A Knight's Tale (SevenRose/Fun_And_Games)

[SevenRose]

"Easy boy," Elizabeth said softly to the horse, patting him on the neck. Blue eyes overlooked the camp below, seeing the war horses and plates of armor shining in the sun like some picture perfect scene. It was, she thought, smiling. It had been a dream she had seen over and over at night and in training, and finally, there it was. Her chance to be a Squire to a real Knight Squad. Her chance to gain magic, to be a Knight. The first female to ride admist the men who were hailed as heroes, the greatest of warriors, the most noble and true of all men. It would start just as soon as she nudged the bay gelding down the hill.

It wasn't the easiest of journeys for Elizabeth Aldair. At twenty one years old, she had been a servant in the local High House. An orphan, or perhaps just a child too many to a family who simply did not have the meal rations to support another child, had given her to the House to be raised amidst their serving staff at just two years old, skinny with the brightest orange-red hair of any around. She was taught at the age of four how to clean chimneys, and how to get into the smallest spaces of the cellars to find things long forgotten. At six, she could scrub floors and was a wonderfully fast message relayer between the two kitchens. She slept in a loft in the barn, near chickens and rats, and was best friends with a cat named Leo. At ten, Elizabeth began tending to the horses, as the ladies said they did not want the girl who smelled like the barn in the kitchens anymore, and spent her days cleaning stalls and grooming the animals, and spending many long hours polishing leather. Her reward for leather well shined was permission from the High Lady to sometimes take the old sway back nag for a walking ride around the property. That love of horses grew through the years, turning into being allowed to ride the sleek thoroughbreds of the ladies, taking them over jumps and keeping them exercised. At 15, though she would put her eyes on the ground and stay quiet as expected, Elizabeth could keep up with most of the men who went of their fox hunts with their horses. That was also the first time Elizabeth saw a Knight, up close.

"Stable hand!" The Knight had called out at the edge of the barn door.

Elizabeth came moving quickly from one of the stalls, leaning her broom against the aisle wall. "Sir," she spoke gently as she approached him, nodding her head and curtsying in front of him. He easily engulfed her size, and his warhorse, a great draft cross bred for fierce strength and mighty speed, was the largest horse she had ever seen.

"A girl in the stables?" The Knight said.

"Yes sir," she replied, eyes downwards at his shining leather boots.

"What an oddity," he said with a bit of a laugh. "Do all the men around here stay too busy sewing and drinking?"

Elizabeth struggled not to smirk, but her heart racing in her chest helped calm that impulse. "I couldn't say," she offered in return, knowing the answer that there were many empty kegs in front of the rich men's home, and many scarred hands from the boys who worked the fields.

"Speak up, child, if you are to do a man's job, you should act as such." Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, the older Knight's face smiling down at her. "That's better. Do you ride?"

"I do," she answered, a bit louder and more confidently.

"Good," he said, handing her the reins to his horse. "Don't let your guard down, he bites, like all men. Mean bugger, but he would kill for a carrot." The Knight winked at her and shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Absolutely, sir." She took the reins and just stared in awe as the soldier walked away. She would find out later that was Lord Anton Sagaris, the leader of one of the Knight Squads in the area, highly respected and known for doing things that none other would do. His squad came by more than others, especially in the years following that, as rumors of war in the kingdoms began to spread and the Knights were expected to be patrolling and doing more. Once, maybe twice a year, the Lord would hand her his steed and she would look up boldly at him, a handful of carrots, ready for the dragon of a stallion and hoping for more kind words. Her admiration for the man was that of a child's love for the idea of Santa and the like at Christmas time. She dreamed of riding beside him in war, having a filly from the dragon horse of his, being a Knight.

When she expressed that dream to the boys around the castle, being raised to have a chance at being a squire, they laughed in her face. At first, she backed down, letting the maids and girls call her foolish, a 'tom-boy'. It didn't stop her. At sixteen, the red headed girl had convinced one of the elderly instructors to teach her the basics of sword play, crafting her a silly wooden sword that she swung mercilessly at bags of corn, then against his own worn practice sword. Her hands grew rough with callouses for how much she practiced, and very rarely was there a day she wasn't running and skipping through the town, playing sword with the smaller boys who accepted her. When the boys her age made fun of her again, for "playing with people her own size", Elizabeth took her wooden sword and went to war. She lost, terribly. She ended up covered in bruises and with a bloody nose, but, left her own marks. Some of them accepted her, and would spar with her when their real training was done. At twenty, Elizabeth was proficient in sword fighting and not the worst with a bow. She had saved enough to buy a young bay gelding who was too spooky to be a farm horse and too ugly to be a ladies' horse, and would spend her days off racing clouds on the country side.

