SF's "Write Your Butt Off!" Writing Competition XIV

[AnonymousSpeed]

You know, I'd like to see someone try accomplishing that in a short-story.

Well, for a short story, I think it could be done by making it a series of one shots until you get familiar enough with the formula to make some sort of team up. An individual resolving their individual mission, someone doing that one last something they feel obligated to do. I don't know, it's a neat idea, I'll say that much.

[Knight]

Okay, finally got this done. My only regret is I didn't edit it enough, I'd try to make it shorter.

Title: I'm Not a Mercenary (Part of a series I might continue)

World: My own, takes place in the same universe as one of my WIP novels

Genre: Fantasy/Adventure

Words: 6750

Description: Unlucky knight gets caught in some shit

Episode 1: I’m Not a Mercenary

This adventure begins with a man on a horse. Not the kind of man who’d anyone would figure to be kind or noble, not by his appearance at least. He carried a longsword at his hips, a shield on his back, and a black cape around his neck. From his head hung a chin shaved much less often then he’d like, upon his brow some sweat he’d much rather not be there. Straight chestnut hair dangled from his head like bundles of straw. His face was one of a man approaching his thirties, too old to be called young, too young to be called old. An attractive face hid beneath layers of dirt, tired eyes and a few too many things stuck in his teeth. It would take a few good washes before it’s revealed again. His mop of hair bounced up and down as his dark horse trotted along the dirt path, pushing aside the beige dust on the ground. As shabby as this man may have looked, this man was a knight, or at least he considered himself one.

He rode slouched over upon his horse, a posture he would not usually consider presentable, but the weight of the journey and the heat of the sun had broken down both his shoulders and his desire to give a shit. He was only half a mile to town, he could see the black roofs of timber frame houses off in the distance, as well as the sole tower of a modestly sized castle off behind the trees, built of yellowish stone. A few more minutes traveling east, and he would arrive.

It was not a very busy town by any means, many people would come and go, but that’s all they did, come and go. If by chance they didn’t mean to come and go, then they only stayed at the inn before heading out the next day. Such is the fate of a small town near the border, with little importance but to serve as another passing sight for people of more importance

The knight trotted up into town, hot from the day’s travel. He pulled a flask from his belt and poured water down his throat, and then in his hair and eyes, letting the water lift the heat off his sweaty skin. Then he tied the flask back on to his belt beside a purse of sixteen gold pieces. He rectified his posture so that he could enter town with as little dignity as he could hold on to, but it was not very dignified glances that he received in return. He made his way to the gatehouse in front of the castle, not to meet the lord behind, but to meet an acquaintance in front.

“How’s it going Jack?” said a man in front, dressed in mail and a yellow surcoat. He had a black goatee, but the rest of his hair was under a hood of mail.

“It’s hot,” Jack said as he stopped his horse, “really hot.”

“It’s not too bad,” he replied, “at least it’s not wet. It’s been a long time hasn’t it?”

“A year at least.” he said as he lazily dismounted his horse.

“How’s mercenary work? Who’d you kill for this week’s pay?” He asked.

“I’m not a mercenary, and to answer your question it was the bandit Alder.”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that. You still competing at the tournament next spring?”

“The Queen would have my head if I wasn’t there. You could bet a gryphon’s egg that I’ll be there, Frank.”

“That’s good news,” Frank stretched his neck to the side to look around Jack. “Wow, that smoke looks like it’s coming from Fort Wood. Have the Frolish already pushed them back?”

“That’s not smoke, it’s just a raincloud. It’d require some more competence from the Frolish in order to push back the Worden.”

“Since when did you care about foreign wars?”

“I only care if they’re near my border.” Jack said.

“Well, we shouldn’t worry ‘bout that. Wordrau from the west, Froland to the south, neither kingdoms would have any business in a tiny nation like our own.”

“You never know.” Jack remarked.

“Well, it looks like the rain will head northwest like it always does.”

“No, I think it’ll be heading here. How long do you stand guard tonight.”

“About an hour aft sunset. Say, it must be tough being a knight without a lord to call master, or knights to call friends. How do you stay so positive?

“Well, I always think that no matter how bad I have it, someone else must have it worse. At least I won’t be standing post in the rain for instance.”

