The soldiers of the town still waiting to be given marching orders fiddled nervously and the conversations were hushed and tense. Many speculated about what kind of fighters the southern nation of Ademtor soldiers were. What weapons and tactics did the foul nation use in their pursuit of conquest? These questions would capture the mind of the men more than any story I might tell to them in the coming days while they wait impotently for orders to march to battle.
I sat upon the platform that was for minstrels and played a lively tune on my lute to capture everyone’s attention. This tale would come from two lives ago. In another kingdom, in another land.
The kingdom of Fontia is one of art and culture. Their knights strive not to just master the blade but to be warrior poets, artists, playwrights. Their greatest forces being like minded individuals coming together to form sacred orders of the kingdom. Each of them follow sacred tenets made by their founders. Many of them promise to serve the gods and the kingdom of Fontia. Others swear off the pleasures of the flesh, whether it be drink, weed, or women. They honor purity of soul and body as the pinnacle of knighthood and strive to live to such tenets well into their lives.
The king of Fontia, King Herald the VIII raised four sons into the world and one daughter, Lady Cassandra before tragically losing his wife upon his daughter’s birth. His mourning was seen to be great and vast like an ocean of sadness. Upon his daughter’s fifteenth birthday she had no suitors and was seen to be a symbol of purity in the realm. The king called forth a great tournament and called every warrior in the realm of Fontia to compete to see who would guard Lady Cassandra.
Amongst all the orders though stood the Order of the Mercurial Rose. They prided themselves as the most pure of all the knights in the realms. They were renowned poets and authors of grand tales that they would spread to all the noble houses in Fontia. Above all this though they studied the wielding of the thin rapier blades meant to pierce their foes and wore the lightest of armors to dance around their opponents as if they were nothing more then clumsy beasts. They sent one promising squire to the tournament as he had just become a man in the eyes of the land.
He was known as Sir Johnathan, he had shown such excellence with the blade that even senior members of the order struggled to battle against him. It was as if he possessed the knowledge of a dozen lifetimes dedicated to the sword. Whip thin with youth and vigor to match he arrived upon the grounds of King Herald and kneeled before the great king with all the other warriors.
Sir Johnathan had hair long and silken smooth. It was black as the night sky and shimmered as if the stars themselves were trapped within them. His eyes were warm brown like sun drenched earth. He did not wear chain like the other competitors and instead wore thick hard boiled leather that was both flexible and perfectly tailored to fit upon his fine frame. The rapier he wielded was plain and unadorned. A symbol of his lack of greed. His palms were coated in callouses from blade practice but stained with ink like that of a scholar. In his order he was known to craft the finest of stories for those lords and ladies that came to call upon the Mercurial Rose for their services.
The first of the bouts was a horseback riding competition. A winding trail through the twisting woods surrounding the castle that would press even the finest of riders of the realm. Sir Johnathan was mocked for his lack of horse, a squire without one was looked down upon but given the chance to go into the lands and without help of the kingdom claim a wild spirited horse. So he left the castle with his head held high and walked into the highlands spotted with the hundreds of horses the kingdom had. Within the day he came back riding a wild mare that many had tried to tame but none could. Her black hair as dark as Sir Johnathans with the purest white markings below her knees to her hooves. When the competition began none could match the unsaddled Sir Johnathan. He and the mare flew through the trees as if they were made of the wind itself leaving none to compete with their sheer speed and agility. As the race finished all those that had stables ran to try and get the horse as their own but with a smack on its rump it ran back to the wilds where it lived.
The second bout was that of stamina. A track was raised surrounding the castle moat and the men were told to run. Run until they could no longer carry their own weight. As many went to peel off their chain to run without the weight the king held up his hand. “Run as if you were armed and prepared to defend my daughter. If she were to be kidnapped would you not run after her immediately should your life still beat in your chest?” So they began to run. Many of them didn’t make a single lap, their armor too heavy and their guts too large. The young Sir Johnathan did not settle when the last of his competition fell to exhaustion, he kept going to show the king his determination. Even as sweat poured off his brow did he run. Some say he would have continued had the king not stopped him.
Many of the knights began to resent Johnathan for his part in humiliating them in front of the king. For he did not need to run his mare so hard that no one could compare, he did not need to show that he could stand twice as long as the next man. The complained that it was done not for honor but for pride. They thought he lacked humility and wisdom that age would bring him. In the night men came to his place of rest and tried to assault him only to be met with a smile and friendliness. Sir Johnathan apologized before they could even strike and disarmed them of their anger with words of kindness. “I must show the best of what my order can offer. Just as you have shown your best, I merely had the advantage of youth. My armor light upon my chest and my body light upon the horse I chose. Fret not I believe you all may best me still. The king does not look now for a scout but for a warrior without comparison. Let us do our best.”
