Knight For Hire

Sup, God of the new world here! Today's exciting tale brings forth a knight during the dark ages of a long dark time of fighting and killing for land; ravaged by a war of every small lord trying to get their hands on every little piece of land possible. A Knight for hire makes his home in such lands, living the life of a merc with the honor of a knight otherwise called a Warden. Knights from all the land fight under banners that they believe will change the land for their own good or benefit them. This Warden is one of those Knights for higher, strong silent type holding great skills of tactics and honor. His choice of weaponry is a greatsword although an arming blade always stays on his hip for emergencies. The story starts Now!

The time is Matins, no signs of invading lords or bandits. It seems Galruth stop sieging for this week. Good, I can help the monastery today.

Time hit Prime, bells rang their loud gong, and the monks gathered in the usual area. The very sight of a knight spooked them, luckily the monks noticed my armor. My family. An old priest holds out his arms, "My boy! Welcome back, son! Glad to see you in one piece!"

"Father Charles I am glad to hear your voice again. Thank you for welcoming me back with open arms." They embrace, and the hulking knight gently wrapped his oversized arms around the small weathered priest.

We sit down in the church, gazing around the room to take in the old memories of this once-lost church. "It felt like yesterday when I left to make a living. It feels surreal that it was almost five years ago."

Father Charles stares at the colored glass behind Christ, "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if you didn't go. There is no telling what you could do with that mind of yours my boy. *Sigh* Sadly, if you hadn't, none of us would be here today."

Father Charles and the monks here are threatened daily by bandits and rival lords, it was only for them that I had a chance to be here, so I pay them back every Sunday. The Knight gives a pat on the priest's back, "Come father, we have the whole day ahead of us." The two stroll outside the church chatting and lifting food around to different locations around the monastery.

Every day the monks live knowingly, that there is a great chance they won't wake up tomorrow. But they still keep on with their day like nothing can touch them. I guess that is the power of having faith in the lord.

A shout comes from the bell tower, "Raiders are coming, the raiders are coming!" The bells ring again.

The Father ushers the monks inside the church, "Quick! Hurry my brethren!" The knight turns to the father, "Pray for me father, for it may be my last." Father Charles places his weathered hand on his back, "If it's your time then so is ours." He shuts the churches' double doors, barring themselves in.

"Hear me, lord! I am Robert Godwin Sigismund, give me the strength of a hundred men so I may save your men!"

The warden gripped his longsword by the handle, turning the blade downward and kneeling, "Have mercy on me, give your mercy to my family."

The bandits run at him at breakneck speed. The first one is holding an axe and rushing; the warden grips the sword by the handle and blade blocking the first hit. Hooking the blade of the axe, he uses the cross guard to disarm the bandit. Robert slams the pommel in his face, breaking the bandit's nose, dropping him to the ground choking on his own blood. Warden continues his warpath turning the blade and deflecting a sword of another's before burying his blade into the bandit and lifting him off his feet to be tossed aside. Robert still holds the sword by the handle and blade, using the cross guard to get around the foolish bandits. Blood seeps down the fuller of the blade as he moves on. An archer catches the warden's eye through his visor; Robert repels a mace and digs his longsword through the man and holding him as a meatshield. Pushing towards the archer, he lets an arrow fly hitting the meatshield in the back. Warden shoves the man off his sword, the archer struggles to set another arrow. Warden wacks the bow out of his hands and boots him to the ground, Robert lifts his sword, gripping the longsword with both hands on the grip. He plummets the sword into the bandit's chest stealing his last breath of air.

Warden kneels there, his chest heaving slowly. The bandit's eyes glass over as Robert stands up, unsheathing his sword from his body and sheathing it in his scabbard. A trail of bandits lay motionless in his wake.

Robert Godwin Sigismund stands, looking up at the gloomy cloud-filled sky, rain falls from the dreary clouds leaking into his visor. "Thank you, God, I will honor my code until my final breath whenever you feel it's my time."