"Elizabeth, you must stop playing games like these," the old ladies would swoon at her. "You need to find a man, bear children, be a woman. You will never find a husband if you are running around like this."

"Then why find a man?" Elizabeth would challenge, before returning to her barn and her horses. They were not wrong; by twenty one, the girl was lonely. The boys she faught imaginary wars with had either gone to be Squires themselves, or to be Lords and rulers of their own small villages. Her days of playing Knight were seemingly done. So on the year that the Knights returned of her 21st summer, it was almost sad to see the shining metal, swords, and horses roar up to the stables. "Lord Sagaris," she greeted the old Knight as he approached, her red hair back in a braid, boots cleaned, and freckles just visible under tanned skin. His stallion stopped just in front of her and barred his teeth, pinning his ears at her, before she opened her hand to a carrot. The horse snorted, angrily grabbing it before huffing his approval.

"Elizabeth," the Knight said, swinging down. "I dare say he missed you."

"I missed him," she smiled broadly, petting the horse's head.

"Do you still fight and ride?"

"Less," she replied after a moment, knowing her wooden sword had been gathering dust, as reality and age set in.

The Knight studied her. "A shame," he said, pausing.

The Knights came and went as usual, but something did not go as usual. One day, Elizabeth was called to the Main Room, to meet with the High Lady. Worried she was losing her job, or had been out of line, she shined her boots quickly the best she could, brushed her hair, and tried to wash the dirt off her face. But instead of firing her, the Lady informed she had received a formal request that a Elizabeth Aldair report to his squad to begin training as a Squire immediately. The Lady, quite fond of the stable girl and her wild ways, read this news smiling ear to ear. Elizabeth's smile could not have been brighter or more disbelieving when she heard it. Thank yous barely make sense as she almost ran out of the house to hold back tears of excitment. It seemed like a big joke almost; how could it be true?

But it was. So, Elizabeth found herself here, right above the Knights, mounted on her horse, wearing new boots, and the leather squire chest armor over a white loose summer shirt tucked into dark riding pants, her red hair braided, falling over her shoulder, and all of her few belongings and equipment packed in a bag hanging off her saddle. The first female squire; a dream come true. "Alright boy," she said, smiling in excitement. "Let's go find Lord Sagaris." She nudged the horse with her heels and trotted into the center camp, confident and already lost.

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Elizabeth Aldair rode confidently and proudly into the camp.

She was not well received.

She would not know it. After all, those who were angry and muttering about something usually didn't do so openly, preferring to sound out the others around them to ensure they were not alone. And it was not a universal dislike.

For instance, there was one fully fledged knight who looked over from where he was sampling the pull on a new bow as she rode by, following the flow of her hair and already seeing more poetry to be made over the strange beauty of seeing a proud woman on a fine horse.

There was a squire, looking up from digging rocks out of the horseshoes on one of the knights' principle mounts, who choked on a dry mouth...not about to laugh or bark angrily...but rather knowing he was out of his league with her. He thought he wouldn't have to deal with THIS since leaving home... the servant girls around the camp, he was allowed to order them about, and he would never dare go into the whoring tents yet. Now...a woman like that? So...unfair...he was doomed...

But those were the exceptions. By far, dark looks and unhappy grumbles followed her as she rode through the camp. Who was she? Who did she THINK she was? In what way did this seem like a place to play soldier? They had just gone through hell during the last wars, many of them now veterans of battle a dozen times over. Had seen their friends die. Many of them had NOT died because of the people next to them, and if any were even a little weaker, many more would have died. Now...they were letting a woman in? Those were the typical noise and complaints...and there was more than a few of them. Some were merely gripes, ready to harass her until she was one. A couple others...well, Sagaris was their leader who set a noble example, but he wasn't on every raid, and more than a few innocent women had been victim to the hunger of the darker few in the group.