A few hours later and it did begin to rain, heavily. Water fell upon the roofs of the houses, wind pushed it off the slant and created cascades of downpour to fall on the path below. The sky had darkened to pitch black, but occasionally a flash of lightning illuminated the complex inner structure of the clouds above in magnificent light. Thunder rumbled and its roar tumbled to the ground below. A spectacle for anyone up in the heavens to see, but down below it was far from pleasant. Jack had to trudge through puddles and mud that had gathered on the bumpy path on his way to the nearest inn. He had spent the afternoon bartering with a stubborn stable master, trying to negotiate with him to hold his horse, Pete, for only three gold pieces. He was tired and hungry, he needed to get to the inn.

With each heavy step he made, he came closer to the big building in front of him, a busy establishment where plenty of noise could be heard, even through the constant pounding of rain, wind and thunder. The knight in black arrived at the door and pulled it open, then he entered inside. It was a busy place, people were drinking and talking, scrunched up together at tables, some of them had dice or cards. A man with a flute played off in the corner, but his music was drowned out by chatter, laughter, and the occasional shatter of a cup that fell to the floor. Jack made his way to the counter on one side of the building and took a seat on the stool in front.

“How much for a night?” He said to the bartender who was faced the other way, washing a cup.

“Four gold pieces,” he said, “and it ain’t up for dispute.”

“Fine.”Jack said as he dropped several coins on the counter.

“That’ll do.” The bartender said as he turned around and collected the change in his hands. “Hey, I know you. You’re that knight who came here years ago and slept with my daughter.”

“That wasn’t me,” said Jack, “that was Sir Albert. I just gave him some advice.” From the bartenders expression, he could tell that didn’t help his situation.

“Pixie jabber. Why should I let a scoundrel like you in my inn, eh?”

“Hey, if it helps, I’m not interested in your daughter.”

“Oh, so now she ain’t good enough for you, huh?”

“That’s not what I said.” At that moment he felt the gaze of several curious others meet together towards him.

“Why you come here and insult this poor old man?” said one of the patrons, as he stood from his seat.

“You ain’t a knight no more,” said another, “you’re a bloody cutthroat.”

“Mercenary!” Shouted a man from across the bar.

“Blackcaster!” Another voice screamed.

“Of all the members of your band,” said the bartender, “why’d a mutt like you have to survive.” All of the words did nothing to phase the knight, but then the bartender continued. “You know, it’s probably your fault they all died, along with all those innocent people.”

A silent rage rose swiftly inside Jack, and just as it hit its peak, he lifted his fist and punched the bartender across the jaw with lightning speed. The crowd around him reacted just as fast, fists flew through the air, landing on Jack’s face, but he took it much better than the unconscious bartender. He chose not to fight back, he had already let go of his anger and he did not wish to hurt anyone else, instead he reluctantly let himself get grabbed and tossed around the room. His plate armour protected him from any serious injuries below the neck, but before long the men grabbed him by the arms and legs and through him out the side door of the inn. He landed straight into a muddy puddle, now wetter than before.

“Don’t show up here again!” Shouted one of the more muscular men that helped throw him out as he slammed the door.

Jack slowly brought himself upright, feeling heavy under the weight of his drenched clothes and the thousands of rain drops rapidly falling on him. He looked down at the ground, at the gravel and mud. Large drops fell from his hair and the occasional red drop fell as well, probably from his lip. He made his way over to the stable, snuck his horse out, and headed away from town.

He knew of a place he could spend the night, not a place he’d prefer to go, especially in the weather, but he had no choice. He led his horse to the tree-covered hills just a mile east of town. The forest was tall and thick, but it didn’t stop the relentless rain from piercing through the canopy like fast arrows through armour. The thunder rumbled and bursted like cannon fire, the lighting flashed every few seconds. Water dripped from the leaves like the pouring of a vase, unfortunately falling on Jack’s head.

As he rode through the woods he let his nose take in the earthy scents that the rain brought up from the ground. The smell of rain, one of only two things he enjoyed about a storm, it was all that comforted him on his trek up the incline.

His horse trotted under the treetops until he came to the crest of a hill. Hidden behind the trees were the ruins of a fort that had long outlive its usefulness. What remained of the structure was only a crumbling curtain wall and tower, with a few fragments of what may have been barracks and more ramparts. He went behind the wall and over to the base of the tower. He dismounted and let his horse under the archway into the base floor, then he followed. He climbed a spiral staircase at the corner of the room and came to the top floor of the tower.

