The Practice Fields
The clack of wood hitting wood filled the hot August air above the camp's practice ground. Dust from the dirt field covered everything. The grass that had once covered the meadow was torn up by the dance of blades that the many young knights were participating in.
Cris parried a blow from his sparing partner. He used the slight imbalance from his opponent's blocked swing as an opportunity to quickly swing from the left. The wooden practice sword struck his sparing partner in the left abdomen, forcing the air from his lungs and causing him to collapse. Cris brought his sword up and swung this time from his right. He used the whole strength of his upper body against his opponents head, knocking him down onto his side. The helmet prevented the worst injury, but Cris knew he had knocked the other knight unconscious.
To his left Cris could hear someone clapping. He lifted the visor on his helmet and saw his grandfather smiling proudly. He gestured at two squire boys to pick up the unconscious knight and began walking towards Cris. "That was a good fight. You did well taking advantage of Arynn's misstep, but a more experienced knight would have skewered you. Keep your guard up more, unless you want to end up like him," Robert said as the squire boys dragged the unconscious Arynn from the field.
Robert was an old knight, well past his prime. He was tall, a whole head taller than Cris, and deceptively thin for his strength. He wore his ornate full plate with his half white, half blue tunic. His distinctive helmet with white gold pegasus ornamentation was in his right hand instead of on his head. His old face was framed by short salt and pepper hair, and when he smiled the wrinkles almost hid his eyes.
Cris's father had chosen Robert to lead this army because of his experience as a marshal in Julian County. For close to twenty-five years Robert has served as Scot's marshal, ever since joining the Schneider court when his daughter married Cris's father. Before that Robert had served as a knight in the grey mountains, where he served as a member of the Pegasus Knights. His experience training the knights and men-at-arms of Julian County was perfect preparation for organizing the inexperienced errant knights for the crusade. He was assigned almost every knight too young to make the quest and he was expected to teach them how to stay alive long enough to be able to.
Cris knelt before his grandfather and bowed his head in respect. "My lord, what do I owe the honor?"
Robert guffawed. "Up! Up my child!" He grabbed Cris by the shoulder and forced him to his feet. "We do not need to go through the pageantry of court here. We are all soldiers now." He put his arm around Cris's shoulder and began to walk him away from the practice field. "I wanted to show you something, my child."
"Grandfather, I am twenty-two. I'm not a child anymore," Cris said. This put a smile on Robert's face, but he said nothing.
Cris could see his grandfather's mount, the pegasus Bolt, waiting patiently at the edge of the practice field. Bolt was the only pegasus Cris had ever seen in his lifetime. The beast was an off white color, with a rich white mane and tail. It had it's wings currently folded to it's sides, but Cris knew that it's wingspan was wider than two men were tall. As Cris and Robert approached, the pegasus neighed for attention.
Robert rubbed the nuzzle of his mount and whispered calming words in it's ears. He tugged on the reigns and Bolt knelt down so that Robert could easily mount the creature. After Robert was secure in his seat he clicked his tongue and the pegasus stood back onto all four legs. "Get behind me," ordered Robert, "and hold onto me tight."
Cris obliged. It wasn't his first time riding on the pegasus, but it was an experience that never got dull. After Cris was seated behind his grandfather, Robert spurred Bolt to a gallop. When the creature reached a full gallop it unfurled it's wings and brought itself into the air.
Robert circled the great assembly camp below them. There were thousands of soldiers, more than Kris had ever seen. This really was a errantry crusade, thought Kris, one which would be written about ages from now. He eagerly imagined all the glory and honor that all of the knights would gain.
From this height Cris could feel the immense size of the crusading force. He had heard his father say that the host would contain at least 5,000 knights, as many squires, and a host of peasants close to 20,000 in number. Scot had never been command of such a mighty army before, thus given the honor bestowed by the king by entrusting Scot with this crusade was great.
Sir Robert rode with Cris towards the front of the camp, which had come to rest after a few days marching outside the crossroads city of Marguilles. From there the army prepared to move south through the Nuvolone Pass into Tilia, though the Old Drawf Pass though the Valts and into the Border Princedoms. From there the army was on a route to cross the Blood River at Barak Varr within a few weeks.
As they approached the front of the camp Cris could see a large party of knights with hundreds of banners unfurled in the summer wind approaching the camp from the north. He knew those banners by memory because he had heard the stories of the knights who carried those banners as a child growing up in Julian Keep. Cris furiously tapped on the shoulder of his grandfather and shouted into the wind. "Are those the King's Guard? Are they coming to join the crusade?!"
Robert nodded and brought the pegagus to an easy landing near his father's tent. As they landed a handful of squire boys ran out to grab the beast and to help the two off of their mount. Robert turned to Cris. "We are here to greet the King's Guard and to accept their gifts and their blades. They are delivering a great honor onto your house by joining this crusade."