But all of that would be all but invisible to her as she rode through in all her eagerness. There was a clear trail left down the middle of the large camp, hard to miss where you were expected to ride in order to find things. In the group, there were 8 knights, 14 squires to serve them...now 15. In addition to that, there was a withdrawn tent, set back a ways from the main group which she would learn soon enough contained the resident sorcerer and his two apprentices. Then, there was a set of servant tents. A total of 10, a mix of men and women who took care of the cooking and washing of clothes...any task that was too low even for the squires to handle. There was also a set of a weaponsmith, an armorer, a bowyer and a blacksmith for the horses and other metal work. There was a leather worker and a woodcarver for spears and tent pegs and the like. There was also a beer brewer...of course. (not vintner, showing they didn't have THAT much class, though they had a wine cask or two.) There was also a couple of trainers...the knights taught the squires much, but an expert sword master was there as well as a master archer to hone the skills of the knights as well. Lastly, there were the Unspoken. A total of about 10...rarely spoken to, even more rarely seen walking about. They were the ones who did the tasks no one even wanted to openly discuss as necessary. The ones who would dig graves and recover lost items from corpses after the battle (2), there were two latrine masters who emptied the bedpans and shoveled the...well, the horse remains (2), the healers who tied up their wounds and hopefully prevented them from ending up in those graves (2) and finally the four whores kept for the pleasure of the men. It was a fairly typical sized camp, though perhaps a little on the larger side, mostly because of the good reputation of Sagaris who drew squires wanting to claim they had been raised under his tutelage.

The camp was rugged, still a travelling camp that could and WOULD be uprooted on a fairly regular basis. When knights were not at war, they were often hired on as law enforcement by local nobles, and tended to rove as they looked for bandits and others outlaws. It was also for the simple practice of breaking down the camp and setting it back up again in good order, a necessary requirement when they were off to war.

Each of the knights had their own tent, and those were gathered right along the side of the trail through the camp, with quite a bit of space around it to give some privacy and to stack the knight's personal equipment. Between the knights, there was a tent which four squires could live in...three per side, meaning they could hold a total of 24 squires at full strength. It meant there would be a little bit of extra space. The tents for all the others were scattered further out, or nearer the edges of the camp, specially the trademen whose loud hobbies kept them a little further away so they didn't raise all sorts of hell when others might be trying to have a word. There was a set of stables inside a fenced yard at the edge of the camp, where the horses all stayed away from the bustle of the inner camp.

At the center of the camp, there was the dining cookfire area. A central fire was where they got the food, and then some scattered warm-fires around to eat around, each one populated by cliques of the different sorts...knights, squires, tradesmen, servants...and they rarely seemed to mix. Only the Unspoken had no fire. One of their kind slipped in, got enough food for all, then retreated to eat alone somewhere else.

Then, right next to the cookfire area was the central tent...Sagaris's tent. It was large, and could double as a war-room as well as his living space.

This was the controlled chaos into which Elizabeth rode...a little lost...

And gave one of the less than pleased sorts his chance to start in on her early. His shaven head revealed several ugly scars he had gained from a fight with something decidedly non-human...some claimed a troll, while others thought a fire-drake. He never said. He growled more than spoke, and even his so-called friends often felt his gaze was rough and more likely to provoke a fight than comradery. But he was good at what he did.

Z'Avar

He stepped up into Elizabeth's way, scowling and jerking a hand into her field of vision, making her horse shy away from the suddenly, purposefully violent looking gesture. "What are ya, DAFT, girl? Horses don't enter the camp so we don't get shit all over the ground and broken pots from their prancing. Don't you see the others in that fenced off area? Don't care if ye be travelling or here as the new meat in the whore tents. Get that horse-flesh into the pens now!"

 

[SevenRose]

The first things she thought were not quite what she expected.

First, there were women in the camp. It seemed foolish to expect otherwise, but, in all of her imagination and dreams, she had been the one female around. Instead, Elizabeth nodded with a slight confused smile at the skinny scantily clad woman who peaked out at her from a brightly colored tent. There were some women around who appeared as maids or cookers, or maybe sewers, she had no idea as it stood now, but they seemed cared for, plump, and quite festive. Second, the smells. While every Knight she had ever spoke with, like most men who walked around in summer heats in armor and leather had a faint smell of sweat and musk to them, this concentration was a bit more extreme. The air, more heavily perfumed with every step closer, was a combination of body odor, sweat, feces of human and horse, spices from cooking meats, campfire wood burning, and the faint smell of wildflowers. It was at once the most disgusting and the most real smell she had ever taken in. Finally, she realized, perhaps not something she had thought of, that she had brought quite the amount of attention to herself.

Each step of her gelding down the center line seemed to draw another pair of eyes to her. Elizabeth made sure her shoulders were back, her chest high and proud, and doing her very best to make eye contact with no one, if only a few.

That was, until the man stepped in her path.

Her eyes fell with curiosity and kindness on the scars on his face first. Maybe something he was used to, she pondered only for a second, wondering how layers of scars traced over what could have burns or chemicals, or how many fights it took to gain such a hardened outer appearance. Was he simply a poor fighter for being injured as such, or was he truly a strong man who, as they said, earned the scars? Not a question for now, Elizabeth new, reining her horse to a stop as he blocked her path. The bay snorted at his hand flying up and sharp voice, it’s front legs off a few inches off the ground threatening a rear before stepping backwards. Comfortably, Elizabeth turned the horse as the man spoke, calming him with an easy manner.

