[b]Character Name[/b]: Alaric Rainer / Auvray

[b]Character Age[/b]: 26
[b]Nationality[/b]: Rhodok
[b]Known Language(s)[/b]: Swadian, Sarranid
[b]Literate?:[/b] Swadian, Sarranid. Little High Calradic
[b]Religion/Beliefs[/b]: Revisionist Makerist
[b]Hair Color[/b]: Black, like that of a raven
[b]Eye Color[/b]: Blue, similar to an icy blue
[b]Physical Appearance[/b]:

[name] is slightly above average height perhaps by a few inches, his build is an athletic one,
not being overly muscular but the muscle he does have is well defined. His face is long and
his jaw slightly thinner than the rest of his face resulting in it looking angular in shape. An
extended goatee keeps his chin covered but his cheekbones are still left prominent. He
bears some small scars from various cuts during fighting focused mainly on his right arm of
which is his dominant.

[b]Personality[/b]:

[Name] is a devout man who has a strong belief that religion is a key pillar of society. Often
overly zealous and ignorant of the flaws in Revisionist Makerism [Name] finds himself
favouring those who follow the true religion over 'heretics and heathens', [Name] is often
humble in nature but can sometimes be hubris in his actions. Unfortunately he has
constantly battled his own personality in the past when making moral decisions which
usually end in being immoral. He has a strong lack of compassion for those who do not
follow his religion but can find some room for those who do. However, he is always
courteous when speaking with nobility as he has great respect for those of a similar
standing. [Name] can be hot tempered at times when pushed too far but mostly remains
calm in many situations. His hot temper is shown with his ruthlessness shown when crossed
often taking things past the extreme as a punishment to those who have been subjected to
his temper. Loyalty and honesty come hand in hand for [Name] he has always been honest
on how he feels and loyal to those who have put their trust in him. Betrayal is not a word
known to him as he see's it as the lowest a man could fall. To him, a man who betrays those
around him should be killed and fed to animals, that way at least they have a use as a bag of
meat. Needless to say he is not the best with intrigue and usually leaves it to those who he
sees as lesser to him.

[b]Likes[/b]:
The Clergy and religion, books and the military tactics they hold, writing and reading.

[b]Dislikes[/b]:
Profanity, unchivalrous actions, dishonesty, people who act for political gain.Cowardice.
Atheists and those not religiously aligned.

[b]Strengths[/b]:
He is unyielding, whether it be in a fight or a daily task, his diligence is one to only wish for.
Not willing to give up until what he is doing is completed he will continue even if it kills him.
Athleticism is something which comes naturally to him, his time as a soldier has only
improved thus allowing him to use heavier weapons and armour for longer periods of time.

[Name] is educated, his time spent being tutored has meant he has learned much in
mathematics, geography of the land among other things such as courtly etiquette as well as
multiple languages. Also being taught to read and write has given him a great advantage
over the years.

[b]Weaknesses[/b]:

[Name] suffers from cramp more often than others, he finds himself having to stop what he is
doing to massage his muscles to try and prevent it from occurring.

He is overzealous, this often gets in the way of forming new friendships and can sometimes
find him getting into trouble.

Sometimes his impatience gets the better of him when he expects far too much of those
around him. [Name] holds himself to such a standard which some others do not leading him
to struggle to wait around for those who would take much longer than him to complete a
task.

[b]Fears[/b]:

Death & dying without being known. The Maker abandoning him.

[b]Allergies[/b]:
N/A

[b]Character History[/b]:

The Marketplace was buzzing with activity as the sun shone brightly over the small village on
a cloudless summer day. Merchants shouted out over the hive of noise and activity peddling
their wares to those passing by. A horse and cart was being pulled through the village by a

man escorted by a small retinue of swordsmen. Dust and dried mud crunched under the
wooden wheels as three chests sit in the cart filled with coin, heavy padlocks keeping them
tightly shut.

Step aside, everyone step aside was the calm warning given as the soldiers cleave a path
through the common folk escorting the cart. The horse slowly moved along in the summer
heat beating down on those unfortunate enough to be caught in it. The collection run was
one of few changes that occurred in the small village that month.

Sire, Sire!

The man who collected the taxes stopped in his tracks, the retinue of men quickly doing the
same with the sound of the carts wheels grinding to a halt. He turned to see a man in
humble clothing running toward him, a small piece of paper or scroll in his hand.
What is it good man? the ageing collector called out before taking the letter from the much
younger man. As he read the note his face turned pale. I-I have a son

The tax collector was a Lord, of a small manor on the outskirts of what was the town he was
shire-reeve to. Before, the land was tithed to a noble family related to the King himself. The
land belonged to a Count [Name] and the manor serves as the holding for the family that is
the original descendants of the land. [Name] was a descendant of this very family. Subjects
to the Count and King. His family was very poor and had very little influence in the kingdom.
In Fact they were so much so that they didnt even have the right to bear their own coat of
arms due to the low standing among the gentry. It was ironic that his family had records of
their history running back to the days of the old Calradic Empire, the golden age for his noble
predecessors. Lords who were mighty in the courts and formidable on the battlefield. Ever
expanding the Empires border and always loyal to their Emperor, perhaps their undying
loyalty to their emperor was what brought them down so far upon its collapse.

Growing up [name] was active in his youth. Tutored from a young age by his father's
greatest and perhaps one of his only friends, Dantois whom he met while at war with the
Sarranids. It soon became clear that [names] education was a strenuous economic burden
on the family but as he was the eldest and only child the future of the family depended on
him so they endured. His parents did not coddle him, allowing him to explore but always kept
him safe from harm and learn from his experiences. However, his mother Eleanor was often
seen sending men with him whenever he did leave the manor. This proved to cause
problems with joining in on occasion as the soldiers would not allow him to involve himself in
games which may cause him harm. Forever with him are the times he did get to go out with
the boys in his village playing many a prank on the girls and fighting each other with sticks
only to be forced to abandon such when the soldiers came running over to stop it. [Name]
had very fond memories of studying with a man who he seen as one of his own friends.

Studying maps and the old Calradic language. Reading scriptures detailing the great Empire
that once ruled and its expansive court and government. He often thought that since then
his people have only gone backward. At a young age his mother taught him courtly etiquette
and his father shown him the use of a blade and to ride on horseback.

Every sunday he would attend mass with the rest of the village as did his pious father
Roderick. The local priest was a good man but the haunting memories are of the Bishop who
once visited. He had insisted on taking mass as they do in the large Cathedrals which ended
in disaster with half the church burning down. The local populace saw it as a sign that the
Bishop was not a true believer and he was hung by a mob. Violence ensued and many
peasants were butchered by the Lords men all before [names] eyes.

As [name] grew he gradually turned into a promising member of the gentry. His father's low
standing meant he bore no title nor Coat of Arms but nevertheless, he was considered a fine
specimen. A very basic sword hung at his side and his clothes were only better than that of
the average merchant. As such the only special right given to him was that his father was a
Knight in his own right and had taken the boy on as a page at the young age of seven.

Just a day after his twelfth birthday [name] was called into his father's study. There Roderick
was sat in his chair with a ox of a man opposite him Ah, this is your boy then? He is well
built as this age, imagine what he will make when he comes of age! a loud voice called out.
[Name] had seen this man before, many times. He was the Count his father was sworn to.
The Count often spoke to [names] father but rarely ever shown any notice to him.

