Private Tales Of Knights And Magic

[Arlo Talworth]

A letter arrives at the doors of the Knights Anathaeum, sealed with bronze wax with the symbol of a blade.

Within the following is written in flowing hand:

To The Knights Anathaeum, Defenders of the Vale and the Ways of the Fae, Holders of Traditions Ancient, Nature Born, and Magnanimous Esteemed; Sword in the hand of the Errant and Aspiring, Educated and Educators in the Arcane, the Blade, the Code, the Cause; the Forgers of Knights from all sources of talent, pursuants of Truth, Justice, Honour and Integrity; Keepers of the Eternal Vigil against corruption and bewilderment from the correct path of Righteous Oaths and Vows of Knightly Conduct and Standards, do we, the Order of the Enshrined Blades, greet you.

We are of the code, we are of the oath, we are of the vow, we are the pledged instruments placed with careful deliberation into the hands of the desperate, the needy, the noble, the just, the beleaguered, the lost. Our number be few, but our influence cuts deep into the heart of the enemy and the mind of the foe that besets this great Realm, to offer Providence to the Just, to offer Providence to the Innocent. Our Knightly Order has functioned to turn the tide in many moment of peace and of war. Our discipline holds the line against calamity. Yet, we are beset by an ever growing threat which has claimed the lives of many of our Enshrined Blades and threatens to render our Order hobbled from a weapon we cannot command as expertly as fervor demands us to.

Magic.

The arcane that has unraveled too many lives of Enshrined Blades who stand true against the enemy as they face ever greater dangers from witches, warlocks, sorcerers, necromancers, and all manner of foe that has command over the fabric of reality. There was a time when we had hosts of our own masters of magic to guide and train our knights. Now, regrettably, we have but a flicker of our prowess against the arcane arts that held us true half a century ago. While we Enshrined Blades command powerful shields that protect us from harm which until these last five years, have been enough to resist and thwart our weirding foes, our foes grow stronger in their resolve and weirding ways. Speaking plainly, our arsenal against the arcane is lacking. Our defenses are not enough as they stand. They must be bolstered for our cause to continue. Each Enshrined Blade is of a Knightly Elite. Yet, they are undone too easily by that arcane threat which now is commonplace within the realm. This cannot be allowed to continue.

And so, we turn to you in our hour of need.

We who are pledged to provide providence to the just now ask for your assistance in this matter. We seek more techniques in defense against the arcane, to prevent the deaths of our agents in the field. Our numbers are few, and cannot afford further loss. We have been forced to decline tasks which demand our attentions for being ill equipped to deal with the blasted magic that would undo us. We are informed that your knights command the arcane with skill and valour.

What we ask of you is for one of our number to enter your company, to pledge their blade, mind and skill to learning the arts of magic that you command so that they may impart such techniques and lessons to give us a more appropriate, modern and effective method of warding ourselves from sorcery. They shall serve your causes, learn your ways, act as a champion to your will, and return to us once they have the new found facilities to guide our number to further greatness and prowess.

In return, we shall pledge our willing co-operation for providing us relief in our time of need. Agents shall find themselves serving your causes more readily, equipment made available, our intelligence sources yielded to you, and your wars perhaps becoming our own should your cause be great and your purpose true. We command no legions or regiments, but rather operate with individuals who have learned the killing arts since youth, who have ingrained the code and vow of the knight upon their souls and wear it as armour against consternation, who are champions of valour, steel and righteous will. Aid us in our task to defend ourselves and defeat the arcane, educate the agent we shall send to you should you accept our entreaty for knightly assistance, and we shall together serve the realm stronger for improving the arsenal available to the other.

Simply sign thy name below to authorise such a co-operation between our Orders, and the arcane shall burn your acceptance clear upon the tapestry of communication between us. We command but small miracles of magic by virtue of our past prowess in the field, this being one of them.

It shall take but a month for our agent to arrive at your door with all haste and aptitude to learn.

They shall speak the phrase, “Magic shall no longer breach the gates of justice, with your lock and key.”

Do not disappoint the realm for failing to answer us in this. We seek glory to the realm, and betterment of the way of the knight. Our cause is true, as is your skill.

Yours faithfully and true, in valour and consignment, does the First Hallowed Blade Sir Rastagar Castaban pledge to honour this accord,
Signed,
Sir Rastagar Castaban

Dingo

 

[Helena]

Bright shined the sun, and busy were the grounds of Astenvale. Many a squire paced through drills of fitness, their bodies run hard and run tired by the regiment barked out to them by the Pursuant of Life who instructed them. While others still clashed with practice swords in the fighting yard, and under the watchful gaze of Knights Sworn. One duel stopped quick by deft strikes delivered by the instructor who disarmed both squires that had been so caught i[ in the heat of the moment. The rebuke that came was more brutal than the blows she had delivered to them. But their prides would mend.