The roof was leaky, droplets fell down from above and formed puddles on the muddy brickwork. Jack found a niche at one end of the room that was raised a step off the floor and scrunched himself inside. There was a tall, narrow window in the niche, ideal for shooting a bow and arrow while remaining safe inside, though the window offered little vision through the rain and darkness.

Jack wasn’t very pleased, he had been saving his money for a new sword, but if he kept losing his coin he wouldn’t have enough to even eat. He closed his eyes, letting the downpour drown out all his senses, and welcomed the thunder, his second favourite thing, as it lulled him to sleep.

———

He awoke from his sleep, disturbed by a noise. Men were chatting, and moving. Even through the rain, he could hear the shaking of mail and the stomps of boots. He looked out the window to see several figures moving through the darkness, by the looks of them he could tell they were Worden soldiers, and a woman as well. He got on to his feet and walked silently towards an opening that led to the upper wall. Hiding behind the merlons, he matched their pace. He came to a drop where the wall had crumbled to a pile of stones and leapt down. The Wordens still didn’t notice him. He walked around a bush and a tree and approached their ranks from the front.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jack said to the men as he counted six of them, most armed with swords, one armed with a crossbow.

“What’s it to you?” Said the man at the helm, startled but not frightened.

“You don’t belong in this land.” Jack said. He noticed that the woman was blindfolded and gagged. She was thin and had long red hair.

“We were on a raid in Froland and we got lost in the forest, nothing else.”

“You have a woman with you?”

“Spoils of war,” said the soldier, “we can take whatever we want.”

“Her dress doesn’t look Frolish, it looks like it comes from here. I don’t believe you could have restrained a woman with only a rope at her wrists all the way from Froland back to Wordrau.”

“What are you gonna do about it?” The man said as all the soldiers raised their weapons.

“Is that a crossbow back there?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” answered the bowman at the back, next to the woman, “and I got my eyes on you.”

“Shame, if only that crossbow was gone, then I could do something.” The woman lifted her head as if to hear more. “Listen, I’m impatient, so I’ll give you three seconds to drop the girl and leave right now.”

“Are you serious?” Said one of the soldiers.

“Three.”

“He’s a nut.”

“Two.”

Just before he said one, the girl let fly a kick into the gut of the crossbow-wielding soldier, forcing him to pull the trigger out of reflex and missing his shot. In an instant, Jack struck the foe in front of him with his sword, but there was no blood.

“A blunt...blade...” the soldier said, winded, as he collapsed to his knees.

All the men reacted at once, each of them drawing their own blades. The crossbowman dropped his weapon and restrained the girl. Two of the men circled around Jack, approaching from his side with swords pointed at him. Jack backed up, keeping his distance, until he felt his back touch stone, they had cornered him against a wall. The soldier to his right swung his sword, but Jack rolled across the wall to his left. The other man stabbed, but Jack ducked and the man got his sword stuck in the brickwork. Jack quickly got to his feet and punched the man in the face with his gauntlet, then he made a quick swipe at the other man’s helmet, knocking him senseless.

Suddenly, Jack felt a hard impact on his side, and despite his armour, he was almost taken off balance. He turned to see a man swinging a flail above his head, approaching. At his front approached another man with a sword, preparing to slash. The sword swung, but Jack narrowly escaped, the blade brushed against his should plate, sending sparks flying. Then Jack was struck again by the flail, this time on his stomach, but he endured the pain and retaliated with a mighty kick sent straight into his chest. He parried the swordsman as he kicked, and after his other foe was sent to the ground, he attacked with a flurry of sword swings onto the other swordsman. The less-experienced one couldn’t keep up, slashes came from all directions and the enemy ended up being hit by the blunt steel blade three times before losing his balance and tripping under pressure.

The first man had gotten up off the ground and charged back in to do battle. He swung his blade hard and fast while keeping his distance. Jack tried to parry his strikes and counterattack, but to no avail, his ferocity left no openings. His foe was strong, but Jack knew that brute strength was not all there was to a battle. The two blades became locked against each other in a test of strength. Both swordsman held their blades in both hands as the swords slowly turned, pushing Jack’s blade in his opponents favour. The enemy soldier smiled as he had appeared to have overpowered Jack, but Jack let his right hand free from his sword and grabbed the man’s helm. With the helm in hand, Jack swung his arm to the right, dragging his opponent along with his hand, and planting the man’s head into the stone wall. Then Jack pulled the headgear off of his foe and tossed it at another grounded opponent who had the misguided idea of trying to get back on his feet.

