The Good(ish) Sir Knight

The brave vagrant sir knight, golden tresses flowing gently in the wind, armor flashing in the noon day sun, peered at his surroundings with a sharp hazel gaze from atop his mighty steed...or he would have if he owned a mighty steed. Really, he was standing on a rock. It was a rather large rock, and he certainly looked majestic atop it, with his hair flowing out in a halo and his steel armor shining gloriously in the light of the sun, but it was still a rock. Assuredly, the rock granted the knight the vantage point he needed to peer around the countryside. But it wasn’t a noble steed, and that ruined the image, at least to the man’s way of thinking. There were some things being a knight of the realm should have afforded you in exchange for following the Code of Chivalry to the letter. You should have shinning armor. You should have a loyal squire. You should have women fawning over you. You should have a mighty steed. The good Sir Gwuryn had none of these things. Well, except for the armor, and he worked very hard to keep it spotless. A knight aged five and twenty shouldn’t have need to shine his own armor. They had squires for that. Well, at least the wealthy knights did.

Gwuryn was a genuine Knight of the Realm. He had served as a squire to a lecherous old knight as a boy, and had undertaken the arduous seven years of training to enter the Guild as a full knight. He had taken his oaths very seriously. He had sworn to protect the peoples of the Realm, and, so help him gods, he had done just that. He went from village to village and town to town helping the people. If there was a horrifying monster he could vanquish in order to save the fair people of the land, so much the better. The people would adore him, the wenches most of all, and he could get a fat bonus on his next stipend from the Knights of the Realm Guild. Maybe after enough vanquished monsters, he could afford that stalwart steed he wanted. At least, theoretically. So far, he hadn’t met up against a single beastly foe, and this was his fourth month since taking his oaths. Mostly he ended up doing odd jobs for a village. They would house him for a week, and in exchange he would fix fences, help a shepherd shear his flock, or clean the gutters of an elderly widow’s cottage before moving on to the next village. One time he got to hunt down a particularly nasty boar that had chased a young man out of the nearby forest. That had been exciting, until Gwuryn learned the boar was a mother sow and she was only acting out of a sense of protection for her young ones. He had managed to tie her up, and safely deposited she and her drove of piglets a full league away from the village. He did this on foot, of course, and in his heavy steel armor. The Code prohibited taking off your knight armor for anything outside of leisure activities. In fact, Gwuryn did all his knightly duties in full armor. Particularly taxing in full armor was the act of cleaning widows’ gutters. And no, that wasn’t a euphemism.

Villages were always very thankful to the good Sir Knight when he visited. A Knight of the Realm is free labor to the small villages peppered throughout the many lands. They do anything from protecting villages from monsters or bandits, to completing drudgery tasks villagers either didn’t have the time for or that they held on to in the hopes of handing it off the the next vagrant knight. Gwuryn didn’t mind so much. He had sworn to serve, and he truly felt he was helping the peoples of the Realm. He just wished the gods would throw him a monster to vanquish every now and then. Or a free horse. Or an attractive wench to warm his bed. Really, anything would be great. He had been told by his superiors in the guild that as his renown spread, he would be more likely to be sent requests from larger villages with higher instances of foes to defeat.

The knight sighed, and hopped down from his vantage point on top of the not-a-horse rock. He pulled out his missive from the nearby guild outpost he managed to stop by. It had a list of towns requesting the services of any knights. None of these towns or villages had asked for him by name. It was only his fourth month in service, Gwuryn reminded himself, and he was doing fairly well for being the second son of an impoverished noble house. He would be able to afford his own steed in a few months as long as he remained frugal with his stipend. Then, he would look the part of a Knight of the Realm, and the ladies would throw themselves at him. Gwuryn grinned at the thought. Yes, ladies loved knights. Of this he was certain. His old master had seen to that bit of education when Gwuryn served as his squire in his teenage years. He whistled as he picked out the nearest town from his list. Sarton had some widows in need of gutter-cleaning. Maybe one of them would be young for once. Then Gwuryn could clean clean out her gutters before cleaning the gutters. That one was a euphemism. He let his mind wander down that line of thought into a regular fantasy of his, when a sudden scream drew him out of his musings.

Was that the scream of a maiden fair? Was she in distress? Gwuryn held tight to the hilt of his sheathed great sword, and tore off into the forest towards the direction of the scream. A Knight always aids the needy. It did not take the good Sir Knight long to find the source of the screaming.

It was a donkey. Seriously. A donkey.

The donkey’s distressed bray had sounded like the screams of a damsel in distress to Sir Gwuryn’s ears. Probably because he was distracted, and his brain lead him to believe what he wanted. A damsel would have been nice, but Gwuryn had always had a soft spot for animals. He shrugged it off, saving a donkey in distress was pretty good, and stepped forward, cooing softly to the donkey. He could see the whites around her eyes, and she was side stepping quite a bit. She was definitely spooked. He calmed her down, and had her reins in hand before the thought struck him. She looked like she was bridled for cart-pulling. Gwuryn examined her harness carefully and saw the broken wood of a cart. It looked like she had broken free of her carriage. Just then, a bellow broke through nearby. “Geeroff me things, yeh thieven’ beggar!”