Through this liveliness walked Helena, the Captain of Dawn. She kept her watchful gaze, as sharp as obsidian spear-points that gleamed in the sun, ever in motion, ever in judgement of all that she saw, and her white cape trailed gently behind her steady step.

Her mind raced with concerns, though she did not show it through her placid expression, nor her tall frame so full of its quiet confidence. She knew that they were stretched thin. Quests sent their most capable into the very mouth of peril, to face horrors and nightmares and worse yet, the lords of the realm, whose greed and ambitions were more threat than any fiend or foe. For what could the Knights of Anathaeum do when a lord's edict sent woodsman deeper and deeper into the Vale.

Trees as old and ancient as Astenvale itself turned to stumps as wide as keeps. For timber. For coal. For all those things lords needed to go on growing their claims. Still, she would not let their vigil end. Still, she and those who trained around her, would go on, until there was no wild land left to defend, or Knights of Anatheaum who stood to defend it.

"Captain Helena!" A voice came from afar.

Helena turned to greet it, pulled from her grey contemplation. "Lilian?" She answered, when she came to see the Knight Pursuant.

The black armored knight came to a stop, and placed her fist over her heart in salute. "A letter has arrived, Captain, and it bares the Sigil of a fellow order." The Pursuant offered up the sealed letter, and Helena took it in hand, and examined the seal of bronze wax.

The blade was familiar to her, if only because she remembered her studies in lore. "It comes from the Enshrined Blades," she said between them.

"Ma'am?" Lilian wore a look of neutral concern. More a willingness to act than worry.

"They are a storied order, with a reputation far fiercer than our own," Helena almost smiled. "I wonder what they would want from us," her eyes looked up at Lilian and she gave her a quick nod. "Thank you, Lilian, I shall take this to my study and I will send for you if the need arises."

"Of course, Captain," Lilian bowed her head, and offered another salute.

Helena returned the formality, and ventured back into the Monastery.
-----
In her study, she sat behind an old and sturdy desk. A map of the Vale there upon its surface, along with small markers that glowed faintly with magic, they were scattered about the region around the mark which was Astenvale, and they seemed to pulse with life. Some even moved ever so slightly across the surface of the cartograph.

Her eyes read the last few lines, and then she smiled in true. "An offer, and half a threat," she sighed, and leaned back in her chair, glad to be alone in brief privacy, he put a hand to her temples, and rubbed them as her elbow rested against the arm of her seat. "An agent, he called it," she laughed, small and anxious. "I must seek Selene's council in this matter."

----

Upon the tapestry of communication, within the the hold of the Enshrined Blades, there burned a response.

Let it be known that the Knights of Anathaeum have come to accept this offer, and agree to entrust some secrets of their weirding ways to the chosen agent of the Enshrined Blades, in hopes of mutual betterment and greater understanding between the two orders, and does so by the pledges of both hallowed Sanctums of the order of Anathaeum, by the decrees of the rising Dawn and the falling Dusk.

Signed,

Knight Captain Helena of Dawn
Knight Captain Selene of Dusk

 

[Arlo Talworth]

From within a small chapel two knights, one senior, sixty yet still maintaining all faculties to fight and persevere against any awaiting foe, and one twenty four, with blue eyes that held an unusual intelligence and wit behind them, did converse and recite their vows to one another and the others that had been pledged to the Order of the Enshrined Blades. The younger of the two spoke at first as the other listened for any flaw in recitation.

“From each vow do I find a wellspring of strength of purpose, from each oath am I renewed in vigil, in every moment of peace do I find myself watchful for the collapse into strife, in every moment of combat do I find myself envigored to prove my mettle. My purpose is true to the twelve principle vows. I am ready to receive my task and I shall receive it with glad heart.”

“From each vow heard does a Hallowed Blade answer faithfully to the duty we must never ignore. Very good Sir Talworth. You do justice to the twelfth principle vow in your manner. Stand true to what I have to ask and say, for it bears importance for us all. Recite the twelfth principle vow to me now.”

Arlo did not have to close his eyes to recall, the words were engraved upon his heart and instantly were issued upon request.

“May my words be guided true, may I learn and learn again how to communicate in a violent world, may I know how to speak without falsehood, may I always be outspoken when required by my oaths, may I learn from the words and wisdom of others.”