“Don’t think about taking another step,” said the last man standing, holding the redheaded girl with a knife to her neck, “I’ll cut her throat.”

Jack stopped still and lowered his sword.

“Good, now stay there.”

Jack couldn’t think of a way to respond, he simply complied to his demands. Suddenly, from nowhere, flames started to grow on the bottom of the man’s surcoat, and the bright red blaze began to climb higher up his body. The man screamed and let go of the girl, but just as he turned around, there was Jack’s black steed, rearing up on his hind legs and kicking the man in the face with his front. The man collapsed and the flames died out in the moist dirt and falling rain.

“Thanks Pete.” With all his opponents defeated, he approached the red-haired woman, who was picking herself off the ground. “Are you all right?” He asked, but as soon as he finished, the girl got up and ran away into the darkness. Jack was surprised, but didn’t pursue her.

The Worden soldiers groaned in pain as they stood up, a couple of them were unconscious from the battle. Those who could stand looked towards Jack.

“I could go another round if you guys want,” Jack said, “but I’ll give you the chance to pick up your fellow men and leave.” They stood silently for a second. “Now.” Jack said in an angrier tone, the soldiers reacted instantly and started picking up the unconscious men, one of them just made a run for it. Jack picked up one of the swords on the ground, left by the Wordens.

“Ech, these things are useless.” He dropped it.

Jack and his horse returned to the tower when all the soldiers finally left. Jack went back to his little niche and tried to get some more sleep before morning.

———

Jack awoke to bright morning light hitting his eyelids. Through his ears he could hear the sounds the drops bouncing into puddles left by yesterday’s showers, and the songs of birds giving off their early cries. Lazily, Jack tries to rise. He rolls over onto the floor, clanging his metal plate on the stone. Face down on the cold, brick surface, he lets out a yawn, then stretches his arms, and then tries to push himself up. He does not succeed. A few minutes later he tries again, and this time he is successful. He lets out another yawn, grabs his sword and shield, and goes to his horse.

The forest floor was littered with puddles, the leaves let loose droplets of water as they are pushed by the gentle breeze. Light broke through the canopy in numerous beams of light, and apart from a few puffy clouds, the light remained unchallenged. A beautiful day by all accounts, a little hot for Jack’s liking, but he decided to shed his cape to help solve that problem. He was hungry, desperately so, he hoped to find something to eat soon, even if it had to be a small, woodland creature.

He rode through the forest for half-an-hour before finding a cobble trail to follow East. A few minutes later, the path led him to a valley, and a few minutes after that, it led him to a village.

It was a quiet village, the kind of village where the local blacksmith probably didn’t know the first thing about making swords, and they probably had not a care for the war that went on across the border. Hidden in the trees, it stood isolated from the rest of the world. As he rode into town, people gave him strange looks, they were not used to the sight of a rider with a tattered cloak and scratches on his armour. None of them objected to his appearance, Jack couldn’t really make of what the town thought of him.

He approached the largest house in the village, where an old woman was standing, looking at him. She had gray hair tied behind her head and stood in a slouch with anticipation to the arrival of the town’s visitor.

“Hello ma’am,” he said to her, “I am Sir Jack of Castle Millden, Knight of the Order of Wolfpack, are you the master of this village?”

“I am while my husband’s asleep.” She said in a not very welcoming tone. “I thought the Order of Wolfpack was dead.”

“I can assure you it’s alive and well, if a little hungry.”

“Well, goes to show how much I know about current events. The last group of men to come through this town with swords came and raided this village, how do I know you’re

not just here to clean up?”

“You have my word, I am not here to cause harm.”

“You a sellsword?” She asked.

“No, I, uh—”

“Shame, we could use one.”

Just then, an old man emerged from the house.

“Who’s that guy?” The old man said. “He looks like a mercenary.”

“I’m not a mercenary.” Jack responded.

“What are you then?” He said.

“If you’d actually get out of bed in the morning, maybe you’d know.” His wife scolded him. “He says he’s a knight.”

“What?” said the old man.

“Ahem,” Jack interrupted, “I should inform you, if you’re having any trouble, I’d be willing to help, for a small fee.”

