Jordan wishes to become a priestess or Mistress of Scholars one day, she needs to learn just as much - maybe even more! - than you do,” Tika considered Jordan for a few more minutes as she trembled with bright tears in her eyes. "And one of those things she needs to learn is how to show the same patience and temperance with nobility as she does working with stinky herbs."
“This week you will review lessons on how to act around nobility. This includes minor nobility, major nobility, and royals as punishment,” Tika stated calmly seconds before Jordan was about to burst into tears. He didn’t mention that watching her pensively for so long and bringing her so close to a total breakdown was also a part of the punishment levied against her.
“Y-y-yes Master T-t-Tika,” Jordan stuttered out, wiping her eyes and trying her best to regain composure and shooting me a look that was both grateful and accusatory at the same time.
“You will begin now. Go to the scriptorium and begin,” Tika continued as if she hadn’t spoken before sweeping past her and going over to my bedside.
“You, Young Master Zerial, will face a different punishment,” Tika spoke as he took a wooden chair next to the boy and sat. I faced him with trepidation in my heart. Even though he was the adopted son of a knight banneret, he could expect no special treatment from Master Tika - who had also raised Gerald and several other people. Rumor had it he had even taught the current Duke and Duchess of Hexenguard! He would not be impressed by whatever a nine-year-old could offer.
“Jordan, though impolitic and incautious as her words were, was not wrong about your education and I believe it is high time we began. After your training has completed, you will gather your dinner and meet me and Jordan both in the scriptorium,” Tika said with all the grave seriousness of a funeral dirge.
I felt like I had just been poleaxed by the spear-masters training weapon. Learning?! Reading?! WRITING?! “Master Tika… surely we can begi-'' I began to say in my smoothest, calmest, silkiest voice only to be interrupted by Tika.
“Master Scholar Tika, boy. Thank you for highlighting the issues even more, as if we needed that. I will see you there, now be quiet and let me take a look at that nose of yours,” Tika leaned forward and came nose to nose with me, making me go cross eyed as I focused on Tika's huge and long nose.
“Hmmm… I suppose I should let this heal naturally, as it would help reinforce the lesson you learned today… But I think you will remember to focus next time… and you are only nine years old so it is expected that you will be a little air-headed…” Tika shook the long sleeve of his robe over his hand and I perked up. Master Scholar Tika was about to use the sacred arts - Magic.
Tika flexed his hand and began to breathe in a very peculiar way by taking deep and steady long breaths in, holding his breath, and releasing over the same period of time before pausing at the bottom of his cycle. Tika continued to do this while holding his hand just to the side of my face.
Although I couldn’t see anything happen, I knew that something was. Even then I knew that the Sacred Arts presented in one of two ways. Overt magic was an effect, not the actual spell so if you could see something happening it was because it was a generated effect - like a fireball. What Master Scholar Tika was doing was called subtle magic - like healing. The magic itself could not be seen without mage sight but its effects could be beneficial or devastating. There was not truly a difference between the two but it did mean that there were a lot of charlatans out there who pretended to do magic while actually just breathing funnily.
Gradually my head began to pound less and my nose felt less painful until eventually it was just a faint ache in both my head and on my nose. Master Scholar Tika looked a little tired and energized at the same time - a common effect of 'utilizing the world’s life blood to effect change' as Master Scholar Tika put it.
As always, I was amazed, fascinated, and let down by the lack of visible effects. The desire to learn the Sacred Art was very tempting - but to do so I would have to abandon my claim to the lands that Gerald managed, as it was religious law in Pervalia that those who studied the Sacred Arts were not permitted political ambition. The College of Sacred Arts and Magery stood as one of the Royal Pillars of Society, helping to balance the power disparity between the Royal Military, the Ducal military, The Nobel Society, and the Council of Merchants who were the other cornerstones of society.
But I felt then that my destiny lay in becoming a Knight and nothing would stop me!
“Thank you, Master Scholar Tika,” I cried, climbing out of bed and bowing low to the tired master. “With your permission, I would like to resume my lessons now!”