“It is with this vow that you are now assigned in spirit.”

Arlo's heart leapt, for this was the moment he had been waiting for with eagerness in his spirit. A mission. A true mission, for him and him alone to answer.

“My Lord?” Arlo asked, his face flushing with excitement.

“It is true. You are assigned to learn from the words and wisdom of others. Because you have skills innate that others do not. You have dedicated yourself to sword well. But more than this, you used skills beyond steel to accomplish your graduating mission. Some brute their way forward in combat. You, did not. Tell me of your deeds against the wyvern nest, a test which almost all Enshrined Blades conquer to attain title.”

Arlo snapped his boots together and gave official report to the Hallowed Blade Sir Rastagar Castagan, who was equipped in the blackest of plate armour, a longsword nested within the sheath at his hip, his green eyes firm where his voice was soft. His hand rested upon the pommel of his sword as he listened to the account.

“I ventured into the wyvern's nest, with silenced boot, with my superior Sir Eli, who can vouch for my account. I was able to weave a small enchantment to prevent my venturing to be heard, and primed myself in a position to strike. Two of the beasts were lurking within the caves and I managed to find a passageway so that I was above them. I then wove a small blinding spell to obscure one's vision, and then leapt down to strike the other. The first blow handed correctly as I dove down, slaying it promptly. And in the beast's blindness, which only lasted mere moments, I advanced upon the second. Viciously did it use it's wings and tail against me, cracking me against the shoulder.”

Arlo paused as he remembered the shock and pain that had coursed through him.

"Go on,” Sir Castagan requested.

“I overcame the pain and with a single hand did I strike with my blade against the beast's throat as it did attempt to bite at me, and rip my life from me with sharpened tooth. I again, used a small measure of magic to guide my hand and blade, with the wreathed blue flame across the steel I carried so that it might cut deeper and true against my foe. I defeated the second, and brought back their heads. So it was that I became a knight in the eyes of my peers.”

A pause as the Hallowed Blade superior nodded and considered the account.

“At ease. You speak true to my enactment of Hallowed Castigation.”

Arlo relaxed, the tinge of nervousness about him gone as his superior relinquished his grip on the judgement that all Enshrined Blades must be held accountable to. Hallowed Castigation. The judgement of one's mission, one's worthiness and truth to the vows they had sworn to.

The Hallowed Blade continued, his green eyes sharp.

“Yes, the blue flame. It is good to hear you speak truly of such a thing. There were days were you were ashamed of your arcane gift, but now, you give account to your deeds honestly and without faltering to how you have used them to succeed. I do not think if you cowered from the truth of your skill you would be able to accept what I have to offer you. How long was it since your graduation?”

“Almost a year to the day, my lord.”

“And until now, you must have wondered, why am I being reserved from duty?”

Arlo remained silent and the two fixed their eyes upon the other. Arlo offered no answer. But he knew he had wondered it often. It was not a noble thought, but it was there within him, lurking, gnawing at him, as it so often did to newly fledged knights of the order of Enshrined Blades.

The Hallowed Blade continued.

“It is true that we all can wait for some time before our first mission. There is always some new way to hone our skills in readiness of the task ahead of us. But there was a reason why you have had to wait so long without hint or test for an assignment for yourself. And so I tell you truthfully, for now is the time where you are called to answer a unique call to duty. Are you prepared?”

“I hear and I obey, my Lord.”

“I will tell you this, in the wish that you should succeed and know the weight to which I burden you with in such a task before you. Which this entire Order is relying upon you Sir Arlo. There has not been one of our number to show such promising use of magic to compliment their killing arts for many years. Too many years. All Enshrined Blades must be able to resist the onslaught of magic using principle shields, something which you were able to perform admirably and without much effort. Some take years to master it. You? A few days. And what's more, you did not allow such success to cloud your heart with arrogance. You did not slacken your hands on the reigns of training. You still maintain the physical aptitude to fight as an Enshrined Blade is expected. With strength, vigour, zeal and poise. And so, I tell you of the mission before you.”

Arlo snapped his feet together again and held his head up high as his spirit did soar with pride that the day had finally come.

“The mission before you Sir Arlo Talworth, is to learn amongst a unique group of Knights, the Knights of Anathaeum. They have a mastery over magic that we must acquire. And you are to attain this mastery amongst them. I am sure you have noticed that all to many of our number have fallen to causes arcane. We must bolster our defenses against the sorcerery our enemies so often command. Our shields must be reinforced, refined and advanced in sophistication and understanding. It has been years since the first mages instructed us on how to command our shields, and it has been years since an Enshrined Blade showed such aptitude for magic that we might be given this opportunity to improve our arsenal. You are to learn. You are to serve. You are to act as an example to them as to how true knights function according to vows. You must not falter. You must represent us, in killing arts, in integrity, in function, and in form. You will learn the arcane arts they command, and bring back this knowledge so that you may instruct others on how to bolster their shields. This is your primary objective. But there is more to your mission. Are you prepared for a further task ahead of you?”