[Name] bowed in greeting and respect to the Count before he stepped forward and closed
the door to which his father responded by speaking on his behalf. Indeed it will be a sight to
behold. He has not seen the world yet and this is very worrying to me my lord. I would love
to show him such but I am sworn to you and to protect the lands that belong to you. We once
fought together in the great wars against the Swadian Kingdom and the Sarranids. I have
done my best in tutoring him as a page but I doubt a father can truly teach his son as his
squire in the ways of war and court.

The Count walked over to [name] pulling his chin up forcing him to look into his eyes Hah,
the boy is strong and will make a fine warrior under my tutoring. I will take him as my squire
and finish him time as a page with me. He will leave with me tonight and that will be the end
of it. [Name] suddenly felt sick, his legs like jelly only just able to stand. It took every effort in
his body not to just slump to the floor. To simply be taken on by a Knight was a great honor
but for a Count to take someone was a far greater achievement. Just a few hours later he
was packing only the essentials his mother not making anything easier, picking up items to
then replace them and repeat the cycle until he had finished.

The next morning he aided the Count onto his horse before being asked Can you ride boy?

to which he responded nervously Y-yes my lord, I can ride on horseback. Then quickly
mounted the smaller of the two family horses following the Count and his retinue of
horsemen. Thus began his time in service to a proud but somewhat elderly Knight (The
Count is a Knight as well as a Count, it was often nobility regardless of title would train to
become a Knight.)

After what seemed like a journey to rival that of the one from Jamiche to Rivacheg the Count
and his men arrived at his keep. As the horses stopped in the Courtyard a group of three
young men came running and grasped the reins of [Names] horse as well as the Counts
and the leader of his guard so that they could all dismount with the horses then lead to the
stables. The young man who took the reigns of [Names] horse was skinny and small with
messy hair he nodded to [name] as he dismounted. Ah [name] this is Allister, one of my two
squires. You will be joining them once your training allows the Count said, speaking much
softer than he usually does. He began his walk into the keep before turning back to [name] "I
am sure you will not mind sharing space with the garrison. Aside from that, my study is open
to you for your use when I do not require you. The books may look intimidating, but I am
sure you will find something to your liking. Next morning Allister is free of his duties so he will
show you around the castle. Welcome He told [name] before marching back off into the
Keep. [Name] didnt mind sleeping with the guards as in truth despite his great noble history
he owned less than they did.

Although many sideways glances were directed at [name] throughout his night stay at the
barracks there was nothing more than that. His low standing among the nobility was still not
something the common men would not even dare wish to offend. Even more so when it
became common knowledge he was page to their Lord. Days passed, then weeks. Letters
were sent back and forth between [name] and his father but they became fewer as his duties
increased.

The Count and his wife, Lady Elizabeth were very kind to [name] despite him only being their
page. At least when he wasnt on duty. He was the youngest and least experienced out of a
vast number of people in the household that served in the castle. He often found Allister as
one of his biggest lifelines. Six months into his service the as the Count and the squires were
done with training him for his most important duties, he finally got away from the hay
mattress in the barracks. [Name] would then share a room with Allister, the young man who
he saw as a great friend to him. He was two years older but had served the Count as a page
before whereas [Name] had not served all his time as one to the Count in particular. The
more [Name] had become acquainted with him the more he realised what a privilege he had
been given to be in the Counts service.

Why did the Count take me do you think? I have little to my name. No title, my family can
not even bear their own Coat of Arms. He found himself asking Allister one day to which he
responded casually There is a reason for everything, perhaps the man saw something in
you others did not. He has trained people in the past who have went on to be great Knights.
Perhaps he owed your father for their previous conflicts. He may have been saved by the

actions of your father and wanted to show his gratitude. [Name] remained quiet and thought
to himself about the reasoning of the Count for the rest of the night.

During his early years under service to the Count he received additional training in all the
skills his father had bestowed upon him but this time from people who made a living training
young nobles such as himself. There was a chapel in the castle where small religious
ceremonies were held each Sunday. The Count would rarely attend these ceremonies, as he
and by extension [name] and the other squires attended mass in the city of [Name of City
desired], three hours of riding from the Castle gates. The Count and the chaplain also made
sure he learned the high Calradic language which was used by nearly all of higher-educated
western world as a common second language with which one might break language barriers
easily. He often rode with the horsemen at the castle, training in the ways of becoming a
Knight. The training fields of the Counts horsemen were roughly fifteen minutes worth of
riding away from the castle walls. From afar it looked much like a jousting field, except that at
the end of every track was a quintain ready to knock some poor rider off his horse after a
misplaced lance hit. Seeing the well-trained heavy cavalry organize and charge against the
target dummies gave him good pointers, but the sergeants bellowing at [name] while he
made his own charges gave him the real training that he was seeking.

A few days after his fourteenth birthday in the summer, [Name] was called by the Count to
meet him in the chapel of the keep. He rushed to the chapel as quickly as he could due to
there being no word on saying why he would be there but made himself respectable before
entering. He pushed the surprisingly light door open and entered the chapel, he could see
that a good portion of the Count's entourage was there, along with Lady Elizabeth and her
ladies-in-waiting. They all turned as he entered, causing a slight bit of panic float up his
innards, mainly due to confusion. The Count stood by the priest at the altar and called him to
approach as well. He made his way to the Count walking down the aisle slowly looking up at
the sign of the maker above the altar.

"Kneel before the altar of our One True God, my son." The priest said, motioning towards the
small pillow set on the lowest step in front of him. He settled his knees against the rather
plush pillow and looked up at the priest and his Count. In the flickering candle light he could
see the Count draw a ceremonial sword set on the altar and placed it over a heavy bronze
brazier in which a well-kept holy fire burned in honour of the Maker. The priest chanted
prayers and spoke in High Calradic, despite [Names] lessons in the language he still had a
somewhat hard time keeping up. At some parts the crowd of people in attendance would
also join in.

The priest sprayed water with his fingers onto the now hot blade, causing steam to billow off
it as the Count then pulled it away from the brazier. Once the water sprayed stopped turning
into steam on touch, the Count stepped to him and pointed the sharp end to his face.
"[Name] Auvray, are you willing to become a squire in my service, seeking to serve all, but

most especially those younger than you, exemplifying all the virtues of Our Faith?" The
Count spoke. Then it hit him that he had been learning this ceremony for years. Words
spoken differed from the actual knighting ceremony, but his responses to these questions
were the same style

With the Makers help I am

The priest brought a cup down to [name], holding almost in reach of his lips but far enough
that he would not yet drink the contents.

May you always do good to others and most especially to those most in need." The Count
continued.

With the Makers help I shall

The priest tilted the cup, the cold rim of the bronze cup touching his lips so he could take a
sip from the water in it. Then the priest backed away with the cup, The Count moving to pull
back the sword so he could hold the blade on top of his hands in offering to [Name].

"As a reminder that you are to live this oath all the days of your life, receive this, the blade of
the sacrament, and treat it with honour and due diligence in this life and the next. It will serve
as a reminder of the virtues of our One True Faith and will forever be clean of thy sins.
These virtues are to be your protection against all evil and safeguard your way to the Maker.
May you live them well." The Count added.

For my liege and the Maker, I shall carry it.