“I was unaware,” she responded, her voice crisp in the tension, looking now at his angry eyes instead of scars. “My apologies.” A sir nearly slipped out at the end, but unaware of who this man was and not wishing the appear entirely weak, she swallowed the word.

Elizabeth swung her athletic figure over the side of the horse, moving to the bridle and closer to the man. She rested a hand on her mount’s head and threw a less reserved look at him. “It’s not kind to spook the horses like that.” With that, she went to turn to lead her mount away, occupied of his comment. Do they believe I am here as a whore?

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Z'Avar's eyes flashed as she dared to comment back. Such boldness was...well, not what he would have expected from a woman arrived to become one of the servants or less. His prejudices had blinded him for a brief moment, but her curt response without the proper address broke him out of the temporary inability to see what was in front of his face. Her armor, bland though it might be, was real enough and had some quality to it. They bay was no warhorse, but athletic and strong of limb. Her attitude was that of someone who expected respect rather than normal (and righteous!) dismissal.

What the hell was going on? He stepped after her, snapping his voice after her, "Halt there, now girl! What gall you have, addressing me in such a fashion? You are entering a camp filled with battle honors and glory, and you would do well to consider ALL present as if they were masters of this place, rather than dismissing any who might be your betters."

"Now stand fast, and face me. I am Sir Z'Avar del Neraq, veteran of Sagaris's Scythes for nearly 10 seasons. Even he two noble squires, Lords in their own right, would not dare to speak to me in such a fashion. Turn, and make your obedience and introductions, or I shall have you whipped from this camp as an insolent traveller."

There was nothing of falseness or pretention in his voice, only privilege and expectation. Worse, there was nothing of reprimand for his rough treatment of her. Around her, eyes were averting from HERS, rather than rising in support. A few that met hers gave a soft shake of their heads, as if warning her against fighting this battle. This was not a man who was taking too much authority on him...he was one of the real knights of the Troupe. One of Sagaris's men...if telling the truth, maybe one of his longest, greatest heroes.

Whatever her expectations might have been, she had just met the first knight who would hold authority over her for the next months, even years if she could not prove worthy.

And insulted him. Hardly mattered that he had insulted her first, scared her horse, and lashed at her for making an honest mistake. She would have met others like him, other lords who knew where the privilege lay. He might be the lowest of nobles, a mere Knight who held not even his own title beyond the one Sagaris had granted him. But, worth of the title and privilege all the same.

 

[SevenRose]

She hadn’t got more than a half dozens steps away before the man recovered. At the first boom of his voice, now much louder, and much more aggressively pointed to her, Elizabeth stopped and looked over her shoulder, her braid falling off the front of her vest to lay down her back. It exaggerated the motion in some feminine rebellious way, of which she had no intention. None of this scene was her intention; she had imagined the kind smile of Sagaris, even a hug or a hearty shake. Instead, in the first five minutes, Elizabeth felt she had made an enemy simply for being present.

Upon hearing his name however, the girl realized perhaps to what level mistake she had made. If she could have bit her own tongue of then, she might have. Her cheeks flushed red under her freckles, her eyebrows betraying her worry and surprise on the realization. One survey of the crowd behind Sir Z’Avar, who stood as tall as a mountain and perhaps appeared as strong as one too, made it clear that there were no heroes to step forward for a damsel in this crowd. She was on her own, and it wasn’t not a boy from a castle yard.

Elizabeth turned in full to face him, her horse obediently turning with her, though clearly concerned about the threat of another ‘attack’ from the loud scary man in front of it. Putting her hand over her chest, and one leg back, Elizabeth made a poor imitation of a greeting she had seen lower lords make to higher lord. Still lowered, with a wonderful view of Z’Avar’s boots, she swallowed hard once before digging for the same courage she had had moments again. “Squire Elizabeth Aldair, reporting for training, my sir.” She stood from her bow and looked quite literally up at him, as he towered above her from this close and her not having the advantage of the horse beneath her. It would due to say no more in this scenario, her common sense awarded her.

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Everything about what she did was proper. Had she been yet another male squire arriving who had made the same grievous mistake, Z'Avar would have been appeased. He would have perhaps mocked the lad, swatted him upside the head, and told the boy to take his place amongst the trainees. Such a lad would have a hill to climb, but a folly on the first day would be quickly forgotten and forgiven...maybe even a point in his favor, for at least Z'Avar would know his name, which other squires might not even possess after a month in camp.

