Knight of Wessex (A Written World Quest)

Audrey Eotenslaga could boast of more opportunity than most others of her time. Being the eldest daughter didn't usually amount to very much in this day and age, but when there were no male-line issue in a time of great crisis—as well as matching opportunity? Her God-gifted Talents could be noted, catalogued, and most importantly, recommended to study in one of the great Keeps of Wessex, where those who would stand as shield against the heathen tides could be instructed in the arts of war and peace alike.

It was an opportunity few had at all, let alone a woman like herself. Of a class a hundred strong, she had counted perhaps two other women. It was one she grasped onto voraciously, adhering strictly to required conduct of behaviour, showing tremendous diligence in her studies, and striving to surpass all others—all the while well aware that such were the minimum standard to advance.

Any failure to follow the standards would have seen her cast out of Page school, yet how could such a thing have befallen one such as her? Thinking such a thing of her was an impossibility. If one were to look up the term 'successful' in a word-list, they would find the name 'Audrey Eotenslaga' listed at its side.

So it was no surprise for her efforts to be rewarded, for she had been selected as a Squire! And not merely by some hedge knight, but by none other than Reinald Vieux! Knight of the Seventh Decade! Hero of the land! Surpassed by only a bare handful in prowess and reputation! Oh sure, he was a foreigner from the Continent, but he had made his career here in Wessex for well over fifty years now—longer than even her parents had lived! That was more than long enough to call oneself a native son, right?

Regardless, the important thing is that Vieux showed wisdom in choosing her, Audrey Eotenslaga, to be his Squire. He had trained several Squires over the years; and, some were even still alive and earning renown in the King's hosts—despite the considerable efforts of the Danes, of course. The point was, he was a proven instructor and a master of his trade, and he had picked her out of every other Squire-candidate. Wise indeed to see her obvious superiority.

She couldn't help but grin as she brushed her blonde hair—ever radiant, even here with the river-spray splashing up in it—out of her expression. Her cornflower blue eyes, accented by the blood-red slash of her heritage, that of the giant-slayers of old, glimmered in the sunlight as she bounced on her heels.

The furrowed brows of the crew quickly put a stop to her bouncing; her strength more than enough to rock the boat even with such meagre motions. Though a few flickers of anger sparked in her heart, the embers couldn't catch—not with the sight now lying before her now.

The place where she was to meet her Master for the very first time, where she would be anointed as a Squire and take up her position at the side of an experienced Soldier of God. The destined shore of the Avon-Warwick, the river upon which she rode even now, drew ever closer as the great burh rose in the distance.

Warwick, the fortified centre here on the border, established by Lady Æthelflæd with her father—Great King Alfred's—assistance to serve as sentinel against the Danes who might seek to traverse the Avon-Warwick to strike at the heartlands of Wessex and Mercia. While the frontlines may have shifted somewhat since the burh's founding, it still remained one of the major obstacles to any overland Viking incursions.

Its sandstone walls kept careful watch over the landscape as mortal servants kept an eye on all that passed beneath its aegis—it would only be a waste, after all, for Thanes to spend their limited strength on such lowly duties.

Though, Audrey grinned as a certain thought came to mind, as Warwick now had a proper garrison of Knights—one including her Master, at that—perhaps the Thanes would take the mortals' place on the walls?

Regardless of the humour of her thoughts, Audrey turned her attention towards finding her to-be-master.

Reinald had said in the letter of recognition that he would be meeting her after debarking—but how would he know? Did he have some strange insight? Some intuition or secret art born from over a century of service? Perhaps he simply had a keen understanding of weather and scheduling and could predict in advance when she would arrive?

The cry of a falcon filled the air and she wryly shook her head. Looking up, she waved a hand at the sky-sailing bird; its ash slowly drifting in its wake as it circled high overhead.

Or, instead of engaging in such foolish measures, Reinald could simply have one of his Companions stand watch and alert him when her ship was on its final approach. The falcon of a Knight of the Seventh Decade would have vision more than sharp enough to pick out a gnat from a haystack, let alone a girl of fourteen summers in a Page's doublet and bearing a fine blade.

Sometimes, as her teachers had driven into her head again and again, a simple solution is better than a complicated one. Though unsure if this was an intended teaching moment or not—like if Reinald were assuming her teachers knew nothing—the thought was in her head now, and would not so easily leave it. It was a good concept to internalise by any measure.

Her feet tapped a nervous staccato as the ship began slowing down, oars pulling in and reefed sails tucked away. The goings back and forth of the people became more clearly apparent as the distant closed–from ants scurrying back and forth to formless blobs of humanity, each performing their own duties in accordance with their position. As was perfectly right and proper.

But her eyes were on the Ash-Falcon, circling above–and then her gaze lowered to where it performed its circle–there to meet the gaze of her Master. A grey-hair who had seen more battles than many had seen years, obvious lines and trace wrinkles adorning his features. But even still, he seared with burning faith; his body, though aged, was the well hardened physique of a veteran.