[Name] took hold of the sword and grasped the hilt of the sword. He lifted it from the hand of
the Count, bringing it vertical in front of him with the tip of the blade firmly against the stone
and said a quiet prayer then finally stood up. The weight of the blade is not much, he
suspected that since it is very much ceremonial it's made of tin and silver. The crossguard is
finely carved and detailed wood and the pommel gilded iron to give some heft to it. The
Count began clapping as he stood up and the rest of the chapel slowly broke out into
applause, including the priest who now stands by the altar.
Due to his particular martial and riding skills [name] was named as the Squire of Arms in the
Count's household, his formal title which would tell people what he excels at and which parts
of the household his duties took place in. His duties were in the garrison and in the armoury,
cleaning and maintaining the armour and weapons of practically everyone in the castle as
well as making sure the blacksmiths of the Castle had everything they needed to keep the

garrison well equipped.

Just a few months after his sixteenth birthday a rider came, a royal messenger. Although he
was not there personally to see the man arrive or leave, Allister pulled him away that evening
and tells him about it. The Count has been summoned to the Royal Spring Hastilude, a
prestigious event hosted by King William himself where he would put his best knights against
each others in popular events such as jousting, melee and the tourney.
The next morning after breakfast, the Count gathers all his squires into his study, like he
does every week to make sure everyone is keeping to their duties and to give new duties
whenever such come up.

The four squires, [name] included, stand in a row in the study, facing the Count who sat on
the heavy wooden desk near the small windows facing the courtyard. The sun is shining
brightly and the narrow windows direct it in strong rays of light across the room and into the
faces of the young squires. He makes his best effort not to squint or flinch as the sun hits
his eye, as do the other squires.
"The hastilude is a big event but I will not need all of you there. So I will have two of you with
me and two will stay behind to keep the castle running in a normal fashion. My wife will do
the ordering while I am away and you will make these orders happen. You should roughly
know all this by now," The man tells him before reaching behind his back and picking four
small sticks that his young son had gathered before breakfast, "In order to be fair to all of
you, you will draw sticks. There are two long ones and two short ones. Those with short
sticks will accompany me and squire for me in the hastilude."
The Count grips the sticks tightly and brings them to [name] first. They are neatly placed in a
row with no sign of which might be longer than the next. He took a firm grasp of the stick of
his choice, taking a nervous heavy breath before pulling it out. He look at it for a moment,
unsure if it was the long or short one. Allister beside him pulls his own stick, which is roughly
the same length of his own. He can tell what decision fate had given to him only on the third
draw when a stick comes out that is twice the length of [names] and Allisters. Allister clasps
[Names] shoulder and firmly shakes it out of happiness for both of them.

Riding the King's roads were some of the safest in the Kingdom therefore the Count opted to
travel light. Only taking enough provisions to reach the hastilude. The Counts retinue was
not large but it was not small either. Enough to make a full troop but not to be considered
any more than what it was, a personal guard.

They reached a small clearing at the border of the Count's land and the captain of the
horsemen blows into his horn a call to stop. With the sound creaking from the wagon, horse
huffing and armour clattering the group stops and moves to set up a small group of tents in
the clearing. While the Count himself walks around with his captain, [Name] and a number of
horsemen work to erect the large central tent that is solely for the use of the Count. A smile

flashed across [names] face as he thought about the future when his own squires and men
would be erecting a tent for his use. As he carries the last pieces of furniture into the tent and
walk out with Allister, the captain of the horsemen approaches the two. He does nothing in
the way of saluting either of them, the Count being his liege the same as their and in this
situation their noble upbringing means nothing.
"Hail squires. The Lord has ordered one squire to stand at guard at the tent entrance along
with a horseman. I will leave this decision to you two on who stands and when," he says and
then smirks at the both of them, marching off to supervise the erecting of his own tent
nearby.
"Well then... How do you think we should split the watches?" Allister asks, turning to him.
We will split it even, I will take the late watch. [Name] responds. "Alright. Sounds good to
me. We can switch the next time we camp." Allister said then they both rushed off to aid in
erecting the rest of the tents before the Count settles in his tent and one of them is tied down
to the entrance of the tent. [Name] stood at the entrance to the tent with the horseman
assigned at the same time as him. He noted that there are apparently six horsemen
assigned to guard duty since they change rather frequently next to him. He wore his light
helmet along with a hauberk, his old sword hung loyally at his waist. One of his hands
always rests on the scabbard of the sword, ready to thrust it forward to make drawing his
blade much easier.

The night is quiet for the most part. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance and the wind
kept rustling the leaves of the trees all around him every time it passed through. The torches
set around the camp kept the area constantly lit to some extent and no wild beasts dare
came too close. During the darkest hours of the night, he was roused by noises from the
outer perimeter of the camp. He couldnt see anything, the tents themselves blocking any
line of sight he might have to the area. It sounded like small sticks snapping. [Name] went to
check on it personally to ensure the area was safe. He ordered the horseman next to him to
stand guard over the Count while he went to check. The snapping of twigs continued until he
saw a glimpse of a mans face from the light that flickered from the torch. A man was leaning
on his lance snoring so [name] nudged him to wake him and pointed in the direction of the
noise. He attempted to beg for forgiveness but was hushed by [Name] who is now on full
alert after the sounds of the twigs snapping had stopped.

The sounds were not from guards, he managed to deduce just before he heard the snap of a
twig right behind him. [Name] took a side-step by pure twitch reaction and an axe swung
past his head. He could hear the air current whooshing in his ear and it sent him reeling a bit
further away from the assailant. His sword left the scabbard and he got ready to fight the
assailant, even if he was without shield. The assailant was joined by three others, all four of
them looking like peasants more than anything. Although hard to tell in the dark, [name] was
quite sure one of the peasants was a woman as well. They were probably serfs who had fled
from their assigned lands in an effort to become freemen. By law if they had not been caught
within a week and one day, they would gain their freedom from servitude. The desperation
was clear in the looks they gave him as they charged at [Name].

The four of them, assaulting him with little else but crude axes and maces whittled of pieces
of wood, quickly pushed him back. No matter how good he could be at his age with a sword,
without a shield he had no chance but to evade in order to not get pummelled to a bloody
pulp by the peasants. Even with a shield he was not sure he would have had any better of a
chance.

The horseman whom [Name] woke up was first to lunge to his aid. He threw his lance,
piercing the side of the woman assailant before lunging into the fight with just his shield and
fist. His appearance distracted the peasants enough that [Name] could get on the offensive.
He side-stepped and then lunged at one of the men wielding an axe. Even before he
realized it, a crimson colour spread over his rough dirty shirt and the man gasped with a
nasty sounding gurgle. As he looked down, he saw his blade sunk in between his ribs,
embedded deep into the man's most precious organs. [Name] had taken his first life, the
man slumping down as his eyes continued to stare into nothing. He stepped back, horrified,
not even hearing the rest of the guards posted around the camp joining the fight.

The morning after the Count kept [Name] close, knowing well the physiological effect a first
kill has on a boy. The horseman was let off the hook as a result of his quick reaction to
support [Name] in the fight against the peasants. A few days later [Name] found himself
riding at a slow pace along the muddy roads through a long rolling landscape of low hills
being turned into fields. Spring rain and melted snow have turned the ground soft and wet
and everyone was glad that it is the horses trampling on the road rather than feet, as it
appears from high up that the mud would have reached his ankles and make marching an
immense struggle. The Count rode at the fore of the group, his captain by his side with a
long banner onto which are sown the colours of the Count. The rest of the journey lacked
any interest and went by slowly. Most of the time was spent chatting between the men and
occasionally foraging for some extra supplies.

