I was surrounded by men in golden livery, and within a few seconds dragged from my horse, had a sack thrown over my head, and forcibly driven from the tourney ground with spears prodding my armour.

Combat plate is much easier to walk in than tourney, but even then it is not the easiest thing to do, especially when surrounded by armed men threatening your life with pikes, a sack surrounding your head, and a cloud of confusion fogging your mind.

Forced onward step by stumbling step, I was taken from my entourage and driven forward in a hail of jeers.

I had done nothing illegal or forbidden during the tourney, my opponent was not injured and I had not cheated in the slightest. The only thing that made sense was who my opponent was.

I cursed myself for not paying attention to the herald when they announced his name and station. The only explanation for the events that were currently afflicting me was that I had jousted and defeated someone beyond my station, but even as I followed that thought I realized that it did not hold any water. I had fought Barons, Counts and even Dukes in tournaments without facing the consequences. A few tried to make my life miserable using the power they held, but nothing more. A few more details confused me as well, the royal surgeon, the alarm of his squires and most curious of all, the way he moved and held himself during the joust.

I walked without thinking about it, letting myself be led to my destination by those who had surrounded me, and focused instead of solving my predicament.  The way my opponent moved made me think that within the featureless protective casing was someone who had never jousted in armour before, but everything else contradicted that statement. My opponent was more skilled than I, I won simply through good fortune and being underestimated. Someone who was as skilled as he was would move in that armour as if it was a second skin. I was faced with a contradiction that I could not understand. A skilled warrior who moved as if unused to the suit of plate he wore.

I continued to march for at least fifteen minutes before I came upon the solution. The royal guard and surgeon, the anonymous plate, the unsure movements and contradictory skill. My opponent had been one of the royal family, taking up a false identity in order to be allowed to compete. There was only one problem with that thought, the Prince was not old enough to compete. Though his smaller size would explain quite a bit. The Prince was by all accounts a very skilled horseman and lancer, which would account for the skill of my opponent, and his smaller size would mean that he would need to wear a full suit that was padded so he could fit properly.

If it was indeed the Prince behind that mask, then I would be faced with quite a serious situation. Striking a member of the royal family, even when there was no way of knowing who they were, carried with it the risk of death in the worst case. At the very least I was facing exile from the realm on penalty of death.

My entourage finally stopped pushing me forward and I realized that at some point my feet stopped stepping on rocks and dirt, and began to tread upon stone. Even with a bag around my head, I was still aware of light and dark around me, and for the majority of my journey I travelled in full daylight, but now that we stopped I was aware of a large building blocking out the sun.

The castle I thought to myself. They’re going to throw me in the dungeon for judgement, and as if they heard my thoughts, I heard the groan of enormous wooden doors being opened, and I was ushered forward once more.

The light faded and I was shrouded in darkness. The guards paused for a moment, and then the one I assumed was the captain of their squadron marched away. He left the rest of his men alone to guard me, but that didn’t encourage me in the slightest. The guards were very professional, they did not speak to each other or to me. They stood in almost perfect silence, the only sound was the slight creaking of the leather armour they wore beneath their breastplates. I hoped their professionalism was meant to impress me, which would encourage me. If they did not act like this around most criminals, then there was hope for me yet, but if the guards were always this disciplined then there was no more hope than before.  Of course there was no way for me to tell either way, so all I was doing was distracting myself from the present reality.

Letting my mind wander is a fairly useful skill in combat, when thinking about positions and movements is detrimental to you actions. Swordfighting is all about action and reaction, there is no time for thought. It is life or death. Useful in combat, but not in my current situation.

I needed to figure out what I would do. If I was to be executed, then I needed to find some way to escape, and if there was any hope of talking my way out of this, then I needed to find out how. All in all, my life was in the hands of a king I had never met, and who was the father of a child I defeated in a tournament.

Eventually the captain returned and I was led to a set of stairs, and after a hundred and fifty of them, finally reached a level floor. We paused once more, and the guard captain spoke in hushed tones to the man I assumed was the jailor. Their conversation was inaudible despite my strongest attempts to hear them without moving, and eventually I was marched onwards again.

Five minutes later I was led into a room, my head was uncovered and I was locked in. By my reckoning two hours passed before anyone else came, which left me with plenty of time to examine my surroundings.

Surprisingly I was not locked in a cell as I would have assumed, but rather in a furnished room. There was a small table with a lit candle resting upon it, as well as a bed, small bench and chamber pot. The table also held a plate with bread and cheese. The door that kept me in the room was a heavy wooden affair, and the room I was in had no window and no bars. I was not surprised at the lack of window, we did descend many stairs after all, but the door did confuse me. Usually dungeons had a metal door with a slot to pass food and chamber pots through, not only does it provide a way to keep track of the prisoners without exposing the jailor to assault, but it allows the jailor to remove any trace of privacy at will.