Cris parried a blow from his sparing partner. He used the slight imbalance from his opponent's blocked swing as an opportunity to quickly swing from the left. The wooden practice sword struck his sparing partner in the left abdomen, forcing the air from his lungs and causing him to collapse. Cris brought his sword up and swung this time from his right. He used the whole strength of his upper body against his opponents head, knocking him down onto his side. The helmet prevented the worst injury, but Cris knew he had knocked the other knight unconscious.
To his left Cris could hear someone clapping. He lifted the visor on his helmet and saw his grandfather smiling proudly. He gestured at two squire boys to pick up the unconscious knight and began walking towards Cris. "That was a good fight. You did well taking advantage of Arynn's misstep, but a more experienced knight would have skewered you. Keep your guard up more, unless you want to end up like him," Robert said as the squire boys dragged the unconscious Arynn from the field.
Robert was an old knight, well past his prime. He was tall, a whole head taller than Cris, and deceptively thin for his strength. He wore his ornate full plate with his half white, half blue tunic. His distinctive helmet with white gold pegasus ornamentation was in his right hand instead of on his head. His old face was framed by short salt and pepper hair, and when he smiled the wrinkles almost hid his eyes.
Cris's father had chosen Robert to lead this army because of his experience as a marshal in Julian County. For close to twenty-five years Robert has served as Scot's marshal, ever since joining the Schneider court when his daughter married Cris's father. Before that Robert had served as a knight in the grey mountains, where he served as a member of the Pegasus Knights. His experience training the knights and men-at-arms of Julian County was perfect preparation for organizing the inexperienced errant knights for the crusade. He was assigned almost every knight too young to make the quest and he was expected to teach them how to stay alive long enough to be able to.
Cris knelt before his grandfather and bowed his head in respect. "My lord, what do I owe the honor?"
Robert guffawed. "Up! Up my child!" He grabbed Cris by the shoulder and forced him to his feet. "We do not need to go through the pageantry of court here. We are all soldiers now." He put his arm around Cris's shoulder and began to walk him away from the practice field. "I wanted to show you something, my child."
"Grandfather, I am twenty-two. I'm not a child anymore," Cris said. This put a smile on Robert's face, but he said nothing.
Cris could see his grandfather's mount, the pegasus Bolt, waiting patiently at the edge of the practice field. Bolt was the only pegasus Cris had ever seen in his lifetime. The beast was an off white color, with a rich white mane and tail. It had it's wings currently folded to it's sides, but Cris knew that it's wingspan was wider than two men were tall. As Cris and Robert approached, the pegasus neighed for attention.
Robert rubbed the nuzzle of his mount and whispered calming words in it's ears. He tugged on the reigns and Bolt knelt down so that Robert could easily mount the creature. After Robert was secure in his seat he clicked his tongue and the pegasus stood back onto all four legs. "Get behind me," ordered Robert, "and hold onto me tight."
Cris obliged. It wasn't his first time riding on the pegasus, but it was an experience that never got dull. After Cris was seated behind his grandfather, Robert spurred Bolt to a gallop. When the creature reached a full gallop it unfurled it's wings and brought itself into the air.
Robert circled the great assembly camp below them. There were thousands of soldiers, more than Kris had ever seen. This really was a errantry crusade, thought Kris, one which would be written about ages from now. He eagerly imagined all the glory and honor that all of the knights would gain.
From this height Cris could feel the immense size of the crusading force. He had heard his father say that the host would contain at least 5,000 knights, as many squires, and a host of peasants close to 20,000 in number. Scot had never been command of such a mighty army before, thus given the honor bestowed by the king by entrusting Scot with this crusade was great.
Sir Robert rode with Cris towards the front of the camp, which had come to rest after a few days marching outside the crossroads city of Marguilles. From there the army prepared to move south through the Nuvolone Pass into Tilia, though the Old Drawf Pass though the Valts and into the Border Princedoms. From there the army was on a route to cross the Blood River at Barak Varr within a few weeks.
As they approached the front of the camp Cris could see a large party of knights with hundreds of banners unfurled in the summer wind approaching the camp from the north. He knew those banners by memory because he had heard the stories of the knights who carried those banners as a child growing up in Julian Keep. Cris furiously tapped on the shoulder of his grandfather and shouted into the wind. "Are those the King's Guard? Are they coming to join the crusade?!"
Robert nodded and brought the pegagus to an easy landing near his father's tent. As they landed a handful of squire boys ran out to grab the beast and to help the two off of their mount. Robert turned to Cris. "We are here to greet the King's Guard and to accept their gifts and their blades. They are delivering a great honor onto your house by joining this crusade."
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