It was an age of legend and myth. An age where heroes were forged and adventures were had. An age of triumph and tragedy. An age of greatness, an age of a golden period of Britain. At least, that was what they said, given the gathering of heroes known as the Knights of the Round Table. You, however, were not likely to participate in that age. Especially when...
"Who the hell is this!?"
"Your new page and squire."
"I don't need either of those!"
You have no idea how you came to be in the middle of a shouting match with what looked like a girlish boy and his mother in the middle of one of the royal chambers of the Kingdom of Lodonesia, but it was proving rough on both your ears and your nerves. You knew the two in front of you quite well, after all, but only, really, from a distance.
One did not get in the way of Lady Morgan when she got worked up, after all. Not even for her son. Mordred, it seemed, was perfectly capable of giving as well as he got. Your ears were already ringing.
"Every knight needs a servant, dear. It would be best to get a head start now."
"I don't need one, damn it! I can do it all myself!"
"Like clean your armour and sword? Deal with all the letters and-"
"It's not like I'm King of Lodonesia yet! I'll get one when I need one!"
"And then you will have to spend years training them. We've been through this, Mordred."
You got the feeling they had. More then once, in fact. The crown prince of Lodonesia; mainly because the other children of His Highness had decided to traipse off to serve as knights under the High King, King Arthur, was not exactly the picture of etiquette right now. Everyone expected Mordred to do exactly as his siblings had, too. One of them would have to return eventually, but for now, it was not really an issue.
"I don't need him. Look at him, he doesn't even look like he can lift a sword!"
"Uh..."
You have no idea how to answer that. Thankfully, you don't have to.
"Then make him lift a quill."
"I don't need a scribe! Can he even read?"
"Then teach him to read."
You felt just a tad invisible, as mother and son argued with each other over what was, no doubt, your future. You swallow. It feels like there is a large apple lodged in your throat. This might not end well for you.
"I don't want to!"
"Then find a use for him. Consider it your first assignment on your path to prove worthy of kingship."
"I am worthy!"
"Then prove it. He's just a servant. If you can't manage him, then what hope do you have to rule a kingdom?"
Mordred seemed to, briefly, shut up. His mother simply glanced at you, and you got a feeling that she was probably grinning, but you couldn't see her lips under the half-mask of cloth on her face.
"Tch. I can rule just fine. I was born for it."
"Then prove it, Mordred. Until you do, you aren't going anywhere near Londinium."
"What!?"
"If you want to go traipsing around like your brothers, then prove that your ready to deal with your responsibilities back home first." Morgan declared. "I have raised four children perfectly ready and able to take over for your father if necessary; I will not leave the last unworthy."
"You let Gareth-"
"The fact that your sister snuck out with Gawain is not a matter of discussion, Mordred. We won't be repeating that argument, either."
You felt a small pit open in your stomach. Just what had you been dragged into? Probably something long term and painful, but you had no choice, really.
Morgan seemed to be uninterested in continuing the conversation, for Mordred's complaints fell on death ears, her attention falling upon you.
"Boy, take care of my son. There will be consequences if you do not."
You swallow, hard, again, but you nod.
"Yes, My Lady."
"Good." You could practically feel Morgan smiling at you, and all your uneasiness practically melted away. "I will leave you two to it, then."
You fidgeted, just a little, as Morgan swept from the room with grace, although also somewhat like a bat. In a lot of ways, Morgan was thoroughly terrifying, the Queen of Lodonesia who was revered as a woman who could only be called a Goddess of Combat.
You didn't want to disappoint her, but at the same time, you had to wonder if you had been given a task that was outright impossible.
"GAH!"
Mordred's cry of frustration was something that you were somewhat becoming accustomed to, given the argument and a half you had been privy to. A fist slammed down on the table, and it cracked in two in a flash of red and a small storm of splinters. Mordred didn't even seem all that bothered, silently picking a few splinters out of his hand.
"Damn it. I don't want this."
You pluck up your courage. It doesn't seem like Mordred will acknowledge the situation otherwise.
"Your Highness?"
"Yeah, yeah, I know your there." He was outright dismissive for a short moment, examining and picking at his hand until he was satisfied every splinter had been plucked from his hand. "Alright. Alright."
He didn't seem calm. You did not avert your gaze. Mordred's eyes met yours, just briefly.
"Alright." He repeated a third time. "Name. What's your name? Who the hell are you?"
Who the hell are you?
"Well..."
"No, need more then that. Where do you come from, too." Mordred continued. "I need to know exactly what peasant my mother decided to saddle me with." The prince just groaned, pressing a pair of fingers to the bridge of his nose. "Damn it. I didn't need this."
You could agree with that.
[ ] Name
Name is by write in. You are male.
Origin
[ ] Orphan; you possess no known family. You are literally an urchin off the street that Lady Morgan has decided to elevate into one of the greatest honours. Unfortunately, that also means that you are not at all prepared for most of the work you need to perform. You begin able to train in all Thievery skills (normally, if you are not already trained in Lockpicking, Pickpocketing, Sleight of Hand or Appraisal, you cannot apply skill points to them), but cannot start play with any skills relating to administration work (Statemanship, Penmanship, Cooking).
[ ] Estranged; you have family, but your relationship is somewhat strained. Its great for your physical ability, since you and your siblings had to work hard to make ends meet, but you are just one of a brood who would not be missed if you suddenly vanished. Bonus four (4) skill points, which may be applied to any War skill, Woodworking, Metalworking or Riding. Additionally, become Trained in Woodworking, Metalworking or Riding (remember that these three skills require you be Trained in them to take raise them).
[ ] Schooled; you are an only child, but your family is educated enough to have passed knowledge on to you. Indeed, you are not on bad terms, and might visit them on occasion, but they would probably understand your situation. You have suspicions that Morgan already told them, after all. The Penmanship skill starts at four (4), the Cooking skill at two (2) and you have four (4) bonus skill points to distribute amongst the Demagoguery skills.
[ ] Warrior; you are the son of a former soldier who was forced to retire due to injuries. You have a feeling Morgan knows this, too. You know several of the guards about the city, and you are not unfamiliar with how to handle a blade. Bonus four (4) skill points, which may be applied to any War skill. In addition, you become Trained in Bow.
[ ] Magician; you are the son of a magician of what could, at best, be called a third rate master of parlour tricks. However, they say magic grows stronger every generation. The Theory skill under Magic begins at four (4), and you may select one of Fire, Water, Wind, Earth and Ether to become Trained in.