“Go, go Young Master Zerial. Try to focus this time!” Tika spoke to the boys retreating back. I halted at the doorway of the infirmary, turned and bowed low - not something nobles usually do - before scuttling out. Tika allowed himself a small smile before heaving his creaky joints out of the chair. It was getting harder to move around these days - the man was nearly 200 years old this autumn.
Agile Valley
Agile valley is the heart of the Hart feif, and it's position at roughly the center of the territory controlled and managed by Lord Gerald Hart caused it to prosper accordingly. My adoptive father had a good head for the management of estates - or at least he hired enough good people to help the estate run itself. Either way, Agile Valley had four cornerstones that allowed it to prosper and project my fathers might from beyond the borders.
One of those things just happened to be the training grounds, the headquarters of the Chivalric Order of Hart Knights. I may be biased a little here, but it was my firm belief that Hexenguardian Knights are the cream of the crop in any land and the Chivalric Order of Hart Knights was the cream of the cream. This particular chapter was headed by Knight Commander Roderick, a tough old son-of-a-bitch who stood at an even 6 feet four inches and weighed around 220 pounds of raw muscle and fury. The man was a slave driver, and more ornery than a tomcat fighting a rival pussy. But he knew what he was doing, and he did it very well.
The headquarters of Hart Knights occupied one of three elevated positions and one of the two easy entrances into Agile Valley. The primary structure was the original residence of the first Lord Hart, who constructed the keep on one of three major foot-hills surrounding Agile Valley. Engineers had, over the decades of it's construction, reinforced the stone-and-dirt topsoil, cutting terraces into the hillside and reinforcing them with rough dressed mage-melded stone. Successive lords had added to the fortification until it was a multi-leveled monstrosity of an ugly fortress visible from anywhere in the valley, a sign of stability and dominance to the nearby town - also cleverly named Agile. My adoptive fathers ancestors were as imaginative as they were tough.
However, despite the age of the castle Hart, this valley had occupants long before dad's ancestors came to town. They inhabited the Ad Astra Monastery, a mixture between a religious order and scholarly compound. It sat directly across the valley from Hart castle and had it's own, admittedly less impressive, fortifications. The Monastery consisted of several buildings - A temple, the Scriptorium, the Hall of Stars, and several residential and ancillary buildings as well as everything else needed to run a massive compound of monks, priests, priestesses, acolytes, and mages.
The final massive construction, where Lord Hart ruled as Knight Banneret to the Domain of the Heart - again, my ancestors were not well known for their bardic talents and impressive wordplay - was another fortress, this one relatively modern and positively massive. Financed by the ducal coffers some hundred years ago, the structure was given over to the domain and originally built to safeguard against aggressive expansion from our neighbors to the west, Aurelia. The structure absolutely dwarfed all other edifices in the area. Three keeps, seven curtain walls, multiple gate-houses, a forest of guard towers, and sheer cliffs on both sides of the pass it guarded made the structure neigh impossible to take from either end. Adding to it's natural defenses were it's active defenders - more than ten thousand soldiers operated from inside of the fortress - and it's mage population was very high thanks to the presence of Ad Astra and the natural tendencies of the residents of Agile Valley to propagate magical talent in their progeny.
And if that wasn't enough to deter Aurelia, the Archmage - Master Scholar Tika - in residence at Ad Astra surely didn't help their equations any.
I sprinted back into the training area known generally as “The Sands”, skidding over to the practice weapons rack and yanking a training spear. The sands is where professional military recruits for the chivalric order of the hart as well as the men-at-arms for the Heart domain are trained. The facilities consisted of the barracks, divided into permanent staff and recruit housing, a dining facility, a training hall with several class rooms attached, the armory, the well-house, the butts, and several ancillary sheds and buildings all surrounded by a 4 foot thick, 20 foot tall crenelated wall. It existed as an addition to the original castle hart that dad's ancestors built here centuries ago.