But instead of the laughter and forgiveness, there was only a flush of disbelief that flowed up onto the knight's face. "What...did you say?"

Yet, even as he asked the question, he blocked her answer with a demanding hand. To even think of such a ridiculous possibility was to suggest the sky had shifted to red, the sun had decided not to rise that day, or that gravity might any minute take a break. Shaking from anger, he tried to speak very precise, very measured words, "Even those lads who yearn to one day be called knights...some, at least...have stood on a field of battle. How...dare...dare...you play whatever sick game this is, to mock..."

"Calm yourself, Sir Z'Avar." The voice that cut through the moment could best be described as sharp. If it was not connected to Sagaris by being in this camp, 'sinister' might be the more appropriate description. It came from a robed shadow of a figure, robes covered in flowing runes, with eyes that all but glowed from a blue-white bearded face with an ageless quality that could not be quite placed for origin or age.

It was well known that every Lord Knight of Quality connected himself to a sorcerer of some capability. Some, to little more than hedge mages capable of granting their knights a small boon on the day of their Knighthood. Others, who could conjure hellfire on the fly and conjure gifts that would see a knight through countless battles unscathed. This man...was quite obviously the latter.

The Sorcerer, Yasirrith

Z'Avar snarled, "I did not ask for your words, Yasirrith."

The sorcerer returned him a grim smile, the look of one who didn't care what was being requested or not. "And yet, you have it anyway. At times, it is necessary before you make a fool of yourself."

Z'Avar stabbed a finger at Elizabeth, "This GIRL..."

Yasirrith cut him off, "Was personally invited by the Lord to join this troupe as a Squire. Embarrassing for our reputation? Perhaps. Time will tell. But if you feel such shame from her being here, how much more shame will you feel to exile her only to have the Lord emerge and reverse your decision, and call you down for having defied him?"

Z'Avar stopped...caught. He clenched his fist.

Yasirrith let out a small, "Ahhhh. There it is. Calmer heads prevail." He drifted away, down the street...a haunting presence that gave no chance for Elizabeth to really thank him for intervening.

Especially not when Z'Avar turned back to her, as thunderous and angered as before, but no longer heading straight for a rejection of every claim she had. "I will NOT forget your insolence, nor your...DARING to suggest you might stand amidst our squires. Mark my words, you'll be working the whore tents before the week is out to pay for your way home, hanging your head in embarrassment. Now take your horse to the pens and go...go make your report to the Lord." He smirked...and something in that smirk. He EXPECTED her to go whining to the Lord about being maltreated. Almost daring her to see how far THAT got her.

 

[SevenRose]

Had he been closer, Z’Avar might have seen the girl flinch as he raised his hand. Feeling rage boil off of him and irritation steaming into rage, for the man to have reached out and hit her would not have come as a surprise. The more the Knight spoke, the more her horse pulled on the reins, attempting its best attempt at flight, while its human did the opposite. Elizabeth’s wide blue eyes were focused, each muscle in her body on fire. This was going to end in a fight, it seemed, and there was no chance of help. I’m small, she thought, feeling like her heart had rose to her throat. Stand your ground.

Just as her arms began to rise as if to take a defensive stance, the voice she would never forget cut the air, feeling as though it cut through her at the same time. As if a curtain of heavy chill immediately descended on them, her heart rate almost instantly returned to normal, her muscles shivering their tenseness away, it took a effort to even see the figure that spoke. Years ago, she had stood in awe of her first Knight. Today, she saw another first: her first Socerer. The Sorcerers and magic practices of that power were not allowed by law to be present near royalty or in castle, for fear that not even the Royal Knights could stop a determined Sorcerer. Standing before one now, Elizabeth realized why. His presence alone sent some kind of feeling, some scared, intrigued, and sense of power near her straight through her bones. It was not a feeling that made anyone comfortable.

The man himself did not seem like one that anyone was comfortable around. Shadows surrounded his face from a deep hood, but the faint glowing eyes and not entirely human complexion was a clear threat to anyone who saw him. Elizabeth couldn’t look away. The sorcerer spoke only to Z’Var, and never once even looked at her. That obvious look past, as if she didn’t exist at all, how and why he seemed to be the only one who knew why she was here, and how the weight of relaxation left the air as the man walked away was all that was left with her. So when Z’Avar turned to her to rage without restriction once more, the Knight did not even have her attention until a few words in.

Snapping back to the scarred man, Elizabeth’s lips parted, a snarky comment sitting right on the edge of her tongue, something about how she would be happy to take his money in a lost bet but he couldn’t afford her in a whores tent even if she lost... it seemed, she barely avoided a physical fight so early. Better to attempt at keeping her head low, than impress with her bold attempts at macho behavior. She swallowed her words with something of a worried smirk, and once more out her arm on her chest and bowed. “Sir,” she acknowledged, before turning with haste.

