A Knight's Autobiography
As a boy I often played in the meadows by our cottage. Slashing and thrusting with a small grey stick I found by our yard. It was a strong piece of wood, and never seemed to break no matter how hard I slashed it. I would slash at the trees and invisible foes of imagination. With a strong grip and will, I would stay there for hours, attacking anything that was evil. That is until my Nana found me doing it. She knew my mother and father well, and when she saw me slashing away at the wind she looked as if a ghost grasped her heart. She immediately grabbed my wooden sword and tossed it away. Scolding me to never do such a thing again. I was frightened at first and then intrigued, for why would Nana be so harsh to me? She was never the sort to simply lash out for no good reason, neither is she one to wander to the tavern.Then it struck me, my father must have been a knight clad in armor. He must have died defending my mother, for Nana always told me they were very fond of each other. At that moment I knew why I had such a heart for adventure. However Nana had other plans for me. At the age of eighteen marks Nana sent me off to be a scholar, saying "The only kinds of villains you will fight will be termites and dust bunnies. Or so help my I'll leave my grave to spank you myself!"I knew Nana wanted me to live a peaceful life, she lived right after the big war everyone talks of. Nana is very old as well, older than any of the Kingdom's Elders I know for sure. I wonder how she lived that long, maybe it is magic. Then again Nana always told me magic is for the foolish and the stupid. That never made much since to me.Despite my hunger for adventure and fun I did as the old withered rat asked of me, oh I did... I stayed there for four marks. Reading, calculating, solving, writing, sleeping, and even dreaming of the many boring topics they forced us to study. I swore on my third mark that if I stayed sane long enough then I may live long enough to finish this. After the fourth however I finally snapped, running off.Oh the joy I had as soon as I left, with nothing on my back but the tattered robes of that awful asylum. I soon found my way back to civilization and managed a job with a small coal miners. I stayed for nearly a mark until I managed to finally find a blacksmith. Intrigued with the fine craftsmanship of the master's blades and armor I begged for a apprenticeship, wanting my own steel to adorn myself with.I will state this now, that was the most stubborn reptile I have ever met. I have met those at the university who were more stubborn than Nana, but this woman was harder than the very steel she forged. She claimed, "I do not want a stupid runt like you touching my tools." I of course may have been at twenty three marks at the times but I know I have seen squires of fourteen, and they were doing far more confusing things than banging against steel.After another mark I
finally convinced her to take me under her scaly arm and show me how to form the earth into a tool of protection. I soon found out that blacksmithing is a little tougher than I first thought, however I soon caught up the lessons. Then at the age of thirty marks I finally managed to save enough coin to buy the materials necessary for constructing my own armor. I made a expertly crafted suit of armor, made of a material the miner's called Aussuiliem. The material is apparently somewhat infused with magic of old, yet to this day I have not seen any magic come from it. I toiled to nervously sneak in to my master's shop just before the sun rose, hoping the neighbors would think I am simply working early for her. I managed to keep it up for several days as well, nearly completing the set of armor I needed.Nevertheless I was so hasty in buying the material I forgot of my stomach. On the fourth morning after my purchase my master found me in the middle of her shop with a growling stomach and asleep. Ignorant of what I was doing, she angrily tossed me out of her shop into the street, claiming that I was a drunken fool. It took nearly seven mornings after that to calm her down, and she only calmed down when I showed her the reason for my weakness.Her feeling on the matter were very confusing to say the least. At first she was astonished by the amount of work I spent on my armor, even doing certain techniques she had never considered. However that pleasure was soon turned to anger as she realized I was both starving and restless because of it. She then picked up what I had crafted and locked it into her own special chest which she uses to keep her very special wares, with a magic key that only works with her. Needless to say I was furious at this at first, until she explained to me that it is for my only good. For if I am to wear it, I need to fill it work something other than bone. So I, reluctantly, agreed. Spending the next week without my armor was torture to say the least, yet my stomach did get filled and my strength soon returned. After that I continued my work, under her watchful gaze as well. After another mark I finished my full suit of armor, yet I still did not have a weapon.My master recommended I should sell the armor to a wealthy nobleman, I was reluctant to explain to her the purpose of constructing my dream. I had to strive to stay away from her with the questions, not wanting to face her wrath a third time. She was like my Nana, wanting me to live a peaceful life under a comfortable roof in a comfortable bed with a comfortable floor underneath and a comfortable amount of food in my belly. This idea was torture to me however. Routines are the bane of my existence, I absolutely hate doing the same thing over and over, morning after morning, slish after slish, mark after mark. The idea was maddening, let alone doing it, that is the main reason I left the University.Yet despite my hatred of cycles,
