“I am wary of anyone coming from the Temple, call it prejudice. First off I don’t trust monks, second I don’t trust any organization that is rumored to be affiliated with the Silent Ones of Keoland, especially when one of their most gifted students is here in Chendl,” rasped old Lysaer waving away the perfumed pipe smoke.
Raising an eyebrow, Serkinis mused, “What did you say about him being gifted?”
“Serkinis, my eyes and ears tell me that unbeknownst to Market he is the most gifted orphan to leave the temple in five decades,” mentioning Lysaer sipping on his spiced wine, trying to fight the chill. “He is a paradox. What I mean by that is he is clearly of Suel blood, just look at him and he hails from the Temple of Enduring Silence, sponsored by the Silent Ones, he speaks the common tongue with a heavy Bakluni accent and no one has recruited him yet. It doesn’t add up,” spoke Lysaer.
“Don’t forget that the Silent Ones are rumored to back the Temple and he is an orphan so he has nowhere to go. I believe he is looking for purpose and acceptance, to be part of something grander than himself. One can even say something akin to a family, like the Hart. Is that not the way you felt when you joined the Hart. We can give him this,” smiled Serkinis.
“He is strange. I understand people like him and that he has no trouble making friends where he goes, but it is as if he goes out of his way to befriend outsiders,” again Lysaer playing the devil’s advocate. “What I mean is that he would rather hang out with an elf or a dwarf that a human. He has even been seen sharing a table with half-orcs on a regular basis. It is as if he is ashamed of his own heritage,” ramped up old Lysaer.
“He is a very private person I’ll give you that, but he is also very social, no one has spoke ill of the man. As far as his choice in companions, well I would assume that because he was an orphan he naturally attached himself to others that might be alienated. He has a kinship with those that have no family. I wouldn’t bother who he hangs out with you old bigot,” slapping Lysaer on the shoulder and laughing.
Frowning again at Serkinis, “Some of my undercover eyes and ears have even shared drink with him till the early morning hours and while they say they truly like the man, he drinks and sings with the best of them, they obtained very little information out of him. He doesn’t talk about himself and that tells me he is hiding something.”
Laughing even harder, Serkinis looks at his old friend through tear filled eyes, “You pride yourself so on your eyes and ears…call them what they are, Spies, you old scoundrel! You truly are paranoid!”
“Someone has to be,” growled Lysaer.
“Please my friend, he has filled out the proper documentation and petitioned to join the Knights of Furyondy branch of the Hart, I cannot see any reason to deny his application. We will still test him and send him out on a mission with a senior Knight and see how the chips fall, agreed? He is also very skilled at creating enchanted items, a disappearing art that we could most certainly use.” looking to Lysaer.
“I suppose,” was all the old Lysaer added.
--
“You did well back there Market,” Degan reaching out to clasp his hand in a congratulatory gesture.
Bowing and taking Degan’s hand, “Thank you, I only mean to serve. Do you wish me to continue the chase?” I asked in a stoic voice as I was still in the Void.
Smiling, Degan, in a gravely voice filled with dust from the resent battle said, “No they will not bother anyone after the routing we gave them for quite some time. Relax and enjoy the victory that was won here today.”
Thinking in the back of my head…why are we not in pursuit? Looking to Degan I ask agian, “May I loose the hounds then?”
With a questioning look from Degan he nods.
Twisting my heal into the ground to secure footing, I spin webs of arcane might, bending them to my will. Drawing Cuelendar from my waist I complete summoning after summoning, Calling forth hound after hound to harry our foes till they can no longer run. The hair on the back of my hand singes from the effort, the other hand has a white knuckle grip upon my bloody sword that is not a sword. In the Void I hardly notice. Whispering under my breath, between the summons, I hardly notice I speak, “To something greater than myself, Duty.” I watch the massive wolves charge into the forest after the scent of the orcs, only wishing not to hear the screams sure to follow.
With a surprising look from Degan, “I have heard about your relentless streak. When you get something in your jaw you don’t let go.” Slapping my shoulder Degan turns to mount his horse.
Not knowing if that was a compliment or not, I summon my mount and follow Degan the three day journey back to Chendl from the Vesve.
--
“And so gentlemen that is my report on young Market’s action during our routing of the orc war party,” Degan speaking before the Council of Petitioners of the Knights of Furyondy.
Dressed in my best clothes I stand tall and wait for the announcement.
Lysaer standing from his chair in the audience hall, looks down to all the petitioners, six in all, “You have proven yourselves loyal to the Knights, you have even still proven your selves honorable to the King and most importantly you have upheld the code of the Hart. Stand tall and be recognized for the Knights that you are!”
Walking to stand in front of me, Lysaer looks me over, top to bottom before gesturing me to kneel and be knighted. I brush some of my white hair aside that had fallen out of the simple silver clasp so as to not get in the way of venerated Lysaer laying the fabled sword Fragarach upon my shoulders.
“In the name of the King and wielding a symbol of his rulership, Fragarach, The Answerer, I anoint you Sir Market Fangorn. Stand and be recognized, Knight of Furyondy!” Boomed Lysaer.
At that moment, touched by the Kings own sword, Cuelendar hummed upon my waist. I now have purpose.
Making an early exit I stand at the gates to the audiance hall and gaze upon the merryment. Turning slightly and looking over my shoulder upon the Throne to the King, I made a vow that day to protect Furyondy and the King at the cost of my own life, Duty.