The ship jostled as it made landfall, the hull running up on the shore. Still, despite the sudden intrusion in her thoughts, she kept her balance far easier than any of the crew manning the craft—including the ones who had the foresight to brace!

She was to be a Knight, after all, and who had ever heard of a Knight falling because of a little unforeseen motion? Naturally, she wouldn't keep her Knight-Master waiting.

One hand went up to the guardrail, and she vaulted up, her Zeal-fueled vessel taking her across the remaining distance to solid earth. Landing with a graceful tap on the grassy shore, her follow-through keeping her well away from stumbling and potentially looking bad.

She had many strengths, but she was particularly proud of her skills in the discipline of Soma, the strength of the mortal vessel. Without even tapping into her more transient miracles, such a feat of athleticism was a simple task. She slowed on approach, not wanting to overly alarm the common-folk or look too eager, but a little bit of excitement was fine, right?

"You're the new girl, yeah?" Though Vieux's voice lifted like a question, his flat expression told her it was nothing of the sort. "Decent showing of the basics, at least you've got the fundamentals down, but you'll not want to be showing off more than you have to. Give too much away before the wrong set of eyes and you'll wake to a knife between your ribs."

He sat astride a great steed as he sat with folded hands. Though obviously not his true Charger—which was said to be a smoke-wreathed nightmare from the rumours Audrey had heard—the mount was of fine breeding nonetheless.

Next to him was a rouncey of…

Well, it was a horse, but who was such an ordinary steed meant for? Surely not he-

"Ride with me," he nodded briefly towards Audrey, catching her own questing eye. "We've some matters to discuss, expectations to make clear."

Audrey blinked, confusion mixed with shock smothering the indignant sparks rising within.

"We don't have all day," a grumbled sentence kicks Audrey into motion.

Given an invitation like that, Audrey gave a quick bow of her head, and took up her own seat. The saddle was well worn, obviously not the first time anyone had ridden it–the scent of leather was faded, and there was an element of sweat in there too…

"To begin with, you'll be acting as my Squire." Sir Vieux started, nudging his own mount forward, as it plodded towards the central structure of the burh. "I've a great deal of duties and not nearly enough hours in the day to handle it all. The King's made the arrangements with my peers to temporarily coordinate our patrols so we can spare the time to teach the next generation, but you will be expected to pick up the lower level concerns once I'm confident that you won't get yourself killed the first time you draw iron."

Audrey starts to bristle, but he raises his hand. "Save it, I've read your scoresheet. You're good, but you're untempered and only just entered the Second Decade. You'd be enough for a border-hopping Trollmen swarm or the odd bandit, once we've picked up your plate, but the average Viking'll put you in the ground." A sharp stare silences her protesting words, "That's not a dismissal of your ability or your potential, it's simply that we can't afford losing half our numbers every generation because they thought they were 'oh-so invincible' with their Plate and ended up getting their heads cut off by some idiot Norseman who blew all their ordstirr in a single death-or-glory strike."

Audrey's mouth hangs open partially, her reaction blunted, then quashed by the context. "Has… Has that actually happened?"

"The fact it's happened more than once is already too many times." Sir Vieux shakes his head helplessly, a wet cough hacking up from the back of his throat. "We've learned since, we've adjusted our training and the pace that we introduce our Squires to the real business. By the time you've completed your instruction, you'll be actively assisting me in my own operations, and I'll determine when you've warranted your spurs. How long that takes depends on you."

Audrey nodded then, mollified by the explanation. "So then, what will you be needing from me in the immediate future?" She asked, curious now that she knew she wasn't going to be diving right into the thick of it.

"For now? I'll be conducting a thorough assessment of your strengths, any blind spots that your previous instructors might have missed correcting, and generally getting a feel for your aptitudes and where you can make improvements. In the meantime, you'll be keeping a decently low profile, and trying not to cause any trouble."

"Is it because of the whole…" Audrey gestured at herself, her motions hesitant.

"Plumbing difference?" A tilting head added to Vieux's answer, "Nothing of the sort. The local Thane whelps bristle at our presence, they feel it's some slight against their prowess. Normally that wouldn't be a great concern—a little friction is unavoidable. But since Leofgyð picked a prime time to buy it, there's not enough cooler heads around to flush the piss and vinegar."

Audrey flushes slightly at the crass words, but chooses not to comment on the mild cursing and the frankly utter lack of care for decorum the more experienced Knight showed.

"So, in summary, don't get caught up in their business, the King's made it damn clear that he doesn't want personal opinions or personal glory-seeking to get in the way. Especially after the Daw's Castle affair where he had to get Vikings to sort out a bloody tax evasion scheme, because everyone else was too busy covering their arses to stop it from getting that far in the first place." He spits to the side there, shaking his head. "What a mess from end to end it was."

"Well…" Audrey begins, seeing this as an opportunity to make a point. "If they needed to resort to vikings to keep the peace there… I suppose it's a good thing that I'm here now." She tries to grin. "Show them how it's done and all that, right?"