“Come on,” she whispered to her horse, holding her breath for a hundred yards, still expecting the mountain’s hand to grab her hair and change his mind. It didn’t happen, though. Out of sight, she managed to breathe again, snd try to recollect herself. You knew this would be hard. It’s just one man trying to make your life hard. That’s what men do. Besides, with a sorcerer in your side, one could win any war. The thought of that alone though made her stomach flip; the less time she spent in his presence that happier she would be. She took her pack and saddle off her horse, placing him in a pen with the rest of what looked like the pack horses, Elizabeth traded back down the path she had came, this time, off to one side of the path, not down the middle, and spending a bit more time looking forward than around.

The war tent belonging to Lord Sagaris was a bright red, obvious and bold in the center. It was hard to miss once you made it into camp, even for a new squire. Elizabeth looked for her new friend Z’Avar as she approached, going to the tent entrance and gently pulling back the sheet that covered it. “Lord Sagaris?” She called, unaware of customs.

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Sagaris's standard was as bold as the color of his tent, a bright red lion run rampant on a field of white, which was kept purposefully bright white in the sun. Indeed, there was a squire shining it, scrubbing off a small dot of dirt. Mostly, squires only did menial labor for the knights, and the servants took care of the tedious things like brushing tents of debris. But the symbol on the stand outside of the tent was a symbol of their lord, a matter of pride, and keeping it pristine at ALL times was the job of the squires. Scrubbing it was a common punishment for misdeeds or just to remind them of who they were.

The squire scrubbing it now had a sour face, clearly not thinking it a just thing that he was the one stuck with the duty. His armor was a near match to her own, though had a shoulder and breast-plate addition...not a full knight's armor, but perhaps earned from his ongoing effort. Strange that he would be wearing it while cleaning...perhaps part of the punishment. He noticed their similarity as well, which had his eyes widening and mouth parting in surprise. But, unlike Z'Avar, he didn't have the right to simply impose himself on others, and squires learned to stop and wait before doing so. Squires might be the theoretical second-string in the camp when it came to ranking, but they were often treated as just one above the Unspoken. The servants and tradesmen were experts in their field, after all, and granted respect by the knights for being such. The squires were the 'errant children' that needed to be chastised and molded into new knights over time.

His delay allowed Elizabeth to slide right by, but he finished (not quite getting right) his scrubbing so he could scurry off and spread the word that a woman in armor had entered the camp. Between him and those who had overheard Z'Avar chastising her, the entire camp would be fully aware of her being there within minutes.

Meanwhile, she had entered the tent. It was more of a pavilion than a simple tent, and there was a foyer where she could slip inside...to be away from the open road where others might stumble on her while not yet invading the inner area where she might intrude. There were some logs set up as seats for waiting, but nothing else in the way of interest.

Fortunately, she wasn't forced to linger in that sort of purgatory. Having heard her call, the semi-familiar voice of Lord Sagaris called from further in the tent, "That you, Elizabeth? Enter, enter. Come attend me at my desk."

If she obeyed, she would find the inner part of his tent split into two spaces if the outside size of the tent had to be accounted for. One half was off tot he left, and beyond her view. No doubt, his personal space that few would see inside. The one she walked into was the planning tent, reception tent...whatever he needed it to be. There was a firepit at the center with a draw up above in the tent space, allowing the smoke to escape. It drove away any of the outside chill left over from the morning, though it was burned low now with the expectation of a day that would be warm. Not as sweltering as high summer, but it was still early in the fall.

All around the room, there were large structures upon which to hang maps. Huge tapestry style weavings were on them, depicting various lands that spread out around the Kingdom of Anglin which they all worked to defend. They were woven into the fabric, large of scale...everything within a month's ride in fairly exhaustive detail. On others, some of the details had been crafted in greater detail for some reason that was no doubt important, but not immediately evident.

At the head of the tent, there was an impressive sized table. Or desk. Or both. It was large enough to have ten people stand around it debating battle tactics, though there was an semi-circular indent on the far end where one person could lean in a little further, a subtle marking of authority as to where the master of the conversation would stand. The table itself was heavy, but not so imposing as to be immovable. No doubt, it could be disassembled and carried along with the camp. But, the top was heavy, and the process would be undoubtedly long, complex, and difficult. Probably another ugly job for the squires who would not doubt had to strike down the massive tent for the Lord.