Riding up one particular hill [Name] couldnt help but look upon the large keep that was
before in him awe. He had never seen something so large before. On three sides, this
magnificent castle was surrounded by an ancient city. At it's heart, well beyond the wall that
stretched from the keep to the valleys, were the large stone and concrete buildings built well
before the ancestors of the current citizens came to inhabit these lands. Most of the
knowledge on how these buildings were constructed is lost to the ages and around them the
modern style of wooden buildings has taken over. What had once been a well-regulated plan
for how the city looked and where the streets were had been turned into an organic everchanging setting with more people trying to live inside city walls than it could hold. Outside
the city walls the new construction continued.

Further away from the walls, away from the houses and some ways into the fields, there
were hundreds of small tents in all the colours of the rainbow. It was too small for a large
military formation, much too small for a siege. By this process of elimination, he quickly
deduced they were the retinues of all the lords that had answered the King's call to
hastilude. [Name] and Allister followed the Count and the captain towards the keep for the

King's court to announce their arrival and reaffirm the Count's vows to the King. Behind the
squires, the two horsemen rode, the long banners of the Count draped carefully on the
lances they were attached to, since there was little wind to make them fly. The horses
reached the keep and the three dismounted entering without even a word from the garrison.

They walked through the doors behind the and the Count, the steward whispered into the
ear of the guard by the door on the throne room side. As soon as the whispering was done,
the guard raised his halberd and smashed the pole of it against the floor to gain the attention
of the court, then with a loud, booming voice the guard announced them all;
"Sir [Name], Count of [Name of County] and Baron of [Name of Castle],"
It was the short title that the Count went by, but on this occasion it had been given probably
due to everyone in attendance having long lists of titles, only the most important of which
would be announced to save time and hassle. Then, as a slight shock, [name] heard his own
name mentioned:
"And with him, his squires; [Name] Auvray of Aswick and Allister Glendale of Kerr."
The Count marched forth and reaffirmed his vows before leaving once again and took his
two squires who were beaming from being announced in the King's court. Later the evening
a feast occurred. It was at this time that [Name] had the chance to speak with other
members of nobility in the Kings court. [Name] did not get close to the King as he had plenty
of guards and servants around him with only the most powerful of the nobility allowed to
reach him. Unfortunately the night ended without anything which is worth remembering.
[Name] had only been rebuffed by his attempts at talk with noble women or ladies in waiting
due to his low standing.

The next day was that of the hastilude. [Name] helped the Count don his armour and up onto
his horse. The two squires stood next to the stand which had the shields and lances ready
so that they could easily take them and hand them to the Count on his passes. The Count
rode to the middle of the field, his opponent met him there in front of the King's eyes. Both
greeted their liege before greeting each other and rode back to the start. [Name] stood at the
fence with a lance ready for the Count to grab as soon as he got to [Name], Allister standing
some ways off from the other end of the field with another lance ready for the Count.
The Count made sure his helmet was on properly before he grabbed the lance from
[Names] hands and tucked it firmly under his arm, his shield securely in his other hand and
held close to his body, ready to receive the blow of the lance from his opponent. Once he
was ready, The Count raised the tip of his long lance up to point to the skies as a sign he
was ready. The knight at the other end of the jousting field raised his lance up as well,
fidgeting slightly with his shield before the horn was blown and the two riders lunged at each
others. The horses stampeded forward, kicking up dust and dry grass into the air as they
went with the knights having some trouble in keeping them going in a straight line. Slowly the
knights lowered their lances, knowing exactly where the tip would be at the end of the motion
with the shield being the target to go for. Thanks to [Names] position at the back of the field

he could not see the riders any more, the dust cloud in the air was too thick.
He heard a mighty bang and a crash, followed by the sound of a heavily armoured man
hitting the ground hard. [Name] rushed forward fearing the Count had been dismounted.
Splinters were raining down from the sky onto the knight laying on the ground. He looked as
the dust cloud settled and saw the Count was sat atop his horse at the other end of the field.
The squires of his opponent rushed to aid the knight off the ground and took off his helmet in
the process to make sure their liege was unharmed. Some blood trickled off the jaw of the
knight, a splinter having managed to embed itself into his soft flesh despite the safeguards
taken.
As [Name] turned his attention back to his victorious Count who was now riding back
towards his end of the field with Allister closely walking behind him, [Name] could see that
his lance was half the length it had been when he set off.

Time had passed and [Name] had aged. He had been a fully grown man in the eyes of law
and the Maker for four years. He could have easily been able to be betrothed to a suitable
maiden but due to his familys low standing there have been no such matches; ones which
bring prestige and wealth that is. He walked the halls of the Castle, he saw plenty of familiar
faces that he grew up seeing, yet certain important people were gone from the castle. The
older squires that once trained with him had been dubbed Knights in their own right and had
gone off to land of their own somewhere. Allister had become a knight-errant, refusing a
higher title so he might travel and bring the ideals of chivalry for all the courts of the realm to
see, having only a small knightly fief to keep himself barely fed and equipped. Before Allister
was dubbed, the Count chose two new pages, lads no older than seven, to be trained into
squires and eventually knights. Once Allister left the castle, [Name] became the closest
confidant the Count had and served as the example to the young pages. Despite his own
duties that took him most of the day, he tried guiding the youngsters as much as he could as
he knew how important it was to have Allister there to guide him in the first few months.

Most of his free time was spent with the garrison preparing for war. However, he was often
travelling to larger courts to learn the ways of intrigue. Something of which he took little
interest in, he found it ridiculous that people plot in secret rather than say how they feel out
in the open. The rest of his time was spent with philosophers improving on his High Calradic
and learning Sarranid so that he could speak with their nobles as most do not know High
Calradic.

Later the year the Count had fallen ill being bedridden for weeks. During this time a message
was received from a royal messenger calling the Count to levy his forces and to march to
meet the King to gather their forces to reclaim border towns and castles taken by the
Sarranid Sultanate in the last war between the two nations. Despite his still slow recovery
process, The Count clambered out of bed and made himself ready for war. In his case, he
would no doubt be ordered by the King to act as a war leader behind the main army due to
his health, but he would still be there to answer the King's call. With him, [name] would also
be made ready for war as his squire.

The Count was still weak, but his son was no substitute on the battlefield. [Name] knew no
other person who would be better to lead in the field of battle.The call to the vassals went
out, to call on the levies promised to him and their King in return for their lands. Even in an
area the size of his County, which wasn't even one of the bigger Counties in the realm, it
took three weeks for the vassals of the Count to answer his call by marching to the Castle.
As [Name] stood on the castle walls and looked down on the small army assembled, he
could see the reality of warfare in these times. He had heard of proud and strong men of the
Rhodok Kingdom marching to war and bravely giving their lives away in the service of their
King. Now as he looked upon this army that would throw itself to certain death, he couldn't
see these brave warriors from the midst of barely trained peasantry. The Counts vassals
had given the peasants spears and shields along with mail hauberks and pot helms, but it
was little more than a recently formed militia than an army. It was a ragtag group of trained
city watch and castle garrisons, mixed in with huge amounts of peasants who were basically
being trained in battlefield tactics while on the march. [Name] could count that from the
County alone the King would have a few hundred infantry and two dozen well-armed knights,
half of them with squires in tow.