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“Ah, Knight Commander, he’s back already,” one of the man-at-arms called out to Roderick, who was supervising some shaking recruits that were in a low 90° squat with their arms outstretched holding their weighted training spears.
“Good - Sergeant let the Lord know,” Sir Roderick called out to the man-at-arms who took off wordlessly. “BOY!” Roderick shouted out, finally turning away from the recruits after flicking his hand. They collapsed wordlessly to the ground like puppets with their strings cut - Roderick would make them pay for such lack of discipline later.
“GET YOUR SKINNY-NO-COMMON-SENSE-CROSS-EYED-SOW OF AN ASS OUT HERE NOW!” Roderick's voice cracked like a crossbow across the yard and Zerial veritably blurred as he crossed the sands and skidded to a stop in front of the seething knight, coming to attention.
“RECRUIT ZERIAL, REPORTING AS ORDERED SIR!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my voice cracking amusingly. Still, Roderick showed not a ghost of a smile as he towered over my nine year old self.
“Zerial” Roderick said, suddenly clam making me break out into a cold sweat. “Point them out to me, and I will punish them,” Roderick said calmly, almost congenial in his delivery. His voice was a deep hoarse voice and it crackled like a fire. It sounded ghastly when used at such a low volume.
“SIR, THIS RECRUIT DOES NOT UNDERSTAND,” I screamed again, as if it were perfectly normal to scream at another person who was speaking in a normal volume. Roderick shook his head.
“Come now, recruit. Just point them out! The one who gave you the bad advice!,” Roderick said, looking over at the men-at-arms standing nearby. They smiled crookedly beneath their steel helmets, having been subjected to such tactics before - one of Roderick's favorites to use on younger recruits.
“You know… The one who told you it was an advisable strategy!” Roderick cried out a little louder, turning and stalking up and down the now reformed line of recruits facing me. “Surely you got it from someone!”
“SIR, THIS RECRUIT HAS NOT RECEIVED ADVICE TODAY FROM ANYONE EXCEPT KNIGHT RODERICK AND MASTER SCHOLAR TIKA” I cried out again, my voice losing volume in it’s uncertainty and from over-use.
“Oh! So it’s my fault?” Roderick asked, turning on a dime and stalking down the line in the opposite direction.
“NO SIR!” came my panicking reply.
“Oh! Then it was Master Scholar Tika?” Roderick nodded to himself before stopping in front of me.
“NO SIR!”
“Come now, surely someone gave you the advice!” Roderick continued, putting a hand on my shoulder, ignoring the shudder of fear that had coursed through my body at his touch.
“SIR, THIS RECRUIT DOES NOT KNOW WHAT ADVICE KNIGHT RODERICK IS SPEAKING OF”
“Oh, so you’re confused! Not to worry, that is very common with head injuries,” Roderick nodded sagely and then got close to my face with his own battle-scarred visage.
“The advice I mean, Recruit Zerial, is WHO TOLD YOU TO USE YOUR FUCKING FACE AS A BATTERING RAM INSTEAD OF KILLING THE GODS DAMNED WOOD AS YOU WERE INSTRUCTED,” Roderick finished, screaming so hard that he burst a blood vessel in his cheek from strain.
I was figuratively blown away from the sheer volume and unfairness of it - I had only made a simple mistake! Roderick didn’t need me to voice it aloud to know what was crossing my mind - Roderick had the same thought at one point many years ago during his own training in this very yard.
“KNIGHTS. DON'T. MAKE. MISTAKES,” Roderick’s voice cracked across the sand pits. “ONLY CONSCRIPTS, CIVILIANS, AND MEN AT ARMS MAKE MISTAKES RECRUIT. Are you a conscript?” Some of the men at arms looked at each other, failing to keep the shit-eating grins off of their faces. As if Knight Commander Roderick would allow men-at-arms to make mistakes. As far as they knew, Roderick didn’t even tolerate mistakes from anyone. Not civilians, nor conscripts.
I shook his head.
“Oh. Are you a civilian?”
“NO SIR!”
“Oh. Am I training a man-at-arms? Was I lied to about your prospects?”
