FictionPress.com - let the words flow| FictionPress.com - let the words flow |
| Home Just In Communities Forums Beta Readers Dictionary Search | Login Register Extras |
Author's Note: Right now I'm not actually sure where this story is going. The main protagonist of the story, Sir Paxmoor of Estleton, was originally going to have amnesia later on. But now that I wrote it lol, I really don't know if I want the character to go through with that. The background of the story is based on western Europe and the middle east between the 11th and 15th centuries. It will have elements of the Crusades somewhere in it later into the story and perhaps some Barbary pirates(which actually wasn't until the 17th century, but you get the idea). Estleton is like a combined version of pagan Britian(Roman era, in terms of religion) and medieval England(post-Norman Conquest). The other western kingdoms(Aposolonea, Gladesdern, etc.) I would consider to be more like medieval France before the Hundred Years War. The Shaldr Empire(which again, won't appear until later on into the story) is basically the Middle East(like Jerusalem, Damascus, etc.) around the time of the 2nd and 3rd Crusades(12-13 centuries). A basic summary of this story, at least the best I can do right now: the story follows a knight called Sir Paxmoor. Sir Paxmoor will be eventually captured as a prisoner of war, successfully try to escape, end up in the desert and end up somewhere else. That's all I'm going to say so far regarding the summary. I don't want to have too many spoilers after all.
Knight of the Sands
Part I
1
There was always a profound silence in the fog that hovered above the ancient Moorlands. Humans had always lived in the rolling, hill-like terrain since the dawn of time. Estleton, the most ancient of the western kingdoms, was also the most silent. The soundless kingdom owned all of the Moorlands and Lake Daln which lye a little to the east. The ruling family had taken their name from the Moorlands itself, the ruling family called the Moors. Estleton was not a rich kingdom; even the ruling family was not rich. The Estletonians were mostly a poor yet proud folk, the only western kingdom to embrace the old pagan religion called the Dragons of the Hills. More than three-fourths of the military was made of an experienced peasant and commoner militia, both men and even women taking up arms. The other quarter of the military were made up of knights or mercenaries hailing from the kingdom of Gladesdern or Aposolonea.
The ideas of feudalism had never even really hit Estleton as it did in the other western kingdoms. Though certain parts of feudalism had an influence on Estleton, such as knighthood, most of the kingdom was untouched by this foreign caste-like system. In terms of social class, men and women had the same rights. Women could even attain knighthood but it was quite rare to see the Estletonian women fight on the battlefield. Perhaps one in ten Estletonian knights was women.
It was believed that the Moorlands were born from the bones of long dead dragons, unnamed deities who lived and died early during creation. There were no churches or temples in Estleton, no religious book or organized rituals. The dead were simply buried in the high terrain that they had always called home. Female and male clerics existed to pray for the protection of long dead souls and to calm the dead dragons that lived so long ago.
A knight of maybe 27 years stood on a lonely moor with his painted stallion. He wore little armor, besides a helmet and a hauberk over his upper body. He had a steel arming sword less than a meter long hooked on the left side of his waist. It was the only weapon he could afford and carry. His horse had a saddle and reins, but no stirrups. The only armor on the horse was a shaffron for the head and iron crinet plating running along the neck. The knight had a wooden shield bearing his coat-of-arms, divided into two sections. On the top half of his shield was a strange symbol with three marks running through a line; this was the symbol of the Estletonian kingdom. Under the symbol was a fortification wall, signifying that the knight worked for the royal family. On the bottom half of his shield was a large green leaf on a bended field background, the leaf being the coat-of-arms of the Moor family. The bended field allowed him to be identified easily from other knights related to the Moors. This knight after all, was a distant cousin of the Moors. He had brown eyes and short black hair. He was quite short compared to the other westerners, only about five feet four inches tall. He had no wife or children and was a solemn, quiet man. He was not violent but if had to fight he would do so.
The knight had come to this lonely moor to pay homage to the Ancestor. The Ancestor had no name and could not speak. Each living Estletonian had a predecessor that they venerated, a family member who lived long ago. Although the dead were buried in the moors, their spirits could be seen haunting the Moorland countryside. The spirits of course could not harm the living. The knight had seen his Ancestor on occasion, a woman soldier atop a brown stallion. The fact that she was still mounted on top of her horse meant that she had died in battle long ago. The knight had no clue how old his Ancestor was, or whether she was his great-great-great-grandmother or if she was a distant cousin from the past. The Ancestor had a leaf on her shield, signifying that she was a Moor like the knight was.
But today, the knight didn’t see the Ancestor on the lonely moor at all. He would rarely come to the lonely moor anymore since he had more important things to do. Most of the time he came there the Ancestor never appeared out of the fog. Sighing, the knight finally gave up waiting for his Ancestor to appear. He knelt on one knee and said a quick prayer. Then as an offering for the Ancestor he laid a tiny glass jar filled with saffron spice on top of his rock pile shrine. He was about to leave when his painted stallion made a loud whinnying that startled the knight himself. Out of the fog came a ghostly figure astride a horse, wearing iron armor that clinked and clanked each time the horse trotted along the lonely moor. The person on top of the stallion turned out to be an armored woman, her face hidden under a type of helmet called an armet. It was the Ancestor.
The knight knew that the Ancestor must have been extremely wealthy in her day since she wore so much armor and had a decorated scabbard to hold her precious carved arming sword. Even her horse had an iron shaffron on his head, plated crinet(each plate decorated with figures and exotic animals) running down along his neck, and lightweight croupiere shielding the horse’s hindquarters. Such wealth didn’t even exist in the royal family; the knight knew that his Ancestor must have come from a time when Estleton was more involved in foreign affairs. She held out her hand, demanding the jar of saffron spice that he had put down on the shrine only moments before. She never said a word, not being able to speak. She had never shown her face either, but her black hair was always visible, never tied back but left gliding down her shoulders. The knight took the jar and cautiously placed it in the Ancestor’s hand. She held the jar tightly in her hand, eased her horse the other way, and trotted away into the fog. The knight stood there almost dumbfounded but was glad the Ancestor had approved of his offering.
Sir Paxmoor said one more prayer and then mounted his painted stallion. Just like his Ancestor, he disappeared into the fog, heading towards the town of Estlemoor he called home.