A week later the men reached the mountains close to the border of the two Kingdoms.
[Name] did not know exactly where they were, so the Count set up camp for the night with
fires and a feast for all. For all except two who were sent along the border to seek out the
direction the main force would need to march in order to find the encampment of the King.
[Name] volunteered his services to the Count once again and received his blessing to ride
out. The Count gave him the order to ride east in search for the King to which he did. He
rode for hours until the hills gave way to flatter land, the grass slowly turning more and more
into desert. Just as the sun set behind the horizon and the moon became the main source of
light, he stopped his horse on one of the hilltops and looked down on a city of coloured
fabric. Tents in hundreds of different shades and combinations of colours were erected with
banners flying off the top of the tents of notable nobles of the realm. In the middle of it all, on
top of hill of it's own, there was a tent from which flew the banners of His Majesty the King.
[Name] could swear he had seen smaller houses than this particular tent, illuminated by
dozens of braziers set into the ground around it and lit. He had no need to approach the
camp more than that. He knew he had found the right place. He rode hard and rode fast.
The night was crawling along at what seemed like a faster than normal rate and the moon
was already high over his head when he reached the Counts camp once more. He rode his
horse straight through the camp and only settled his horse into a small makeshift pen for the
horses before rushing to the guard outside the Count's tent. [Name] filled him in on the
location of the Kings encampment so he could relay the word to the Count in the morning.
Then he finally turned in for the night himself.
The ride to the campment was much longer than what it took for [Name] to reach on his own
due to the carts and infantry slowing the progress greatly. Once they finally reached the city
of tents he thought he would drop off his horse from exhaustion. The orders were simple and
quickly dispensed; the army of the Count would make camp alongside those of at least five
other Counts, erect their own section of tents and then prepare all their equipment for the
short trip into Sarranid lands to fight the army they had gathered, whenever that might be.

[Name] followed the Count, as a loyal squire should, and made his way to the top of the
central hill. The tent fabric of the massive tent flapped in the light breeze and two of the
probably two dozen guards circling the tent grasped the reins of his horses as he arrived.
[Name] dismounted first, then aided the Count out of his own saddle, making sure to support
his weight as much as [Name] could.
The guards allowed the Count to pass through the wide opening of the royal tent, since they
had recognized the Count's colours when he arrived and had been following his ride since
he left the soldiery behind. One might think from the number of servants and nobles present
in the tent that the King was there to hold court and not make battle preparations, that fact
becoming evident only once [Name] listened to their bickering over strategies. As [Name]
entered the tent, the crowd parted and through the widening gap of people he could see the
King sitting on a wide and heavy bronze-cast curule seat that still had some small flakes of
ancient gilding on it.

"Your Majesty." The Count said as he approached the King of the Rhodoks with a smile and
bowed as he got within ten steps. [Name] hung back and observed, as squires were
expected to do. The silver spurs on his heel were supposed to be behind the gilded spurs of
the knights such as his Count and most of the lords present in the tent. The Count said and
pulled a parchment letter from a pouch on his clothes, handing it to the King before sitting
down.
"What is this?" The King asked, breaking the seal and opening the parchment carefully.
Before the Count could answer the King had already glanced at the letter and let out a brief
chuckle, standing up and pointing at his chaplain to approach. [Name] recognized by the
deep crimson colours of the chaplain's robes that he was none other than a cardinal of the
Revisionist Makerist church, one of the most powerful men in the western world. The King
whispered something to him, the cardinal smiled and nodded and then went off to fetch
something.

"[Name] Auvray, step forth!" The King called out into the crowd which backed away quickly.
[Name] could feel a lump form in his throat as he was left separated from the crowd. The
nobles forming a gauntlet to the King drew their swords and formed an arch to walk through.
With some hesitation, he put one foot in front of the other and slowly approached to within
ten feet before bowing and kneeling in front of his King.
"[Name] Auvray of , tonight without your weapons or armor, you will stand vigil over the altar
of Our One True God. Do you know what this requires of you and will mean for you come the
morrow?" The King said in a booming voice and looked at him. He lifted his head but averted
his eyes from His Majesty.
The next morning, after bathing in sanctified water, he would be knighted.
I do your majesty [Name] replied, his voice trembled slightly.

[Name] stood next to the bronze altar in a large tent that was one of many dedicated to the
warrior-priests and monks who were a major part of the King's army. His vigil had only just
started, as he had been robed in a large flowing white vesture and a priest had blessed his
vigil with the common prayers.
As the darkness settled over the encampment, the same priest who had blessed his vigil
some hours earlier came in with a torch. Without a word he walked to the large bronze
brazier in the middle of the tent and dropped the torch in to join the drywood already set
inside it. After a few moments the fire caught hold of the other pieces of wood, the flames
suddenly rushing up with a whoosh before settling down again. The priest said a few prayers
once again before walking back out of the chapel made of fabric and sticks. Around midnight
the fire began to slowly die as [name] looked on and stepped next to the brazier with a sigh.
The last small flame flutters as if a wind was trying to remove it from the piece of wood it
seemed to be stuck to. He knew the priests chant a prayer when the fire finally dies, which
he knew how to pronounce thanks to his forced studies in the ancient tongue.

The morning finally came and [name] rubbed his eyes in desperation to get the sleepiness
from his eyes. The Cardinal [name] had seen the day before entered the tent with two priests
accompanying him, one carrying a small bowl of water and one carrying red velvet robes
and a pair of black slipper-like shoes. [Name] knelt before the cardinal who laughed and
pulled on [names] shoulder to get him to rise. "Please. My son. You have stood vigil and
accomplished your duties to the Maker. In this brief moment before you walk out of this tent,
we are brothers and pilgrims, equal under the sight of the Mother, equal in the shared Holy
Spirit." The Cardinal said, nodding to the priests to come closer. The small bowl turned out to
be a small washbasin where [Name] could splash water on his face to wake himself up from
a sleepless night. The priest with the clothes set them on the altar and then left with his
companion priest to fetch a large bath. Over the next hour, he sat in the bath, being
ceremoniously bathed by the priests everywhere but his feet, which the cardinal himself
would wash as a sign of his humility in the face of his vigil.
The water had been sanctified by the bucket. Every time a fresh bucket was carried in, a
long litany was said before the pouring of the bucket over his head to fill up the bath basin.
Once the washing was done he was stood up in the bath and he were dried before stepping
onto a cloth set beside the basin. A pair of black shoes was in front of him which he stepped
into. He was escorted by the priests out of the tent to cheers of a hundred nobles or so. The
Cardinal guided [name] to kneel in front of the wooden altar and the nobles gathered around
in a tight pack. Each one of them drew their own swords and knelt, their swords vertically in
front of themselves, the blade stabbed into the ground.
The Cardinal began the ceremony by joining everyone into the same prayer that had been
present when he was made a squire. He had taken the blade from the altar and had it over
the fire in a large bronze brazier set to the side of the altar. The Cardinal took the blade away
from the fire and handed it to his liege the Count, who held it pointed at [name] while two
priests approached, chanting a hymn while spraying water onto the hot blade with their
fingers to sanctify it further. Once the priests backed away, the Count let the drops of water
run along the blade until they came to form a single large drop at the point of the sword. He
set the point against [Names] forehead, smearing the drop of warm water on [name] before

drawing the sword away and taking the blade into both his hands in offering to the King.
"Your Majesty! I, your ever-loyal servant and vassal, wish to make it known to all in the
realms of the Rhodok Kingdom that [Name] Auvray is a chivalrous squire, whose
achievements on the field of honour have been matched by his courtesy and concern for all
of Your Majesties' subjects."