Sir Vieux smirked at that. "We'll see if you can follow through on that, but if the reports I got are any indication, you might very well do so given a bit of proper seasoning. But one step at a time–first of which…" He glances back forward, nudging his mount around the bend, the winding road to the burh's central fortification nearing its summit. "Introducing you to the other sorry folks caught up in this particular training cadre."

The guards standing sentinel at the gate took notice of Sir Vieux, slamming spears into shields in salute–a gesture responded with a nod and a murmured benediction from the seasoned Knight. He then gestured for Audrey to continue to follow. "First and foremost is Wesley Waltone, I'll be occasionally tapping him for some advice, because he's the foremost expert among the Knights of Wessex in the application of the Hama Field. I can't use it myself, but I can at least walk you through what he's written down on the basics. You'll mostly be responsible for your own development in the field though. I'm already committed to another application of Pneuma."

The breath of life, the secret little spice of the techniques developed by the great Emperor Charlemagne in his illustrious career. That was Pneuma, a technique that was formless–and thus could become nearly anything. It took well to the Hama-arts employed by the Anglo-Saxon folk of the Isles, but virtually every folk who employed his doctrine had their own specific take on the practice.

"Second is Brock Howlande. He's a good man, and probably the best Martial Artist in Wessex. The man's made a point of making a pilgrimage to virtually every great School and at least earned the right to teach their techniques, even when he hasn't bothered to master them himself. Some people look down on him, because Soma doesn't allow the same division of attention, or amplification of Grace that Psyche and Pneuma share."

He lowers his voice then, just enough so it wouldn't carry beyond the Knight and his new Squire. "I'll tell you a secret. He may not be flashy, but the man has a good chance of outliving all of us. Soma may widely be associated with the body and the martial arts, but we don't call it the Vessel for nothing. A strong vessel can contain a stronger spirit. Sure, you can just overflow the chalice–but you're getting a lot of spillage in doing so. I've seen plenty of those back on the Continent who decided that all you needed was a strong Psyche and neglected their Soma–and one trait they almost all universally shared was a certain degree of instability of character and their power. You're more blessed than you know by having such a fine talent for it, and don't let anyone tell you that knack is a waste."

Audrey couldn't help but let her grin widen at that remark. She already knew that she was blessed, but it was nice to get confirmation from time to time.

"Moving along though." Sir Vieux let his voice return to the more conversational point of view. "Next up is Leofric Birde, he was training to be a Priest early on in his career, but took up the sword during a Viking raid and found out he had both a talent and a calling for it. So he took on a different sort of holy order. He's by far our best expert with Prayers here in Warwick, give the man some cover and he'll whip some actual miracles out in a pinch. He can be a little awkward, but he's well meaning, and a damned good man to have at your back. I imagine he'll be training his own Squire in a few tricks of the trade, so it'll be interesting to see if he can pass on some of his tricks to the future or if he's just a one-time Miracle."

Audrey was finding herself enraptured by these stories–many had heard of the tales of Knights, their strength and courage matched only by the King's Thanes themselves–and much more present in regular life to boot. But to see such a distinction between them? It made her feel far less nervous than she had been before. Would it be so strange for one of them to be a woman in the future? Probably not, she would need to work hard to stand among them in the future.

"Then finally, there's Slade Eldred…" Sir Vieux's expression soured. "He's… Fine? I guess?"

"Just fine?" Audrey asked curiously.

"Well, no, I'm sure he's a snake, but his performance is just… Fine? He does his duty, he performs no faults, but…" Sir Vieux's expression grows darker still. "I would recommend you not get too close to him, I've seen his kind back on the Continent–he's not doing this work out of a divine calling, or out of genuine talent, but because it serves a particular political agenda. He performs precisely at the level that is required, and no more. That's… Fine, but he could be more, and someone as silver tongued as he is?" He shakes his head, like a shaggy old hound brushing off water.

"It sits wrong with me, he's up to Something, I'm sure of it, and you should be wary about getting caught up in whatever his scheme is. Politics are the death of the careers of many good Knights–let alone a freshly minted Squire. Best keep away from the whole business."

"Until I've done well enough for myself to stand on my own?" Audrey asks.

"Now you're getting it." Sir Vieux allows himself a sharp grin. "Right, I've got a few meetings I need to get caught up on, there'll be a meeting feast tomorrow, but you'll have some time to introduce yourselves to the other Squires and be shown around the burh. Before we part though, I've time for a few questions. Anything you think you need to know before we get started?

[ ] Any Questions?

Update kind of exploded a bit in size, but to get this done in time, we're splitting it up. You've got a chance here to ask a few simple questions of your Master before you head off to familiarise yourself with the area. Be reasonable, and don't think he knows everything there is to know. He's experienced, not omniscient, and he doesn't have time for big long stories either. Keep it to things you think were missed, or that you want a bit more detail on.