“NO SIR, THIS RECRUIT IS DESTINED TO BECOME A KNIGHT!”
“Oh really? Do you know what I think you’re destined to do, based on your performance so far?” Roderick continued, turning to the side and continuing his pacing. He locked eyes with Gerald, who had come to see me, and paused for only half a second - Gerald nodded for him to continue without interruption. Snarling, Roderick turned and kicked my spear so hard that it shattered an inch above my fist, and then shoved me into the sand.
In full plate armor, no less, showing amazing dexterity and speed for a man wearing so much metal to move so accurately and so quickly. Roderick towered over the me, his foot landing a mere bare inch from my upturned face.
“I SEE A DEAD FUCKING RECRUIT, DROWNING IN THE PISS AND SHIT AND BLOOD AND MUD OF OTHER PATHETIC PEOPLE WHO DIED BECAUSE THEY MADE MISTAKES. GET THE FUCK UP,” Roderick turned and snarled at the even rows of recruits who had been watching the show - this lesson had been for them as much as was for me. If the Lord's son could get it that bad, what would happen to them?!
“I DON'T RECALL ASKING YOU TO TAKE A BREAK. RUN.” The recruits took off around the sands, desperately putting everything they had. I had rolled up from the ground as quickly as possible and took off at a desperate pace. Behind them they could hear the terrible clangor of Roderick sprinting along behind them, chasing them. Anyone who fell into his grasp would regret it.
As I ran, my headache came back full force from the blood pressure of sprinting full out. Every day was a new exercise in misery upon the sands. Every day my aches and pains, and those of my fellow recruits, grew and grew.
What Roderick was really teaching us young idiots was discipline and stress. What it felt like to be chased by a grown man wearing full plate and waving around a sharp steel sword was truly a terrifying experience. Each of us truly believed that if Roderick caught us and was unsatisfied, they would be beaten savagely at best - chopped up at worse! The thought of death looming over us young recruits would be drilled into them, day after day until they moved listlessly and automatically, obeying the commands of Roderick and their bodies' muscle memory without conscious effort.
It was hard, brutal, thorough training. And it was the easiest we would have it in the years to come.
The Scriptorium Ad Astra
The Scriptorium Ad Astra, or just the script house, is a well lit room within the Monastery Ad Astra - a religious building dedicated primarily to the worship and study of the cosmos. It was managed by a council composed of several important figures, one of them being the Master Scholar Tika, the Archmage and the man who had healed me earlier.
It was here that I found myself as the sun set, wincing from the aches and pains of my body, with several other recruits from the sands, and acolytes from the monastery itself. We were seated in comfortable wooden desks that they shared with five or six others. Tika waited patiently at the front of the classroom of the scriptorium. As the children who ranged from ages eight through twelve shuffled in under his stern and watchful gaze he noted that all of the recruits from the sands carried a loaf of bread, an allotment of jerky, and a skin of water with them - soldiers' rations.
“You will eat your rations quickly, and without spilling a crumb or drop. Anyone who makes a mess will spend the night after lessons cleaning the entire scriptorium, and I will also report them to Knight Commander Roderick afterwards,” Tika’s voice carried across the large class easily even though he spoke in a polite tone.
There. That should take care of any messes, Tika thought to himself. He could practically feel the terror radiating from the group.
“Tonight we will cover the realms of Nobility. Pray, pay attention to these lessons. Knowing the proper ranks, and showing deference due to the nobility could very well be as important as knowing how to swing a pole-arm or fire a bow. The History of Law is replete with examples of people who have lost their heads to nobility due to disrespect,” Tika scanned the room and his eyes lingered for a second on Jordan, seated purposefully next to Zerial in order to reinforce the lessons she learned earlier in the day.
“Who can tell me, what is a knight banneret?” Tika decided to start them off with an easy question. He ignored Jordan's raised hand and instead called on a boy seated at the table next to them. Sebastian, his name was, another knight-recruit.