Sagaris was standing in his proper place, looking over a map splayed out on the surface. This one was made of actual parchment, and there were several flags scattered over the breadth of it. He was staring at the results of his placements with some concern. The sight of Elizabeth entering seemed to shake him out of his displeasure, back to the realm of the light. He let a fatherly smile shine forth, stepping out from behind the desk and taking a couple strides toward her. Considering his rank and station, that he would close any of the distance himself was a mark of something...respect, or merely an acknowledgement of pride that she had actually answered the summons?

Hard to say. Either way, the smile didn't fade. "Well, Squire Elizabeth. I am gratified you answered my summons. I am sure it could not have been easy to bid farewell to all you know and love and hold dear for a life of service and hardship. But one day, it will be a life of service and PRIVILEGE and hardship if you fight hard enough." He gave an easy chuckle as he made it sound so perfectly awful. "Good ride in?" He flickered a hand, inviting her deeper into the tent. There was none of the overbearing pressure of Z'Avar...again, that vaguely paternal feeling coming from him, nothing different than the last time they had spoke. Indeed, even more pleasure at seeing her actually present and ready in her new attire.

 

[SevenRose]

“Hello, my Lord,” Elizabeth beamed back at him. For once, things seemed like they could in fact look up. When she stopped pacing the wooden rows, glancing to the doors every few seconds in half hopes she would be called in sooner than later and other half worried that someone else would join her in waiting, she happily burst through the cloth dividing her from Lord Sagaris.

The Lord Knight inside was always impressive, but seeing him in his own element was something that no one could argue as awe-striking. Before he looked up her, the man was something of a painting in her eyes, as royal and regal as murals around the castle and as perfectly important as the tapestries that were on walls. She paused for a moment to admire him. Even through the years, he didn’t seem to age either.

She walked up to him as he walked to her, her leather-clad five foot six lean figure a contrast to him and everyone except the scrawnier squires and other women in town. Still smiling, she once more offered a bow, hand in a first across her chest. “It’s a pleasure and an honor to see you again.” The warmth of the room and the kindness of his smile was like a ray of sunlight on a spring day. “I’m sure it was quite a bit slower than your stallion, but a pleasant day so far.” Elizabeth was imagining the happy face of Z’Avar and the sorcerer as she even said that. The thought made her smile a little bit more. With Sagaris around, it couldn’t be that bad.

“Sir, I must say, I’m thrilled that I was invited here,” she said, looking up proudly at him, her high cheeks slightly burned from the ride over. “I can’t say I truly understand it but, I’m honored, excited, I mean...” Overwhelmed a bit to actually be there, the red head laughed, oddly relaxed for a new squire. “Thank you.”

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Elizabeth was not alone in the way she thought of Sagaris. Even a little older, he was still one of the most powerful knights in the lands, as well as one of the most respected. He was straight of limb, his eyesight unclouded, and he had more in common with a tree trunk when it came to vulnerability, thinking perhaps it would take a few dozen axe swings to finally fell him when it came time. No one knew what his magical gift was, for if it was obvious he had never had reason to use it on the battlefield, and if subtle...had never admitted it to anyone.

Sagaris

To her eagerness and attitude, he rewarded her with a smile. "It was my fear you would find too many people to tell you it couldn't be done, and you would believe them. It was my belief that you would tell them all to go pound sand like the scullions they are, and show up anyway. Glad to see I didn't misjudge you."

He reached out and placed a fond hand on her shoulder. The sheer weight of it might remind her how much training she had yet to do. "I'm proud of you, just for showing up. When things get hard here, and they do for ANY squire, much less then first to do anything...remember, the pride that burns and lives inside of you is all that matters. You must live for the day that you take the Trials and pass. You won't always be able to spit right in the eye of those who think less of you, but imagine their shock and the way they will feel when you take those Trials and prove them all wrong in a way that they can't deny. With Steel."

He took a long breath. "Now, that will all mean nothing if I play favorites. You know that. So, I'll train you as much as the next lad, and judge you no less fairly when I walk the classes and see how you are all coming along. Believe me, if I was hanging on your every motion and attending to your every class and teaching you personal every time they turned their backs, they'd hate ye for it. Might not seem like it would matter, but in the end...we're all on the battlefield together. This might seem MIGHTY unfair, but this time...they don't have to trust you. You are only going to be one squire or one knight out there. Heard that one weak link will break a line? Well, that's bullshit. A dozen weak links can be held up by a full suit of armor. Problem is, what are YOU going to do? We're here to spend our lives well, not in a mess....if we spend them for the crown, it better not be cheaply, right? So while they can let you burn if they don't trust you, YOU can't afford not to trust THEM. So, if you cheat...if you take my favors...any of it...if you don't win them over by proving you can take the shit...well, then they won't have your back when it counts. And YOU can't afford that. Get me?"