“Without question, my Lord.”

“Good.”

And it was so that Sir Arlo Talworth received his secondary orders concerning the Knights of Anathaeum, for good or for ill of both knightly orders, his instructions were given. And with it Arlo did find himself equipped in knowledge and authority to judge, to report and to hold account, to learn and impart, the knightly arts that kept both orders relevant and deadly in the realm.

*** *** *** ***

A month had passed since Arlo had been briefed. He had travelled through portal stone and ridden upon well trained war horse, with lance ready to pierce the armour of any armoured foe who might stand against him. Fortunately, such a demand had not been made of the young Sir Arlo. He had ventured into town and village, asking little except to stay a night and travel on in the morning. Some small problems were solved by virtue of his training, the odd bandit who ran into him were swiftly cut down, the downtrodden were given time and succour as best as he could afford it. But none so much as to deprive him of his chief cause. To reach the Knights of Anathaeum.

And now, as he made his way through the vale, he had found his proper place. Or so he hoped. He had been given remarkably accurate intelligence as to the location of what he sought.

Yet he had not been told of the beauty that the place had, and how it affected his soul to see such ancient trees preserved, protected. So often his ears heard the sound of felling wood in the company of his fellow knights as they built further palisades around their primary training site. But here...

“There are no such sounds as axe upon you,” Arlo said as he placed a hand to the tree. He almost felt the energy of the tree's wisdom under touch, but knew it as just a sensitivity to the essence of magic and life. A sensitivity which few of his fellows could understand or relate to. His mind did wonder how much of nature and how much of magic did course within the root and trunk of this plant life.

Had he further training with the arcane he might have tried to detect such a thing with arcane wit, but his time since boyhood with the Enshrined Blades had denied him such knowledge. His understanding of magic was thin, yet still impressive by the measure of his fellow agents. Almost all of it served his killing arts. The raising of a shield was required by all agents of his order, yet he was able to command much more than his fellows by virtue of his blood, by merit of his intelligence and attunement to such things.

When asked how he commanded such magics by his fellows, he had simply smiled and said, “Practice.” But the truth of it was that he had something of a gift that his fellows did not. And that gift was to place him here, in the territory of the Anathaeum Knights.

Sir Arlo stopped his admiration of the trees and pressed on. He had decided to walk on foot to get a better measure of the changing terrain, and to be wary of anyone who might strike at him for venturing into such a secluded area. He had been told that these knights were a secluded lot, and was ready to answer anyone who approached him with the passphrase.

Doubt raked his mind. Would they know of him and his cause? And what's more, would they suspect that they were to be judged by his given standards? While not the arbiter of the reputation of the Anathaeum knights, he knew that his account would have strong weight in the processing of such a thing. These were knights that defied Lords. These were the knights that protected the trees, the fae, the magical.

Sir Arlo breathed deep of the rich air that was so verdant.

“If I am to judge,” Arlo said, his hand upon his horse, “let me judge properly, with accordance to my vows and experience, and give honest report, fair and measured, to be best of my ability, in good faith that these knights are loyal to the code. But let me not forget the priority. To learn.”

His hand gripped the reigns and pulled it forward as he took the lead.

“Any knight slain is a calamity. And for a Hallowed Blade to speak so openly about the reason for our fallen being magic, well. If I can help end this plight, I shall do so, gladly. And so I go.”

And with that, Sir Arlo did make his approach, his young bearded and moustached face brightening in expression as he heard the distant sound of clashing weapons, not of full born struggles, yet of training. A sound he recognised well.

“Hail! You have a visitation!” Arlo shouted, his eager spirit resounding in his voice, and smile upon his face. For this had been the day he had been unwittingly been waiting for. For all the days of martial training and disciplined forging of his warrior spirit, he had never had the true prospect of unlocking his arcane potential.

That day, he hoped, was here, and he knew that he would be true to his mission with a gladness of heart, the secondary object would ground him with forbearance. The twelve principle vows did guide him to this point, yet his human spirit and the will of the magic within him would guide him further into knowledge.

“Hail!” he cried again as his eyes absorbed the exterior of the place the Anathaeum knights called home. He looked for someone to talk to. Perhaps a weapon levied against him. How cautious were these knights to strangers, and would they all be briefed?