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So the third bout came, it was to be a contest of the lance. As many armored up upon their horses Sir Johnathan shook his head and knelt before the king. “I ask with humility, I have released the mare I rode for the competition and do not have a horse to compete. Instead I will put my life on the line and stand against a horse on my own two feet. I ask not for a lance but for a spear.”
The knights called foul immediately. “We shall not skewer this man upon a lance. He does not even have proper armor!”
“He will merely step aside and run from the blow, how could we in conscious do this?!”
“He is sure to kill my horse to win this bout!”
The king held up his hands and called for silence in the court. “I cannot grant you a spear, the men here will be wielding blunted lances but further without the use of proper armor you will be slain. I may not let you compete.”
“I will don plate mail. I ask instead for a spear instead for a pole as long as a spear as blunt as the lances. I will show you a true display of skill. I shall not budge my feet from their place and will instead face any who will charge at me with heart and courage. Should I take a step aside, should my heart quail at the sight of an enemy bearing down on me then I deserve not to guard Lady Cassandra.”
Moved by his declaration the king called for poles to be made to be used by Sir Johnathan. From the Mercurial Rose came a set of light plate mail with sloped planes of metal. Donned and ready Sir Johnathan stood in the center of the lane waiting to meet his opponent. His heart did not beat fast with nerves, he did not shift his feet in fear. Instead he took his stance and leveled his pole looking at the enemies with calm beyond words. The man, whose war horse dwarfed all the other mounts that were there, charged. His heavy plate clanking together with each galloping stride as the lance was leveled at the still target of Sir Johnathan.
As the man approached Sir Johnathan weaved the pole with deftness, he pushed aside the lance that was bearing down on him. Then with a swift snapping shoved the pole up and into the armpit of the man and braced it against the ground in the span of a single rapid heartbeat. The sudden move and pressure ripped the mounted man from his horse and for a brief moment held him in the air before he tumbled to the ground with a crash. As Sir Johnathan said he did not take a step, his feet stood rooted as if he was a tree. Twice more he unseated his opponents, the one lance that struck him knocked him back but he did not lift his feet and instead left furrows in the ground.
The other knights shook at the display of sheer courage and skill that Sir Johnathan displayed. Especially at his age it was as if he was an age old veteran of combat and war. Nothing seemed to faze him. Many of his competitors stepped out of the tournament at the point of seeing him unyielding in the face of a mounted foe.
A banquet was held the day after the jousting and what the knights did not know was that this was yet another test. To see how the men would conduct themselves amongst their peers and in the presence of Lady Cassandra. So under the king's watchful eyes the feast began.
Many of the knights fell to the thirst for wine and overly indulged in food. Their eyes wandered across the ladies of the court and looked at hunger unbefitting a knight of purity. The king noticed the behavior of Sir Johnathan. He ate lightly and seemed ever ready for combat in a relaxed way of someone confident in their victory should the need arise. He did not partake of the wine and drank instead the water given to him. His eyes were sharp and ready for any danger even now in the king’s own court. Again the king found himself impressed.
Subtly and without besmirching the honor of the knights he saw get carried away he dismissed them of their duties to compete and sent them home instead to ruminate on what they must have done to be asked to leave the competition. Though he approached Sir Johnathan.
“You do not trust that my court is safe, young knight?” Asked King Herald.
“It is not a question of what is safe, my king. It is a question of being ready for anything, a coup, an abduction of the princess. These dangers always exist even in the most secure of places. One must be ready at all times to defend themselves and those in their charge.” Sir Johnathan stood straight but kept his tone humble and wise.
“What do you think of my daughter?” The King’s tone was harsh, almost possessive.
“A fine beauty the world is unfit to see. She is a beacon of purity and hope for the people to believe in something greater than themselves. I would be honored to protect her from all that would threaten her.”
“Do you not desire her?”
“The Mercurial Rose separate themselves from the desires of the flesh in all forms. That is how we can best remain with our honor and duty. I would not turn my back on their teachings.”
“If you love something though, would it not be worth abandoning your duties?”
“I would have to experience that to know its answer. Alas I have not loved during my time of squirehood and training.”
“You’ve proven yourself a great warrior with a good head upon your shoulders. Should you win the duels I do not see why you would not be the chosen guardian.”
Sir Johnathan nodded to the king with thanks in his eyes. The tournament duels would be a spectacle.