“Master Scholar, a Knight Banneret is landed nobility that is a step up in terms of vassalage from someone who is simply a landed noble. While a landed noble might have several fiefs or properties to manage, a Knight Banneret has a larger and usually more diverse set to manage. A Knight Banneret can be depended on to supply more men and more coin to the Ducal holdings. Knight Bannerets are also sometimes referred to as half-step barons,” Sebastian answered with the ease of confidence, and Tika nodded.
“Who can tell me, I wonder, how else is a Knight Banneret considered unique? Jordan, put your hand down. I know you studied this today and know the answers. You need to prepare for a quiz several weeks from now, not show off in front of us,” Tika said placidly as Jordan dropped her hand as if scalded and turned bright red. Zerial looked at her with pity - he also hated doing embarrassing things or getting embarrassed.
“You… Jesslyn” Tika pointed out another student, this one an acolyte.
“Master Scholar, regular landed nobility are typically supplied with properties of the same type. One landed noble might be directed to manage manors, while another might be placed as the Lord Mayor of a town, while still others might be appointed as the champions of monasteries and entitled to protections and rights due to the clergy. A knight banneret is typically landed nobility who has shown aptitude for general management in all aspects of noble rule. They can be depended upon to manage a diverse set of properties without major failure or ineptitude,” Jesslyn answered succinctly, shooting Jordan a superior look - they were sisters. Jordan glared back.
“Good… good. I think that is a sufficient grasp, for now. Zerial, explain the ranking structure of nobility for the class, starting with the servant classes,”
“Master Scholar,” Zerial began nervously - damn it he knew the answer! Why did he have to be nervous? “The servant class begins at the bottom with those who have lost all freedom of choice. The slave class of people do not enjoy anything more than the most basic of laws protecting one’s life. Following this are the serf class, those who have certain duties to the lord of the land to provide work in exchange for rents or food. After this are the Freemen, who are workers of the land who actually have deed or title to the farm or manor they work.
Then, there are the yeomen. Yeomen are elevated freemen who are permitted by the lord of the land to bear arms under their authority. Yeomen are also expected to provide conscripts or militia depending on the size and prosperity of their households, amongst other rights and duties to the lord. Also in this same class of people are common merchants and artisans who pay higher taxes rather than supply men for the lord.
From there we have the beginning of the noble ranks, starting with the un-landed nobility. These are knights who do not possess any sort of land, and typically serve as needed to landed nobility. Landed nobility is responsi-” Tika interrupted Zerial
“No need to cover all the rights, Zerial, we will cover that in an essay later thank you… continue,” Tika said, pleased but not showing it.
“Yes, Master Scholar Tika. In that case, it goes as such; un-landed Nobility, Landed Nobility, Bannerets, Barons, Counts, Count-Palatines, Dukes, Kings, Emperors. The clergy and mage classes are different in that they fall in-between commoners and nobility, and are awarded the rights of low-nobility as a reward for their mastery,” Zerial finished rapidly.
“Excellent, excellent… Now, how would you..” Tika continued
“Hey, ass-face, why did you have to get us punished today,” Sebastian whispered to Zerial hatefully when Tika turned his back. Zerial turned a glare on Sebastian, which had no effect. Jordan also turned to look between the two boys, wondering what the recruits faced from Knight Commander Roderick - scary man!
“If you keep this up, Knight Roderick won't have to punish you! We’ll do it for him!” Sebastian threatened. Zerial rolled his eyes, knowing that Sebastian would likely do something wrong in the next week and be the one to draw the ire of the rest of the children.
Tika heard all of this and chuckled quietly to himself. None of the recruits had yet learned that though it was a competition, it was not a competition amongst themselves. It was a competition of the recruits versus the instructors. The instructors bet that they could make them quit, and the recruits bet they would not, in a way. That did not stop the instructors from turning them against each other, as weeding out those who would turn on a comrade in a tough situation was a desirable outcome, and it helped weed out the weak willed.
“That’s enough. Sebastian, remain after class,” Tika’s voice called out, causing the boy to pale.