Thread: From Peasant to Hero (MaliciousLullaby and DudeMeister)

Ulric watched quietly as the squires sparred in the courtyard, looking carefully in an attempt to pick up some of the moves they were using. Sir Vestor left them a few minutes ago to their own devices, and they pretty much were content to whack at each other with wild abandon. Ulric couldn't help but let out a laugh when Rowan conked Gerald upside the head, sending Sir Vestor's son to the ground. Oy, and what's this? A little shit taking a gander at swordplay? called a familiar and harsh voice. Sir Vestor saw Ulric crouching around the corner of the forge, and picked him up by the hair, swatting him across the face with a backhand Do you think it's funny you little shit? Don't you dare laugh at your betters you swine! Vestor barked, his putrid breath fuming past his yellowed teeth as Ulric cowered in fear. I'm sorry m'lord, I was only watching, I didn't intend to laugh Ulric replied fearfully, his hands coming up defensively. What did I tell you about watching my boys train? With how many beatings I've given you, I'm surprise my hand didn't turn brown you little shit, but than again some people never learn he said, raising his hand to strike the stableboy again. From the forge came a bellowing and cantankerous roar that could only mean one thing Gus woke up. The old armorer was a portly man with a thick grey beard that was usually blackened from the fires of his forge, and he came out of his workplace hobbling and swinging his hammer about and dressed in nothing but his breeches and an untied blacksmith's apron. Sir Vestor was a seasoned knight who rode into battle many times for his liege, but even he didn't want anything to do with Gus when he had his hammer out. Don't you go beatin' my apprentice you overgrown windbag. You know it was he who helped me repair the blades your brainless squires keep nicking. Have they any better sense than to block with the sharp edge? The blades are already dull and feeble as their under grown cocks Gus roared, his gold tooth shining as he growled at the knight. He was only a blacksmith, but he cared little for rank or station. He was responsible for arming every soldier in Lord Mulberry's host, and his work was valued. Although he treated Ulric little better than Sir Vestor, he and the old knight inevitably got into heated arguments. Gus liked yelling at the highborn knights almost as much as he liked to swing his hammer, but he'd never admit it. This argument went on for a while, until the hurried footsteps of Lady Mulberry's tutor rushed towards them. Lady Mulberry is missing. She's been gone all day and hasn't returned. The lord his organizing a searching party, and they need every knight, stableboy and hunter that can be spared she said, panicking. Vestor and Gus called a temporary truce as the old knight and the squires scrambled away to arm themselves and prepare there mounts, and Ulric made for the stables. It was so stupid of him, he should have alerted someone when Lady Mulberry failed to return at her customary time. If the worst should happen and the Lady was killed by wolves, it would be his head that would be next. Hey boy! You might need this! Gus yelled as he tossed Ulric a sheathed dirk. Momentarily unsheathing the long knife midway, he tied it to the back of his belt as he saddled up a courser with a black pelt. It was a more prized horse than Ulric deserved to ride, more for a knight than a common stable boy, but he knew from experience that this steed was agile and swift. The lord and what seemed like a mighty hunting party rode out, Ulric on his courser, and Vestor and his two squires on the heavy destriers. They were heavy set horses, prized and perfect for open battle, but not as swift as Ulric's mount. As the sun set and darkness began to set in, Ulric spotted the outline of a dead horse. Ulric knew it was Clover. He brushed his mane, and suffered many a bruise and broken rib from his hooves, he knew for sure it was him. He stuck two fingers into his mouth to whistle, signaling the rest of the searching party. When the torches from the searching party closed in towards him he made out the silhouette of Lady Mulberry, her arms thrown over her dead steed. That was when they all heard the loud howling of wolves, and the outline of a pack of at least 20 of them descending upon the field of grass like foreboding shadow of death. Ulric gazed in horror as the wolf pack closed in on Elarinya and her dead horse. The rest of the party was behind him, and the knights were on heavier and slower warhorses, and they would never reach her in time. Ulric drove his heels into his horse sending it into a speeding gallop, knowing that his only chance to save her would be to reach her before the hungry pack closed in on them.