The King stepped forwards and grasped the hilt of the sword, bringing it horizontally across
his waist as he straightened his back and spoke.
"[Name] Auvray, have you undertaken to accept the accolade of Knighthood and have you
stood vigil by the altar of the Maker?" The King bellowed, his voice sure to carry over to the
nobles furthest away.

I have your majesty [Name] replied

"[Name] Auvray, you have been deemed fit for this accolade due to your services to the
realm in the training of your lord. You have indicated your willingness to accept this honour
from Our hands. Do you now swear by all that you hold sacred, true, and holy that you will
honour and defend the Rhodok Kingdom, to do everything in your power to contribute to its
glory, protection and prosperity, and never to act contrary to its dignity, but to conduct
yourself always as a true Knight of the Rhodok Kingdom?"
"I do, Your Majesty"

"That upon the True Faith, you hereby vow and dedicate yourself as a servant of the Maker
and the Poor, the first qualification of a True Knight. And in all humility, charity, and respect
agree to join with every sincere and Faithful man, to bring about by prayer and deed the
salvation of this world by helping to promote a lasting unity in one Holy Spirit?"

"I will, Your Majesty"

"That you will honour, defend, and protect all ladies, and those weaker than yourself?"
"I will, Your Majesty"

"That you will conduct yourself in all matters as befits a Knight, drawing your sword only for
just cause? That you will not sheathe your sword before justice has been done? That you
shall not cower from your path and quest, no matter how ungodly and dark it grows?"
I will, "Your Majesty"

"Then, having sworn these solemn oaths, know now that these will be the last blows you
shall ever bear without just recourse."
The still warm blade touched [names] right shoulder, the sharp blade digging into his skin for
only the mere second that the King took to aim before smacking him right below the right ear
with the flat of the sword. He then raised the sword over his head, lowered it to his left
shoulder and once again took aim before smacking below his left ear with the blade. The
King then finally withdrew the blade and placed the tip of it against the ground, holding onto
the crossguard as he nodded at [name] with a smile. Behind him stood the Count who was
nearly beaming with pride.

The metal of the blade had not been hot necessarily, but it had been warm enough to leave
long red marks on both [Names] cheeks which he felt burning slightly. This was the mark he
would carry for the rest of the day at least as a sign of his fresh knighting. The Count
stepped once again to the forefront, carrying a pair of gilded spurs.
"Sir [Name], rise now and accept these spurs and take your place as a Knight of the Rhodok
Kingdom ."
[Name] stood and took the gilded spurs into one hand and finally looked up at the King with
pride.

"[Name], accept also this bare shield, as I, King of the Rhodoks, have seen it fit to grant you
and your family line a coat of arms. Your family has served the realm and the Counts you
are in service to admirably for centuries and this shall be your first gift to them as a Knight of
the Rhodoks."
With the crowd finally breaking into cheers as [name] grasped the shield, the Count rushed
him quickly back into the tent he came from. The priests had set his armour and regular
clothes near the altar and the Count guided him to them.

After the Knighting ceremony time flew by for [Name] before he knew it he was rushing off to
war. The army had gathered and now [Name] was a knight in service to the Count no longer
his squire. The march into the enemy territory took many days due to the size of the army
and the constant problems that ensued with it. Once they finally reached the enemy territory
the Kings scouts were sent out in search of local lords.

A few weeks went by before he heard anything from the Sultan of the Sarranids. The King
had sent messengers to his distant court in the south to make clear his demands and his
presence on the border with an army by his side. Both knew that the armies of the Sultanate
were still in the thick of fighting with the Khergits to drive them back. Still the foreign King
might be able to muster enough resistance to beat the Rhodok army back across the border

if The King did not act soon.

[Name] meanwhile had practically perfected the emblems of his new status. He had found
nobles who had painted coats of arms before and knew exactly what they were doing and a
week after he had arrived in the Sultanate, a group of maidens arrived from the Rhodok
kingdom who he quickly made sure to make a few banners with his new coat of arms on
them.
Another week passed by without the Sultan responding to the army on his border to which
the King was furious. He began his march from the border with the entire army to lay siege
to Wayyah castle and take the village of Hawaha with many other minor towns and villages
so that the Sultan would have lost an entire County to the Rhodoks and they could prove
their might over the Sultanate.

The road to Wayyah was calm and dry. Grassland soon gave way to sand = and the last
harvests were just taking place in the countryside. The King ordered most of the knights and
horsemen of the army to round up and confiscate as much of the last harvest as possible,
but made sure only the amount that would go as tax to the Sultan would be seized. It would
be enough to feed the army for a while. The road [name] and the main force of the army
were following finally shown the Castle. Tall, thick walls rose up in front of the force,the city
inside. The walls themselves were decrepit, and many of the towers reduced to slightly wider
bits of the wall with no particular height advantage. In comparison, a mighty and well-kept
keep rose majestically over the city. The banners flew along the walls of the keep, yet the
central flagpole over the keep gates did not fly their liege's banner. Apparently their liege was
not there to defend his lands in person. The King set up his camp on the eastern side of the
castle and ordered a little less than half of the army to march around the castle, laying siege
on the western side. After seeing how the walls of the city had been battered by decades of
neglect, the King did not expect the city itself to hold them off for long. [Name] suspected the
keep would end up being the real issue unless the defenders might be bribed while their
liege was not there.
Fall came and went, bringing with it a warm winter. The siege camp the King had set up
around Weyyah was little more than a mud pit into which tents had been raised. The monks
and priests that had come along for the war were busy still in organizing a group of soldiers
in building simple siege weapons so they might get into the city. [Name] on the other hand
found himself in the middle of a siege attempting to acclimatize into living among the nobles
as, at least theoretically, an equal. He was no longer beholden to the Count, but had decided
to stick around and aid him whenever the King did not have use for his knights, which he had
little use for when the army stood still. Two weeks after winter mass celebrations, the city the
army had surrounded finally turned in on itself. Both sides of the siege had suffered
sickness and hunger, but the Rhodok army at least had the option to raid nearby villages and
farms for sustenance. [Name] could hear in his tent the yelling and screaming on the streets
as a riot slowly began tumbling towards the keep itself, demanding the seneschal for access
to their food storages. The riot lasted for three days and a small section of the city was set
on fire and eventually again extinguished before the fire spread uncontrollably. On the third
day of the riot, a group of wealthy burghers took the riot to the city walls, taking control of a
gate and requesting parley. The citizens had had enough even if the keep itself still stood in

defiance. With the armies of the Rhodoks and the maddened population of Weyyah behind
the King, the garrison guarding the city retreated to the keep. The King rode to the keep with
his retinue and gave the acting commanders of the city, the keep and the garrison his
demands of surrender. There was a quiet grumble in the army as they had hoped no second
chance of surrender would be given so they might plunder it, but the King wished the city to
remain intact and promised everyone their fair share from later battles and sieges. Weyyah
surrendered without needless hesitation.
The King had conquered a city and a castle in the Sultanate without a single blow from his
sword. The garrison was stripped of their arms and armour and sent to repair the walls of the
city under close supervision from Rhodok soldiers.