my cycle of hiding my desires from my master lasted seemingly forever. That is until one day she found me near the guard's training area, spying on their weapons and how they use them. She saw my tail as easily as a flea finds fur, and her glares at me pierced my skin like one as well. After that she realized what I was after, a life of adventure and excitement.Later that night she sat me down by her anvil as she scolded me on why I should not do this, and why I should never turn to a life of the sword. Her pleas for my safety were for not however, for she found me the next morning at the same spot. Needless to say, her fury was like the sun.This time instead of words she demanded me to work, stating "Perhaps if you hammer the anvil long enough you will hammer all of the stubbornness out of your skull!" She then told me that I was to hammer until any thoughts of being a knight were gone from my head. This hurt me nearly as much as leaving my Nana, for I respected my Master as much as I did Nana. However I complied, letting my fur get damp with sweat as I worked from dusk to dawn, hammering down with as much focus as my drowsy mind could handle. The next morning when she came in, she found me like a undead. Slowly hammering down on a cold piece of steel with drowsy force, never stopping and with sleep clouded eyes. I truly do not remember the experience, I believe sleep may have truly taken my memory of what happened after that.The next morning I do remember that she seemed kinder to me, stating that, "My father wanted me to become a quilter, same as my Mum. We never spoke again after I became a forger. I won't treat my own like that...", Soon after she came to be with some material, telling me to use this for my weapon as it came from a valiant knight's blade. When I asked her if the blade is what failed him in battle she simply slapped the back of my head, giggling and calling me a smart ass.The only problem was I had no idea of what I was to craft for myself. I knew it had to be a sword, for bows and magic are definitely not for me. I may have been skilled with a hammer on a anvil, but a hammer in battle was a whole other battle of itself. Axes I always considered foolish, thinking them for trees and not monsters. No, a sword is what I was made for, and so I will make one for me.Yet what sort? There are so many kind of blades to craft, and so many have flaws. After nearly a mark of thinking I finally decided to craft myself a bastard sword, finding the name appropriate and for a strange fondness I seem to have for long blades. Not to mention the weight and length of one somehow felt natural in my hands. Once I started to create my ideal blade my master asked me what I will use for the grip. To be honest I have been so busy thinking of what sort of blade I should craft I did not consider it. I told her my dilemma only to be returned a hard slap again. She then called me an idiot and pointed outside,
"Well if you don't mind being like the rest of us and be more sociable. Go out to the market and see if there's anything good for grips, it's the summer market so the prices should be fair.". I nodded reluctantly, however I decided I might as well while I wait for the material to heat up, whatever material master gave me it takes forever to heat to a point where I can shape it.In the market I found not really anything I wanted. A woven grip is tedious, leather grips are fine but also smell horrible if burnt, the forming of a handle by steel is just as tedious as woven grips, and the new graze of 'magical' grips are too strange for me. I am not sure why anyone would want those, having your hand be magnetized to your handle is just a little too silly for me, not to mention the prices of it. Twenty silvers, can you believe that!? I have customers who come in the shop and buy a fair sword and shield for that price.After some time I gave up, deciding that the market was a foolish waste of time. As I walked back to the forge to see if the blade was finally heated enough to be hammered I saw my master talking to a merchant. This is hardly anything special, she is a very social cold blooded person. Always striking a chat with anyone foolish enough to try and flirt with her. They soon realize that she is both quick witted and sharp tongued. However I noticed something in the back of the merchant's cart, I only caught a glimpse of it but it somehow made me suddenly feel a string of nostalgia crawl down my legs, forcing me to walk to it. As I neared I saw what it was, the same ashy wood that my small stick as a child was made of. This set my heart a flutter, making my eyes water and my emotions flood. If I was not a man of strong will I most surely would have appeared like a crying pup right then. Luckily only my master saw my emotion flare, asking me what was the matter I simply pointed at the wood in his cart. Confused but understanding she asked the poor merchant who she had been hurting with her bluntness how much for the wood. After she paid the ridiculous price of fourteen copper, which she scolded me about for nearly three marks afterward, I went into the shop with my large piece of construction wood. The sight embarrasses me so to this day that I dare not dwell on it for long.After the embarrassing sight had finally ended I explained to her what was so special about the large piece of dead tree she simply stared at me like I was a idiot, claiming "You made me pay fourteen coppers for a block of wood that reminded you of a stick you played with in your yard as a boy... I swear sometimes you're the biggest moron I ever seen in my shop." At this I replied about how she said shop and not life. This was returned with a hard smack on the back of the head, and then "Smart-ass!" Suffice to say she was not very happy with my arrangement.The next morning I decided that if I am to have a grip on my blade that it is
