One Last Knight. A Series of Short Stories.

The morning sun had just crested the horizon.

My lungs ached as I drew in a deep and steady breath of the warm, smog-laden air.

It was time...I was always awake just before dawn it seemed. It never failed and had been that way for as long as I could remember.

As the fog of war began to subside, I drew my handkerchief and gently took the sleep from my eyes.

The cloth felt cool and damp against my skin as its magic took effect. This was no ordinary handkerchief, but a gift from the Queen herself. It was thicker than the average, stark white with QS embroidered at its center in silver and crimson.

Tiny Lockhorn goats danced around the edges just atop the seams and all around its borders. The Queen's favorite beast no doubt, and the honorary symbol of the Queendom of Naeari.

This might I add, was in stunning detail. It was enchanted with some strange spell that kept it not only perpetually damp but also CLEAN.

Magic I tell you...I was never very...GOOD at it.

To say the least...and even carrying this handkerchief made me a bit uneasy as I had never had the time or opportunity to work very closely with any such thing.

In the small village I grew up in there was very little magic usage going on or even needed in our day-to-day living. Looking back I can now understand that many small things played into this fact. Firstly, magic has always been chaotic and hard to learn let alone use.

This takes considerable time and training to master.

Time and training that were ill-afforded in our tiny corner of the world.

Secondly, not just anyone could pick up a tome and start learning to be a Mage.

I heard once from a group of traveling Mages and merchants that essentially:

"You're either born with it, or you aren't"

I am ok with that.

Outside of starting fires and maybe lifting heavy objects, I have never had much use for the stuff so I simply had avoided it. A bit stubborn and foolish of me...

Thirdly and of most importance, my mother was...

Well, my father used to tell me stories of a band of rogue Mages that passed through our village when I was hardly a toddler.

They were looking for people who possessed something they called a "Spark" or "the ability or potential to use or draw magic to one's self."

Apparently, my mother was one such person...and when Mages ask for something one would be wise to never turn them down unless you have the strength of arm or might of mind to stay their hand...

I can't remember her face.

Her voice.

She was never seen again.

Time was passing still, as I sat around wasting too much time on memories and nostalgia.

It was time.

It was REALLY time!

Today was the day I would be heading up to the prestigious, Knight & Mage school that is Garth Verlore, and importantly, H.S.S

Hellinbrachyn School of Squires.

It was time that I left this war behind. and did something more...productive with my life.

After I had been relieved of my duties of war, I had vowed to make sure I would never have to do any of the things that said war had required of me...ever again...

I would become a Knight Instructor at Garth Verlore, for one of the five campuses known as Grounds.

My chosen Ground was known as Hellinbrachyn.

It is an environment not OF war but dedicated to the arts and studies of it.

This was my new path.

No more battles. No more war itself (so to speak).

Little did I know that I would soon be leaping out of the kettle and into the flames.

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