Thread: Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

What was that? Friderick asked when Jacques said something under his breath. He glared at the squire, thinking it was some sort of backtalk but the young lord said nothing and turned to walk away to go about his chores. He sighed and followed after, mounting his horse and getting ready to ride out. In any case he decided the squire he had received would be good enough. Good enough though might not help him win the tourney though. But he couldnt judge Jacques Lancaster on such a tremendous expectations, not on his first few days. It might take months to produce a competent squire who knew his knights needs for jousting and so forth. Yet despite all the hiccups of this day, the boy certainly had potential. And that should be Fridericks only concern, growing that potential. The journey to Archmouth was uneventful for the most part. They rode from dawn until dusk with few pauses. They had an organized camp hierarchy, with divided duties and responsibilities. Jacques was put on wood and kindle collection with another young squire, who was relatively a nice lad, the younger son of some Count. Yet when time allowed, in morning and before night, Friderick took Jacques to train and drill, though mostly with the heavy shield. It had to be heavy if it was to stop attacks of sword and spear. The boy would develop the muscles for it soon enough. In other cases, he had Jacques do some calisthenics, such as stretching and other endurance tests. It was all a part of the path to be a knight. Yet they were all men. They could be merry, singing as they rode, telling jokes, bawdy or otherwise. They prayed in one group with zeal and decorum. Conversely, they also had their urges. They drank plenty. They spoke of feminine conquests though Friderick was silent and had a distant look in his eyes and described their favourite bits of women. The squires to whom Jacques was assigned was no different, though they all lacked experience. And it might be awkward for Jacques as well, for even though there was the one burly knight who hated gingers, unfortunately Fabien thought redheads were beautiful and often described it. But his treatment of Jacques was always mockery and taunting. The other squires though left Jacques well enough alone unless there was some duty to perform together. Finally they arrived at Archmouth, the castle of Count Liudhard. The castle and its corresponding villages was nestled against a river that joined a vast sea. The wealth of the County came from taxes and duties imposed upon any barge or ship traveling to and fro, bringing tremendous revenue to the Count who used it to fund this tournament. Many days of games and feasting were planned. The roads were packed with other knights, their entourages and retinues, nobles wishing to spectate and innumerable commoners, tradesmen, and artisans attempting to sell their wares to the passerbys. Every home, inn, and manor was billeted. Their group had to camp on the outskirts. Afterwards, Friderick came to find Jacques, geared and armored. Come. We must go enlist in the rolls and see where our placement shall be in the qualifiers. Friderick said. Bring the banner. And make note of where the smithys are. Youll be visiting them a lot on my behalf. You know one tournament I broke eleven lances during one match? The tips of each have to be blunted, so as to not cause bodily harm to the other competitor. Killing is strictly forbidden, though it has happened. Which is why maintaining my armour is a part of your purview as well. Not because I cannot do so myself but so that you learn the intricacies of plate and harness. Do you understand? Friderick lectured Jacques as they walked into town. Horses, unless to pull carts of supplies, was forbidden within the gates. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of a complaint when some noble with his silk slippers stepped in a pile of horse shit. To be on the receiving end of a tilt, even with armour and blunted tips, is still highly dangerous. A horse carrying you at full gallop to strike an opponent is still deadly. Imagine having someone three or four times your weight tackle you to the ground. It will still hurt. Very much so. Dont be surprised at broken limbs and bones. You ever see a shoulder dislocated? Mine has been. He shrugged as they walked through the town, one of many knight and squire groups, finding the registars office within the courtyard of the castle. There were at least eighty participants. Only sixteen slots in the actual jousting. There would be melee qualifier matches beforehand, to begin soon. The winner of those duels would earn their place in the tilts. Friderick signed his name. The Counts servants would reach out to him when it was time. They had the day to themselves. I would suggest getting a drink but I rather not see you provoked by another comely maiden, little lord. Friderick joked dryly about Jacques. But he wouldnt care much for the answer as his eyes landed, within the swarming crowds of people, upon a lady. She was riding her finely saddled horse, legs joined together on one side, surrounded by handmaidens and servants. Her hair was freed, bound with a circlet of silver, and her hair was raven black. Her face shone in the light, as white as milk, with not a single blemish. Her garments were extravagant, the envy of any other woman, and a necklace of fine ruby gemstones lay around her neck, the largest descending almost by design into the valley of her chest, barely visible. She held her head high. As if in a dream, Friderick began to walk towards the woman. Here was Lady Auriane of Bertilion, young and yet unwed, with a rich father and the infatuation of Friderick, the Baron of Alnerwick. The two had grown up together and he had been fascinated with her ever since, perhaps the first real beauty he had ever laid eyes on. And never forgotten since then. Why dont you goperhaps find a messenger to write to your father or something. He said dismissively to Jacques.