He sighed, "Know it'll be hard, lass. But doing something the first time always is. But worth I, every time. We're here to change the world, you and I. Now...think yer up to that sort of challenge? Take the first step to changing the world for any girl who wants to follow after ya?"

 

[SevenRose]

Elizabeth listener attentively as the man spoke, wishing almost that she had a note pad to write down the advice he gave. However, the more he spoke, the more her heart and soul beamed with pride and excitement. The dirty image the morning had put on her view of her dream was erased by his hand on her shoulder, smiling down and including her in his plans. She wasn’t just another Squire; and even if he hid his interest in her, she was here because of him.

But the context of what he said, the truer advice, did not go unheard. Young boys training to be squires often got tips and tricks from every Knight and man they encountered; few wished to offer that to the barn girl. Elizabeth’s expectations of life in the camp were much different from what the reality was. With steel, she thought, the words almost magic to her. It would be a saying she would repeat in the coming years in her darkest times, a prayer for strength and a swearing for vengeance. The red head nodded along with him, ready to go to war for him this instant.

“Absolutely, Sir,” she replied with zero hesitation. “I was always ready. It’ll be fantastic.”

Elizabeth tried to keep her shoulders straight under his hands weight, holding her chest and chin high to look up in his wrinkled and line proud face. At that moment, she was sure she was invincible.

 

[Fun_and_Games]

Sagaris measured her as she stood there, proud and defiant. He nodded, impressed and indeed proud. Yes, this was the girl he had found, the diamond in the rough. If anyone could handle all the roughness that she would encounter, it would be her. Not just survive...but be strong in spite of it. Maybe even BECAUSE of it. He had kept his eyes open a long time, and she was the only one who had ever come close. May it be her...may it be so.

Taking a deep breath, he gave her a firm nod. "Good. Alright, that's it for now. You saw there were six squire tents, and four can stay in each. Total of 24 possible. We only have 14 now, and you'll make 15. That means, most of the tents should only have 2 in each, and a couple have 3. Go find yourself a space inside...might suggest you visit a couple and get a feel for who's inside. The tent-mates you pick might go a long way to describing the way you are going to get through the next period. It is the one part we don't control...where you all decide to bed down. And no-one is allowed to tell you to not go where you want, either. Go on...pick. And pick wisely."

The obvious question...was he really going to let a girl bed down with the others?...was not something he was considering. Beneath him? Or he expected her to suck it up? Or...

Either way, it wasn't going to be something he was going to help her with. Her first puzzle.

On the main strip, it would be easy to find the squire tents. They were spaced between the Eight Knight tents, three per side of the avenue. They were a little larger than the Knight tents...made sense, since 4 were inside of each, and the resultant space was probably smaller than the knights each had. It would be impossible to know who specifically was in each tent, but at least she could determine about how many were in each as a starting point.

In the end, her decision was made a little simpler, as the pattern that Sagaris had expected was not holding true. Perhaps, it made sense...that two of the tents had four sets of armor stands filled, four sets of boots at the door...filled, and without space to accept another into their midst. Probably friends, each of them a clique that was not going to be easy to break up. Until one of them CHOSE to move out, then she wouldn't be able to get into their midst even if she wanted to.

But that gave her a place to start, a difference between all the four tents left.

One, the one that was furthest on the right, and nearest to the camp of the Unspoken, had no-one in it. None had claimed it, perhaps because of how undesirable the location was. Hard to say, until she went in. The temptation of course was to have her own space. No need to fight for privacy, especially as a women among men. The negative is that it would immediately set her apart from the others. Until another came in, she wouldn't be sharing...would they read into that?

Two, there was another person who apparently thought solitude was golden. Only one set of armor, one pair of boots. Both of them looked a little grimy, well worn, and very custom. The armor looked light weight, meant for moving fast. Benefit...well, it was only one. A loner, maybe a friend...but, she would be befriending the possible loner. And, he might not appreciate having his solitude breached.

Three, there was a pair in there. A good middle-ground. She wouldn't be imposing with filling up the whole tent, but they were obviously able to get along with SOMEONE. Then again, it would be two personalities she would have to mesh with, and two to share the space with.

Four, there was one with 3 in it. If she wanted to try and get right into a group, that would be the one to try. But, she would be filling up a tent. It would be a known dynamic, as no more could come in unless another left. But, it would be as tight a quarters as could be had, sort of like jumping right into the deep end.

Nothing for it, but to choose one and take a look at the situation...it had been Sagaris's first order, and she had to eventually stop carrying her pack around and try to look like she belonged.