The Donkey’s ears swiveled, and she pranced around uneasily. Gwuryn took a moment to tie her to a nearby branch as more angry yells erupted from nearby. “I will be but a few moments,” he promised the donkey, before drawing his greatsword and sneaking towards the bellow. Just past a bit of underbrush he could see the cart the donkey must have been pulling tipped sideways, with the source of the bellows, an angry dwarf, trapped under one side. A single human highwayman, dressed in all black with a mask drawn over his face, was distractedly going through the dwarf’s things in the cart. The dwarf, for his part, looked unharmed yet livid. He was in part attempting to push the cart off his body and additionally attempting to clobber the bandit with his small walking stick which could not quite reach. It was an interesting sight, but Gwuryn had not the time to sit and watch. He stepped out from the safety of his hiding place behind the underbrush. “You, sir,” he called to the bandit, “prepare to fight.” It was expressly forbidden to surprise ambush an enemy in the Code, and Gwuryn followed the Code to the letter. One must always allow his enemy time to prepare.

The bandit looked up, and his eyes grew wide in realization. This was a real Knight of the Realm here to save a lowly dwarf. The bandit took off running into the woods. Excellent. Gwuryn turned to the dwarf and excused himself swiftly with a simple “Back in a moment, good sir,” before chasing after the bandit. Gwuryn was surprisingly fast for someone so encumbered by the heavy armor of a Knight, but, wearing it every day, you get used to the weight. The Knight kept pace with the bandit, who attempted unsuccessfully to lose him several times. In one of his attempts, the bandit turned suddenly, and, gaze directed towards his pursuer, ran smartly into the trunk of a tree. He was flat on his back, staring up at the point of Gwuryn’s sword only a moment after. “Not the ending I would have preferred,” said the knight with a radiant smile, “but this certainly is easier.” Sir Gwuryn nudged the blade against the bandit’s neck. “Remove your weapons, or I will run you through and neither of us wants that.” The bandit did as he was asked, and in no time, Gwuryn had his first prisoner as a Knight of the Realm. It felt great! Oh, he double checked the man for weapons and confiscated a dagger from his shoe, but on a whole the bandit was rather cooperating. Having placed the weapons and stolen items into a sack, Gwuryn nudged the man at sword point, and the pair of them trudged back to the tipped cart.

“You sir,” Gwuryn called to the dwarf once he was in view, “Have you any rope?”

“O’course,” bellowed the dwarf, “It’s in me cart if tha’ rotter didn’ steal it.”

“I hope you don’t mind my securing the prisoner before I release you,” said Gwuryn cordially to the dwarf. In response, the dwarf nodded once, a look of complete understanding across his leathered face. Gwuryn liked dwarves. They were a very practical people. He made quick work of binding the prisoner so he couldn’t escape. This was one of the earliest lessons in knight training, so he was absolutely positive he had done it correctly. He was certain the man couldn’t get out of his ropes, but he checked him again for weapons just in case. When finished, he turned on the dwarf, and together the pair of them were strong enough to push the cart off of the dwarf, and set it straight. He excused himself to retrieve the donkey, leaving the dwarf. Perhaps somewhat surprised, the dwarf kept a quiet statue as he watched Gwuryn first leave, then return. Not knowing what else to do, Gwuryn started to pick up the fallen items from the cart to help, but still the dwarf stood silently watching him. It was like he was weighing his character out.

“Well,” said the dwarf after a long moment, “Let’s get to it, then.”

Gwuryn looked at him confused. “Sir?” he asked, “I am afraid I don’t understand.”

“Ye saved me life, boy, and the life of me sweet Clarabelle” explained the dwarf, gesturing towards the donkey, “I owe ye a life debt.” Gwuryn blinked for a moment, allowing that to process. What was a life debt? Was that some dwarf thing? He had no idea. Not seeing a look of acknowledgement on the knight’s face, the dwarf went on, seeming a little flustered. “It means I owe ye somethin’ fer savin’ me life, lad. It’s in the name.” Gwuryn nodded. That made sense. “I’ll be yer servant fer six years.”

“What?” Gwuryn sputtered, completely surprised.

“Fine,” exclaimed the dwarf, throwing up his hands, “Seven years! But not a day more.”

“You don’t,” Gwuryn began, but the dwarf cut him off.

“Aye, lad. I do. Me honor as a dwarf of the Nine Halls of Menelduhr commands it.”

Gwuryn nodded slowly. “Okay… but--”

“The name‘s Borli Whiteaxe, boy. What’s yers?”

“Oh, uhh, Sir Gwuryn Knight of the Realm.”

“Well, Oh Uhh Ser Gwuryn, let’s get to it then. What will ye have me do as yer first act as me master?”

Gwuryn smiled then, a realization dawning on him. “Know anything about being a squire, Borli?”

“Not a whit, Ser.”

“You will learn.” Thank you gods! Gwuryn had his squire! Things were looking up! Clarabelle brayed apprehensively, her eye locked on the tied up bandit. And a noble steed sorta! Not to mention his first enemy vanquished! Sure, it had been ridiculously easy, but nobody had to know that! “Pack up everything, and get Clara holstered to the cart, squire. We are going to take this prisoner to the guild outpost.”