While most of the King's army remained in the encampment outside the city walls, [name]
along with all the other knights, nobles and clergy were moved inside the city where they
were given housing either in the keep or in houses that had been seized from local nobles.
[name] shared the small house of a poor nobleman with at least two dozen other knights
who had been crammed there and who more often than not preferred the court of the King
except for when they slept. Three days after the end of the siege, The King sent for [name]
specifically to attend court. As was befit a knight during war, he wore his mail armour and
surcoat as well as his sword. Despite the calm of the city, all knights were required to keep
their armour and weapons on them at all times during war if they were called to the field of
battle. He made his way to the keep, where the guards outside quickly bowed their greeting
and then showed him the way to the hall that King William had taken as his throne room.
"Sir [Name] Auvray!" One of the guards announced to the room as he stepped through the
doorway with [Name] close behind.
[Name] was expecting a crowd, as was usual in the King's presence, but here in this dusty
hall that smelt of mould and moist wood, only the King and his liege the Count were present
along with a messenger who waited for his own orders. He slowed his steps as he saw
nobody in the hall, wondering where they were, but then picked up pace again to quickly
reach the King. He knelt before the King who quickly and silently pulled him back on his feet.
"Your father has joined the Maker in eternal rest," the Count said, handing [Name] a
parchment with a broken seal.

"My Lord, Count of [Name] Baron of [Name].

I regret to inform you that on the seventh day of December , Shire Reeve Auvray has
succumbed to disease after a harsh winter, breathing his last and returning to the embrace
of the Maker. His son is your squire, and we beseech you to inform him of this unfortunate
event.

I would also like to inform Your Lordship that before the death of lord Auvray, two new

subjects were born unto your demesne as the Auvray family grew with twins, a strong young
son and a small maiden."

The Count looked at the King who stood in front of his curule seat and rolled open a long
parchment, clearing his throat.
"On this day I, King of the Rhodoks, rightful King of the Rhodok Kingdom and blah blah blah,
grant you the lands of what was the village of [Name] and [Name] in the realm of the Count
of [Names] lands. Blah blah, I also grant this new title along with blah blah blah to Sir
[Name] Auvray for the long and dutiful service of his ancestors to the realm and the King of
the Rhodoks, blah blah." The King said, speeding through the long and boring proclamation
which went on to exactly define [Names] relation with the Count, the King of the Rhodok
Kingdom and also define the borders of [Names] new estate.
"Congratulations, son. I hope this brings some relief to your time of sorrow." The King said
before handing the proclamation to the messenger who in turn rushed to deliver it to Jelkala
Keep from which the decree would be spread around the Kingdom.
"I already gave the messenger a copy of your coat of arms. He will deliver it to your family in
so they know what it looks like. Wouldn't want them to make a new one without knowing
what you wanted it to be, am I right?" The Count said and tapped [Names] shoulder roughly
with his large hand. Soon after [Name] left to return to his newly granted lands to get them in
order. No noble would shun him as there was no better reason to return home than to visit
family in the wake of passing and arrange for the lands to be tended to. He sat atop his
horse in full mail armour. He held the reins of both his horse and a smaller sumpter horse
which were to carry a small amount of food, water and things such as a few spare shields
and his lance, all of which he doubted he would be needing on the trip back to the Rhodok
land. His arming sword was safely by his side, shoved deep into the scabbard.

The journey back was quiet, surprisingly so. [Name] had expected at least a few bandits to
cross his path, whether in the Rhodok Kingdom or the Sultanate. He made a quick visit to
the Counts Castle on his journey, relying on their hospitality to supply him with some extra
food when his rations and pouch of pennies had dwindled to almost nothing. The son of
The Count had taken over the running of the castle. Sir Allard had released him from his
oath as squire before he had left for war and had practically ordered the younger man to
return to the lands he would inherit some day. He was not allowed on the battlefield. After a
long day of riding in the snow [Name] finally reached the edge of a small town in the middle
of fields and bordered by some spotty woodlands and a small creek that eventually led to the
river Humber. Slowly as he led the two sumpters given to him through the wide gap between
buildings he started recognizing the central houses surrounding a marketplace. It was night
and no more than a handful of people were still awake in the town. Those that were quickly
ducked inside when they saw him in his armour and with his weapons, shield and the
banners with coats of arms on them.
This was [Name]. It had grown since he was a small boy, but not by much. He would need to
get reacquainted with it the next day or the day after that, depending on how much there was

to do at the manor. He rode through the town and towards the hillside. Ten minutes of riding
later, He arrived at the centre of three buildings; a small manor, a stable and a small twostory house for servants. In the middle was a deep well with a bucket and a long length of
rope set beside its rough stoneworks. After a night's rest at the manor, he entered the dining
room for breakfast, his mother seated by the table with the twins nearby in the care of a nun
from a nearby monastery, brought to take care of the children and the mother until the
children could walk and the mother could trust on servants to keep an eye on the
rapscallions.

There was a gasp and then a high-pitched bark of sobbing as his mother saw him enter the
dining room. She had obviously not been told. Her hands went to her mouth and nose,
covering them as she began sobbing and rose up from the table, her watering eyes staring
directly at the man. With a smile he approached her and knelt in front of her, taking one of
her hands and kissing her knuckles before she pulled him into a tight embrace. "You look so
handsome..." She whimpered in his ear while sobbing and holding him tightly against
herself. The reunion lasted but a few hours before [name] had to begin sorting out the affairs
of his new estate. In the time he learned the names of his brother, Peter and sister Anna.
Upon his return [Name] had used the generated revenue from backlogged taxes to expand
the garrison to allow for more professional soldiers. He also worked on improving the roads
and river access which would take time before any progress would be visible.

Soon came the time to return to war and [Name] had to take a retinue of men no matter how
big or small. He had ten horses and fifteen men who could ride them and therefore decided
that they would make up his more professional garrison. [Name] thought it would be best to
levy what has been a tradition on the lands that now belonged to him. It has been long
tradition for all men of able body to train using longbows that could be the length of a person
in the most extreme cases. Most of the forces of the King had shorter bows or crossbows as
was more traditional for the Rhodok culture. The longer bow had longer range and bigger
impact, but nobody in the Rhodok Kingdom had set a precedent on using them in proper
combat against armoured targets as the crossbow could be easily used by many and the
short bow was quicker than the longbow.

As expected, [names] brief holiday was over when a royal messenger came calling him to
war. Two days after the messenger had arrived, a small portion of the able men from his
lands had gathered by his manor and equipped with longbow and arrow, with spear and
shield.The hastily made official garrison were on horseback, spear and shield with a basic
sword at their side, the armour they wore was better than that of the bowman but cost Sir
Auvray dearly in coin. The men trained under a burgher named Stephen and he was quickly
elected by the men as their captain. In his hands they would put all their trust and their lives
while serving Sir Auvray and the realm in the war against the Sarranids.

The small force took three weeks to reach Weyyah castle. Even with an eager force the men
on foot slowed the speed of the force of fifteen horse and twenty bows. Stephen, the Captain
drilled the men daily. Morning and night to ensure they were well disciplined when the time of

war came. He and Sir Auvray did not wish to lose a single one of them for it meant one less
worker in the fields when they return. [Name] counted them all personally ensuring the
numbers he had was what Stephen gave him. These men would eventually sink into the
meat wall that is the Rhodok army and would be thrown into the grinder that is war as Sir
Auvray would have no command over them once reaching the main army. In the months that
[name] had been away from Weyyah it had been c
letely rebuilt. It looked as if an entirely new castle and walls had simply been placed next to
what seemed an ancient city. [Names] men took their place among the ever growing
Rhodok army until they were to be marched home. [Name] visited the King to answer his call
to arms then was sent into waiting for when the King called upon him next.