The fact that they would need to open the door in order to give me any food or water meant that they did not consider me a threat. I was being treated as a high ranking prisoner, and not simply as a lowly knight, but perhaps that had to do with who I jousted. Maybe I was wrong about it being his son, perhaps it was a nephew or cousin that was prohibited from participating. Perhaps this was simply to appease the person I jousted in order to satisfy their pride. I could hope, but I should prepare for the worst.

I made myself comfortable in the room, I learned a long time ago to rest whenever I could. You never know when you’ll need to fight without resting or sleeping, so you need to grab sleep whenever you are able. I didn’t know what the next few hours would bring, but I would face it rested and ready.

On campaign I perfected the uncomfortable technique of sleeping in full plate, and I would do it again here. I removed my helmet, gauntlets and coif. I placed them on the small side table and ate the bread and cheese. I wondered if maybe the delay upon entering the castle was to provide this small fare for me and I did appreciate it. It was a nice little touch towards making me feel less like a prisoner and more like a guest, but it was still a cell.

I ate the repast and lay down on the small bed. My legs were too long to fit properly on the bed, and my feet dangled over the edge, but I had slept in worse places before, and I would again.  I rested my head back on the tiny pillow and closed my eyes.

I woke a few hours later with a loud knock on the door. Apparently the outer door had a door knocker on it, or the person announcing themselves had a fist of stone, but the noise was loud enough to wake me. Playing it safe, I sat up on the bed and quickly stood beside it. I ran my fingers through my hair and rubbed my eyes quickly before responding.

“Enter.”

My voice was a bit raw from just waking up and the word came out very weak and quiet, I wasn’t sure if my visitor had heard me and perhaps it didn’t matter. Perhaps the knock was simply a polite warning that someone would be entering.

The door swung open slowly and I was greeted with the comforting face of an armed guard. He strode in, pike held up before him and was followed by a severe man in very rich robes, with a crown atop his head.

“Your grace” I said, my mind racing. I quickly knelt on one knee before he took offense to my standing.

The king chuckled and spoke. His rich voice filling the room. I have always been fascinated by voiced, specifically that of those in power. Poor kings and lords tend to have thin, weak voices, while the strong and vibrant rulers have the same. I always wondered if the voice made the lord, or if the lord made the voice. Whatever the reasoning behind it, this man’s voice was everything a king should be. Powerful, confident and caring. It filled me with a warmth that suggested I could trust this man with my life.

“There is no need for that Ser Francis. I am aware of your reputation, and I daresay I should be kneeling to you. Not only did you win my tournament, but you have served on the field of battle longer than any sane man. Why is that?”

I was confused; why was he simply talking to me. Why wasn’t he telling me what I did wrong?

“With all respect your grace, why are you asking me that? Why am I here? What did I do wrong?” I hoped playing dumb would give me a better chance than otherwise.

“Talk to me first. The reason for you being here will change depending on the answers you give me. Now why have you served in battle for so many years? Someone as skilled and well reputed as you could have found service anywhere. Why are you risking your life in pointless conflicts?”

“Your grace, no conflict is pointless, the reasons behind them may be shallow and motivated by greed or power, but they do have a purpose. I serve on the field of battle because it’s what I’m skilled at. I am a good knight, a great jouster, and a swordsman without equal. What else would I be doing if not that?”

The king smiled, and waved away the guard. The man left the room and closed the door behind him. Upon noticing the look of puzzlement on my face, the king spoke. “I am protected by more than just mundane means, I have no need of a guard to protect me against you, no matter how skilled you are. Now will you stand, or will I be forced to kneel beside you?”

I stood grudgingly, unsure of what was happening. I had been in private audiences with kings before, but never once had they ever tried to treat me as an equal. It was very confusing, and yet I enjoyed it immensely. It made me feel special, as if he was the one being honoured by my presence, and not the other way around.

“Good. Now Ser Francis, I understand that you are talented, but surely there have been offers and opportunities thrown your way before? I cannot imagine that I am the only Monarch to have noticed your talent, why then would you continue to fight in battles that have nothing to do with you?”         

I paused for a moment before answering, in order to set my thoughts in order and perhaps take away the sting from my statements. “I have a personal code of honour that I must never violate, not for any amount or gold, not for any position of power, and not for any man that believes he owns me. Whenever I fight in a battle, it is with the knowledge that I will never violate that code. And with all respect given, most rulers don’t care about my code. They simply want to own me as a prized possession, and use me when it suits them. I cannot stand those people, but I will take their money for as long as I am not forced to do anything I do not want to do.”

”And this code of ethics, it is unshakable? There is nothing anyone could ever you to break it? No amount of money?”

“No. Nothing.”

The king smiled and clapped his hands together. “That’s just what I wanted to hear Ser Francis. You see, I have been faced with a particular problem. My son will be king after me, but he does not hold the same values as I do. He abuses his position in order to terrorize and dominate the smallfolk. He lacks respect of his fellow nobles and above all he believes simply because he is royalty that no one can touch him. I am afraid I have allowed him to believe these delusions for far too long. I have been a good king to my people, just and generous. I built this kingdom with brutality, but have ruled it with kindness, that is what he does not understand.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand either your grace. Your son is spoiled?”

