Thread: A Knight's Tale (SevenRose/Fun_And_Games)

Easy boy, Elizabeth said softly to the horse, patting him on the neck. Blue eyes overlooked the camp below, seeing the war horses and plates of armor shining in the sun like some picture perfect scene. It was, she thought, smiling. It had been a dream she had seen over and over at night and in training, and finally, there it was. Her chance to be a Squire to a real Knight Squad. Her chance to gain magic, to be a Knight. The first female to ride admist the men who were hailed as heroes, the greatest of warriors, the most noble and true of all men. It would start just as soon as she nudged the bay gelding down the hill. It wasn't the easiest of journeys for Elizabeth Aldair. At twenty one years old, she had been a servant in the local High House. An orphan, or perhaps just a child too many to a family who simply did not have the meal rations to support another child, had given her to the House to be raised amidst their serving staff at just two years old, skinny with the brightest orange-red hair of any around. She was taught at the age of four how to clean chimneys, and how to get into the smallest spaces of the cellars to find things long forgotten. At six, she could scrub floors and was a wonderfully fast message relayer between the two kitchens. She slept in a loft in the barn, near chickens and rats, and was best friends with a cat named Leo. At ten, Elizabeth began tending to the horses, as the ladies said they did not want the girl who smelled like the barn in the kitchens anymore, and spent her days cleaning stalls and grooming the animals, and spending many long hours polishing leather. Her reward for leather well shined was permission from the High Lady to sometimes take the old sway back nag for a walking ride around the property. That love of horses grew through the years, turning into being allowed to ride the sleek thoroughbreds of the ladies, taking them over jumps and keeping them exercised. At 15, though she would put her eyes on the ground and stay quiet as expected, Elizabeth could keep up with most of the men who went of their fox hunts with their horses. That was also the first time Elizabeth saw a Knight, up close. Stable hand! The Knight had called out at the edge of the barn door. Elizabeth came moving quickly from one of the stalls, leaning her broom against the aisle wall. Sir, she spoke gently as she approached him, nodding her head and curtsying in front of him. He easily engulfed her size, and his warhorse, a great draft cross bred for fierce strength and mighty speed, was the largest horse she had ever seen. A girl in the stables? The Knight said. Yes sir, she replied, eyes downwards at his shining leather boots. What an oddity, he said with a bit of a laugh. Do all the men around here stay too busy sewing and drinking? Elizabeth struggled not to smirk, but her heart racing in her chest helped calm that impulse. I couldn't say, she offered in return, knowing the answer that there were many empty kegs in front of the rich men's home, and many scarred hands from the boys who worked the fields. Speak up, child, if you are to do a man's job, you should act as such. Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, the older Knight's face smiling down at her. That's better. Do you ride? I do, she answered, a bit louder and more confidently. Good, he said, handing her the reins to his horse. Don't let your guard down, he bites, like all men. Mean bugger, but he would kill for a carrot. The Knight winked at her and shrugged as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Absolutely, sir. She took the reins and just stared in awe as the soldier walked away. She would find out later that was Lord Anton Sagaris, the leader of one of the Knight Squads in the area, highly respected and known for doing things that none other would do. His squad came by more than others, especially in the years following that, as rumors of war in the kingdoms began to spread and the Knights were expected to be patrolling and doing more. Once, maybe twice a year, the Lord would hand her his steed and she would look up boldly at him, a handful of carrots, ready for the dragon of a stallion and hoping for more kind words. Her admiration for the man was that of a child's love for the idea of Santa and the like at Christmas time. She dreamed of riding beside him in war, having a filly from the dragon horse of his, being a Knight. When she expressed that dream to the boys around the castle, being raised to have a chance at being a squire, they laughed in her face. At first, she backed down, letting the maids and girls call her foolish, a 'tom-boy'. It didn't stop her. At sixteen, the red headed girl had convinced one of the elderly instructors to teach her the basics of sword play, crafting her a silly wooden sword that she swung mercilessly at bags of corn, then against his own worn practice sword. Her hands grew rough with callouses for how much she practiced, and very rarely was there a day she wasn't running and skipping through the town, playing sword with the smaller boys who accepted her. When the boys her age made fun of her again, for playing with people her own size, Elizabeth took her wooden sword and went to war. She lost, terribly. She ended up covered in bruises and with a bloody nose, but, left her own marks. Some of them accepted her, and would spar with her when their real training was done. At twenty, Elizabeth was proficient in sword fighting and not the worst with a bow. She had saved enough to buy a young bay gelding who was too spooky to be a farm horse and too ugly to be a ladies' horse, and would spend her days off racing clouds on the country side. Elizabeth, you must stop playing games like these, the old ladies would swoon at her. You need to find a man, bear children, be a woman. You will never find a husband if you are running around like this. Then why find a man? Elizabeth would challenge, before returning to her barn and her horses. They were not wrong by twenty one, the girl was lonely. The boys she faught imaginary wars with had either gone to be Squires themselves, or to be Lords and rulers of their own small villages. Her days of playing Knight were seemingly done. So on the year that the Knights returned of her 21st summer, it was almost sad to see the shining metal, swords, and horses roar up to the stables. Lord Sagaris, she greeted the old Knight as he approached, her red hair back in a braid, boots cleaned, and freckles just visible under tanned skin. His stallion stopped just in front of her and barred his teeth, pinning his ears at her, before she opened her hand to a carrot. The horse snorted, angrily grabbing it before huffing his approval. Elizabeth, the Knight said, swinging down. I dare say he missed you. I missed him, she smiled broadly, petting the horse's head. Do you still fight and ride? Less, she replied after a moment, knowing her wooden sword had been gathering dust, as reality and age set in. The Knight studied her. A shame, he said, pausing. The Knights came and went as usual, but something did not go as usual. One day, Elizabeth was called to the Main Room, to meet with the High Lady. Worried she was losing her job, or had been out of line, she shined her boots quickly the best she could, brushed her hair, and tried to wash the dirt off her face. But instead of firing her, the Lady informed she had received a formal request that a Elizabeth Aldair report to his squad to begin training as a Squire immediately. The Lady, quite fond of the stable girl and her wild ways, read this news smiling ear to ear. Elizabeth's smile could not have been brighter or more disbelieving when she heard it. Thank yous barely make sense as she almost ran out of the house to hold back tears of excitment. It seemed like a big joke almost how could it be true? But it was. So, Elizabeth found herself here, right above the Knights, mounted on her horse, wearing new boots, and the leather squire chest armor over a white loose summer shirt tucked into dark riding pants, her red hair braided, falling over her shoulder, and all of her few belongings and equipment packed in a bag hanging off her saddle. The first female squire a dream come true. Alright boy, she said, smiling in excitement. Let's go find Lord Sagaris. She nudged the horse with her heels and trotted into the center camp, confident and already lost.