The time had finally come to be called up when the King had finally caught the Sultans army
after he began marching back toward the invasion by the Rhodok army. The sea of flowing
banners was a sight to behold. Aside from some of the King's personal levy which would
stay to protect the city and keep, all the armies of the Kingdom had been mustered to the
fields outside Weyyah for the march south to intercept the Sarranid forces. [Name], Sir Allard
and Sir Allister had found each other in the middle of the long formation of knights. He
peered from the slits of his helmet and watched on as all the colour of the realm rode
onwards, each and every one wearing a surcoat onto which had been painted or sewn the
coat of arms of the knight wearing it. The shields were painted in the same fashion. All the
knights had taken time off their schedules to personally blacken their helmets so they would
not reflect sunlight uncomfortably into the eyes of their allies or enemies.
[Name] held his lance tightly in one hand, the butt of it resting against his foot in the stirrup to
carry most of the weight. It was easy to pick up when the time came to couch the lance and
charge. His sword was firmly by his side, hidden beneath the shield strapped tight onto his
bicep for the duration of the ride.
"Knights! Onward!" [name] heard the call from the Count, followed by the melody of a horn,
calling the knights to a slow trot. Although bugle calls were not a strict code as of yet, they
had been developing rapidly in the last few decades. Every knight knew what each horn
blow meant, making it an easy way to give out orders in the thick of battle and across long
distances.

The Count did not lead the Knights the same route as the rest of the army. Scouts had noted
the perfect landscape to conduct a pitched battle in and the King was heading with the main
army to that place, hoping to get there before the Sarranids so as to choose the better
terrain for the Rhodoks to fight in. The King had already sent a messenger to whoever was
leading the army of Sarranids and challenged them to pitched battle in the chosen area.
The advantage the King and the Count were going for were, however, the simple act of
misdirection. If the Sarranids had scouts and spies in these lands, they would get word of the
main army as well as the knights, riding separately and in generally different directions. The
horses had the speed necessary to reach the battlefield even if they were far away and thus
reinforce or flank the Sarranids, but the main reason for the split was to split the Sarranid
army. When the knights were detected, the Sarranids would overly reinforce a flank or have

a portion of their army stay behind to respond to the knights trying to sneak in behind them.
Two days of riding away from Weyyah, the Count called a halt to the ride and sent a
messenger directly to the King. He wished to know how quickly the knights were needed and
also included a message that his own scouts had spotted a small Sarranid formation
marching to reinforce the bigger force, this one probably a retinue called to war. A day later
the messenger came back, stating the knights would be needed in three days at the
battlefield with fresh horses, but did not object to the Count harassing the small formation at
his pleasure. So the horns blew the melody to prepare the horses and men for battle.

There were no battle lines drawn. Sir Auvray suspected the Sarranid formation did not even
know that they were going to be attacked soon. As a harassment action this was not a battle
and technically outside any conceived codes of conduct. Only knights were expected to keep
to the oath each of them swore.
The knights were divided into four groups of ten, each of which would be expected to charge
the formation, push directly through the Sarranids and then regroup, one after the other with
one group coming from each flank of the formation at any time. The Sarranids could no
doubt hear the horn when it blew as the signal to charge. Sir Auvrays group was led by an
elderly baron, the name of whom he was unsure of. At the sound of the signal, the lead
knight raised his lance and shouted, the rest of the group quickly following in suit and
pumping itself up for battle. He found himself charging on his horse. Two groups had already
been through the formation, forcing it into some disarray. A large, fat man was riding a horse
in the middle of the formation, giving out orders to the rest who quickly attempted to follow
them. Sir Auvray followed from the corner of his eyes the slowly lowering tip of his lance,
moving it slowly so it would only be down just before it hit one of the men in the enemy
formation.
By the time the lead knight struck into the Sarranid soldiers, they had formed some
semblance of a spear wall. Yet it was not tight enough, the horses slipping past the spears
after the longer lances strike into the chests of Sarranid spearmen. [Names] couched lance
embedded itself deep into the chest of a man he guessed was a head taller than him, his
hand quickly released the grip from the wooden pole as he began fighting out of the Sarranid
formation. He drew his sword and began slashing at the men trying to unhorse him. Yet,
from the corner of his eye he could finally see the man leading the troops and his banner,
which had been kept low and close to him. The banner of the Sultan.
He spurred his horse onwards through the infantry, using every bit of momentum he still had
left to bring him closer to the Sultan. His fellow knights saw him break off towards the man
and quickly followed. Most were having trouble getting through the horde of spears as was
[Name], the man not picking up his challenge before he got through the layers of spearmen
still standing between the two of them. [Name] slashed down with his sword while spurring
his horse ever onward. The knights supporting [names] assault on the commander of this
small retinue continued to push on relentlessly in support of [name] and his bid to take the
Sultan but most had to break away from the fight bloodied badly. As [name] got past the final
layer of spearmen, his horse suddenly twisted under him, a spear finally getting through to
the vital organs. With a loud neigh the horse slumped to the ground. He managed to only
just get his foot out of the stirrup before being stabbed by the spears breaching the final

defences before reaching the Sultan himself. The spearmen lunged toward Sir Auvray but
with a command of the Sultan they stopped. The Sultan dressed in full armour much better
than that of [name], clambered off his horse and immediately a squire rushed out with a
shield for his liege to use.

Sir Auvray prepared himself, taking a wide defensive stance as he held his sword tightly and
his shield even tighter. The Sultan put on his own veiled helmet before lunging at him. It was
clear the Sultan was an experienced fighter, lunging at Sir Auvray with unbelievable speed
which was rebuffed by [names] shield. The two men were rather evenly matched with Sir
Auvray being the slightly better fighter. They fought each other un-yeidling until the Sultan
stumbled on the unstable desert beneath him leaving an opening for [name] to strike with his
sword, hitting the Sultans shield and sending splinters shattering from it directly towards
Sultan. At this point [Name] worked quickly on his new found advantage using it to disarm
the Sultan without causing too much bodily harm. He wedged the Sultans sword between
his own and his shield quickly pulling it away from him. As a final act [name] brought his
sword back to the chin of the Sultan, who in turn slumped to his knees, removed his helmet
and ordered his banner to be given to him. [name] held the banner for a moment before
casting it down to the ground. The news of their defeated liege quickly washed over the
levied spearmen who broke ranks in the face of renewed charges by the knights of the
Rhodok army, heading to the hills in an attempt to escape from the field of battle.
After returning to Weyyah news spread of the Kings victory over the rest of the Sarranid
forces under their marshal with the longbowmen performing exceptionally well against the
mamluk cavalry. As the Sultan was captured in battle he was forced to accept the peace
terms which the King gave him, he had to surrender the border towns and castles to the
Rhodok Kingdom and pay tribute in war reparations to the Rhodok kingdom for the extended
period of time they were at war for.

The end of the war meant [Name] would return home with his soldiers in tow. The King had
granted him the ability to use his own banner in battle over a mere standard as well as the
ability to command his own men if he so chooses as reward for the capture of the Sultan.
Peace ensued this long time of war and took time for both lands to recover. Sir Auvray had
spent much of his time improving his estate and the lands surrounding it so he can prosper.
In more recent times he has been travelling through cities to build his influence and wealth
by setting up trade routes and involving himself in local politics. Currently he is in [name of
place] to see what can be done for the local populace as well as familiarise himself with the
nobility there.