definitely going to be made of wood. Seeing it as a symbol of the hardships that brought me to my journey, and as a grip to my childhood self. However me not being a woodsmith I did not realize that wood is the most annoying material to get working.Wood itself is fine for houses and carts. Yet once you try to swing it it soon starts to seem like a material 'for the birds' as the slaves say around town. Not to mention I have no idea how I am to place this on the handle, for unlike steel, I can not simply heat it and hammer it in. After several mornings of wasting away at the single piece of material I had of this marvelous wood, I asked my Master for help. Needless to say she had the same idea I had at first, not realizing that this is the same material people normally use for firewood.After repeated attempts at trying to figure out how to treat this ashy mystery wood, for we never bothered to ask the merchant where it came from, we finally went out for a woodsmith. Needless to say, we soon found out that there is no such thing as a woodsmith, simply people who smith with wood. We said Gods to it however and called them that anyway. Using one of the Slaves we finally found someone to help us. Apparently instead of tossing the wood into the smelter like we had you are supposed to toss the wood into a bucket of ice water, then once you are ready you can place it on the handle. This confused us greatly, however we went along with it. Then at the ending of the new mark I finally had my blade. It is a beautiful weapon that I keep on me still. I remember the day I finally finished it my master came in and asked me what I will name it. Confused by her remark I asked her what a name is, which got me another smack on the back of the head. Once I convinced her that I truly do not know what a name is she realized that she has been calling me a idiot, moron, and apprentice since the day we met. She then told me what a name is, it being a title of which you call someone by, similar to how you call the slaves Humans and everyone else people, only more specific. I then asked her what her name was, with a surprisingly awkward pause she stated that her name was Clara. I told her Clara sounds funny and she punched me in the face, saying "Well you don't even have a name, idiot! How's that for a stupid name?" After all the excitement went away I never really decided on a name for my blade, thinking that the whole concept of naming people was far too strange. I soon started to get ready for a shield, since I knew my journey would be short without one. However I am afraid that is when easy times stopped.One morning my Master sent me on a errand. To bring a suit of armor to a retired general in the next town. As I finished my errand and returned home I fear that home was there no longer. The town of which I lived more than half my life in is now decimated. All the houses either burnt are torn down, each road either bloody or
scattered with feathers, scales, flesh and what was left of the people. The sight is... too horrible to say in detail. Soon I found a slave that managed to survive, asking him what happened. He replied that the town got raided by a neighboring kingdom, apparently the king of ours did not see them as a threat. Since we were close to the border and so far from the capital we were the first targeted, and also more than likely not going to be rescued.I then asked him to show me where the smithy is and for him to follow. We eventually got there, although by the time we did the fires were nearly burnt out. The shop was a mess, needless to say. I guess the army needed weapons because they stripped the shop clean, not even the anvil was left. My Master was nowhere in sight, not even a cloth or anything. Her chest was stolen as well, along with her tattered bed. I guess the army took her as well. I was furious and grim at the same time. I was so furious with emotions that I simply well... embarrassingly fainted.I awoke sometime in the night, strangely the slave stayed by my side. Once I remembered what happened and where I was I asked the slave why he is still here. Strangely enough he replied, "To help those who wish to know what happened." When I asked him why he would do such a stupid thing he pointed out that I even asked him.After some time of looking around the remnants of what used to be my home I finally found my Master's chest. Along with a part of her. Angered by what happened I took up the hand of my Master and vowed vengeance, crying out for some sort of answer for what to do. I then found what was left of her near a burnt house. The sight was too gory and disgusting for words. I found her key, which had lost all of the magic from its steel. Using it to open the chest I adorned my armor and blade. At that moment I knew of a name for my sword, Clara.