“Beyond spoiled. That’s why I brought you down here. I want you to be his champion, his guardian and his bodyguard. I want you to teach him the values that you have instilled in you.”

My mouth fell open and my eyes widened. Teach his son? There’s no way I can do that. Especially not with someone who doesn’t respect authority. I told the king exactly that.

“Ser Francis. I’m not saying that you’re going to spend your time in court and need to be my son’s servant. He needs someone who is not afraid of who he is, someone who will stop him from committing enormous mistakes, and someone who will slap sense into him, both literally and figuratively.”

“But your Grace, he’s surrounded by his friends and family here, there’s no way I can do anything like that while he lives in these walls.”

“And what did you have in mind knight?”

Was it true? Was I seriously considering this? To be the guardian and mentor of his son would be the highest honour a lowly knight like I could ever hold.  I would be an idiot not to consider it.

“I learned the hard way, in the Storm Lands. Where the Rift meets land and the creatures lay siege to our world, station doesn’t matter. All you have is your brethren beside you. You trust one another, and you abide by unspoken codes. If you don’t, you die. If you truly wish your son to learn the same values as I, I can think of no better place to send him.”

“The stormlands? I know that place is rumored to be harsh and the homeland of the greatest knights on this continent, but do you really think that jousting with desert tribes will teach him what he needs to know?”

”Your grace? Desert tribes? Are you truly ignorant of the duty of the Storm Guard and the horrors of the Rift?”

“I know what I need to know young knight, and I would remind you to hold your tongue when insulting a King in his own castle.”

His voice held a slight fury, just the smallest tremor of anger. He truly was an awe inspiring king, I regretted my words immediately, but the true sentiment behind my words needed to be said. The Stormlands are a terrifying place, one I left gladly upon proving myself in the Rift. Anyone who serves there voluntarily either dies a hero, or leaves one. Those who are forced there simply die a hero. The Storm Guard patrol the Rift, and they are not picky about who serves in their ranks.

I knew that most kingdoms were ignorant of the Stormlands and our duty, and that they might not truly believe the dangers of the rift existed, but in my heart I thought that the monarchs and rulers were different. I hoped that they knew the true sacrifice we make when we serve and fight there. I was very disappointed to learn that this was not so.

“I apologize Your Grace, but I guarantee you that the Stormlands will either kill your son, or turn him into the man you want him to be.”

“So what you’re telling me, is that either my son will return and be capable of ruling after me, or I will be forced to live with his death for the rest of my life?”

“It is the only way Your Grace. Rank counts for nothing in the Storm Guard, and he will learn that very quickly. Especially if he is as skilled with a blade as he is with a lance.”

“With a lance? My son has never practiced with arms a single day in his life.”

“Then who did I face today? Why did your royal guard drag me off to this place after the tourney? Why do the knights of your realm speak of his prowess with the lance and blade?”

The king was confused for a moment then he laughed loudly. “You mean my niece! To be completely honest with you I didn’t even know that she was your opponent. The guards had orders to take you here immediately after the joust, win or lose. In any case, you say the only way to teach my son is to bring him to your ungodly home land?”

I nodded slowly. “It is the only hope you have if you are set on my teaching him. That is the only thing I can think of. Of course now that I know that your son doesn’t even know how to wield a blade I am much more apprehensive.”

The king shook his head. “No. He has never once thought learning how to fight was important. He’s always had guards to do his fighting for him, or his pathetic noble friends. My niece is the one I truly wish was my heir, but perhaps there is still hope?”

I smiled and nodded suddenly very aware that not only will I be spared from execution, but that I have a chance at helping not only the Storm Guard, but also an entire kingdom. “There is always hope your grace. Always.”

The King stood there for a moment. “Let me think on it for a few days. In the meantime I hope you do not mind if we keep you hidden here. All of the gathered nobles know by now that you were jousting my niece. Even if you were unaware of her presence, we still cannot allow you to leave unscathed. I do hope you understand.”

I understood completely. Even though the king wanted my service, he could not simply allow me to go free unpunished. I did not like it however, I am unaccustomed to residing in the same place for more than a week, and I had already spent the greater part of one participating in the tournament. My bones itched at the idea of staying in the same place for another few days, but then again, it could always be worse; I could be staying here for the rest of my life or I could be executed. Compared to those options, staying here for a few days would be a vacation.

The king turned and opened the door.

“This door will be unlocked, if you need anything at all, just open and ask the guard. He will be sure to provide it for you. We have a location for exercise and walking if you wish to do so as well.”

“Your Grace” I said speaking quickly before he left. “How is your niece in any case? She seemed to be injured in that last pass.”

He smiled and said. “Why don’t you ask her yourself.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 3