 

[Helena]

A cry came from beyond the courtyard, and Chadwick, a Knight Sworn, turned to see who had hailed them.


Edwina, his twin from birth and in oath, cared not, and clunked him across the head with her training sword.

"Edwina!" Chadwick cried out as he stumbled, his kettle helm rattled. "Do you not hear that there is someone calling us?"

"No excuses brother, guard up!" she barked her warning and stepped to him with a jab of a thrust that sought to score against his chest. He managed to deflect the blow, only just, and put some distance between them.

"It would be rude to keep one who seeks our aid waiting, dear sister!" he grunted as he turned her wooden blade and cut at her, but she managed to turn the strike and step into his guard, shifting her sword to strike at him with her pommel and the whole weight of her body behind her. There was a thump and a crash and Chadwick found himself upon his ass.

Edwina smirked with pride. "Yes, so let us not keep our gest waiting." She said as she peeled off her helmet in triumph and stepped over her brother, some sweat sticking her hay colored hair to her face. A quick puff of air helped get the tresses out of her eyes. The half orc approached the entrance to the monastery grounds, all around them, the constructions of man melded with the will of the forests, walls crumbled into the thick growth of tree trunks, and in a neat perimeter, of one did look, they would see the tall henges, rune carved and traced with the feint glow of magic that shimmered across their surface.

"Hail, good sir!" Edwina called out, practice sword on her shoulder as she swaggered over. She noticed the bright full set of armor, that the man was tall and about her own age, mustachioed, and broad shouldered, and she smiled wider. "Are ye lost?" She asked happily.

Chadwick, ever dutiful, ran up beside her. "Edwina!" He called out, nearly. He closed the gap between them, and in a hushed voice he said. "That looks like the knight we are hosting, you remember? Captain Helena told us of his coming some time ago,"

"Oh?" She said with some further measure of being impressed. "Well, welcome, Sir Knight," she bowed, casually at the man.

"Edwina!" Chadwick reprimanded. He stuttered and then looked at the man head on. He cleared his throat and stood tall in his tabard and chainmail, his wooden sword down and at his hip. He closed his eyes, and clearly he spoke. "Welcome, Enshrined Blade," and bowed deeply.

Edwina laughed and smacked her brother upside the head. "Come now, you'll scare him off acting like that."

Chadwick grumbled and fumed as he rose up and turned to his sister. "Edwina, you are emberrassing the order!"

"I do no such thing, I treat the man as one of us, a contemporary deserving of respect and honest conduct."

"And, and I do not?"

The sister looked sidelong at her brother. "You answer that one for yourself, dear brother." she said with a smirk.

 

[Arlo Talworth]

Arlo regarded the two as they talked amongst themselves with his previous utterance kept in mind. 'If they are loyal to the code.' He could not help but hold forbearance as these two did not ask for the particular passphrase of him.

No matter, Arlo thought. Merely a slight lapse in protocol, perhaps to lure in one who would not know the passphrase, so that they might be seized more readily, perhaps drawn and quartered. But it was something he noted.

But he also noted that they bowed without threat, without hesitation, and without restraint. Their eyes did not meet his own as they bowed, the sign of peace between people, instead of the looming threat of danger awareness. There was a freedom in these knights that he found simultaneously off putting and charming. They seemed to be more of the people than of the constructions of etiquette. Or so Arlo thought for now.

He gestured towards the entrance of the place.

“Permission to enter your esteemed defences, and learn of your ways?” Arlo said earnestly, yet felt for his scabbard and tugged it closer to him. It was a nervous habit, yet one that kept him able to draw his steel readily should a challenge be announced. But in this moment of holding his steel, he only just noticed the arcane shimmering that wrapped lovingly around the henges.

“You have magic...so open on display, by the code, it's true,” Arlo said quietly and gave a satisfied hum sound. Such a sight was completely unknown in the Enshrined Blade's holdings. At least, such was the case for the young Sir Talworth.

He looked at Chadwick and Edwina in turn, his face more ignited with the curiosity. His hand relaxed away from his scabbard as he did so.

“If I may ask, what purpose do those runes serve? To ward perhaps?” Arlo asked softly, and gestured at the henges. “Over there I mean.”

Arlo cursed his lack of formality in this moment. He knew his lexicon was suffering for being so disarmed by the conversation the two knights he was exposed to. He decided to redouble his efforts to hold himself in good order. He, after all, represented the Enshrined Blades in this moment, and should not be found wanting by them, or by his eventual Hallowed Castigation.

@Helena