“Isn’t that what a mercenary does?” asked the elder.

“Well yes, but, oh never mind.” Jack said. “I’d like to know if there’s anywhere I could get some food here, because I’m starving.”

“We probably don’t have much left,” said the old woman, “but you can check the baker’s house by the pond, he might have a new batch of bread prepared.”

“Thank you very much.” Jack said as he turned his horse around and left. When he turned, he noticed that all the townsfolk had come to witness the discussion. Jack simply rode down the street and ignored them. He started mumbling to himself.

“You’re stupid Jack, there was probably some money in it for you. Now you’ll never afford a new sword.”

He came to a building at the edge of the village, right by a large pond. He dismounted from his horse and knocked on the door. The door opened and a young woman

appeared, the same young woman from yesterday with the crimson hair.

“You.” She gasped.

“Me.” Jack replied.

“Tullia, don’t be rude,” said a man’s voice from inside, “let the customer in.”

She moved out of the way and allowed Jack entry. Inside was a humble little bakery with a large oven at the back of the room. A large man sat over yonder, facing the oven.

“Welcome to the Holt bakery. Name’s Kendrick Holt, this is my daughter Tullia.” The man said as he stood up and turned around, he was tall, balding, a little pudgy but had

plenty of muscle to back it up. He wore a long-sleeved coat and a black beard on his chin.

“Pleasure to be here,” Jack said, “I was hoping to purchase some bread and—” it was then that Jack noticed the man was missing an arm in his other sleeve.

“And what?” The man was polite, he held a smile despite Jack’s pause.

“I was wondering how much it would cost?”

“One piece a loaf,” he said.

“Okay,” and Jack pulled a coin from his purse and dropped it on the table. Kendrick went and grabbed him a piece of bread as Tullia walked out the door, much to the confusion of the baker.

“Thanks.” Jack said, and then he left out the same door. He heard Tullia go around the bakery, so he followed her. She was sitting out back on a wooden stool.

“We didn’t get to be acquainted yesterday,” Jack said, “I don’t need a thank you, but I’d at least have liked an introduction.”

“You don’t need an introduction,” she said, “you carry a sword, I already know enough.”

“There’s a lot more to me than my sword you know.”

“I’m not interested in being courted sir.”

“I’m not trying to court you, I just want to know why you’re being so cold. I don’t think I have done you any wrong, unless you wanted to be taken by those soldiers. I wasn’t going to hurt you”

“Doesn’t matter, you’re a warrior. It’s all the same to you warriors, one day you’ll try to steal hearts, the next day you’ll steal lives, doesn’t matter how you go about doing it. You don’t care about what you have to sacrifice, you just go out and fight. It was the same as my father, and it’s the same with you.” Jack paused for a minute, then took a bite from his bread while gathering his thoughts.

“You know,” he said, “I have to agree with you. That is what a warrior does, but I am no warrior, at least not anymore. I prefer the title ‘protector.’ What you see as a sword is my second shield, and I use it to defend those who are weaker than me. I have little interest in killing or courting, I only want to do good. Call it a quest of conscience.”

“Doesn’t matter how you dress it up, you use a sword to kill people.”

“Well, yeah, sometimes. At least give me a chance to talk to you though, since you know I mean you no harm.”

“Fine, what do you want to talk about?”

“For starters, that flame that appeared yesterday, was that you?”

“It was just some magic, surely you’ve seen magic before.”

“Yes, but I wouldn’t expect some random village girl to be able to use it. I’ve met magicians who have trained for years and still couldn’t produce a flame like that.”

“She’s a gifted one.” Kendrick interrupted as he approached. “A lot like her mother. I always tell her that she’s got a gift, and if she wanted she could probably make a lot of coin off of it, she might even be able to get a master.”

“I’ve told you I’m not interested. The world isn’t going to be any better a place with another magician throwing flames around.”

“Maybe it’d be better if you were the one taking action.” Kendrick said. “If you went outside the village for once, you might be able to accomplish something.”

“Maybe it’d be better if you raised me right,” she shouted, “instead of going out and getting your arm chopped off.”

She stormed back inside the bakery after that, leaving her father and Jack at the back. Kendrick let out a sigh.

“Sorry about that.” Jack said. “I got the feeling I shouldn’t have been in that conversation.”

“No, I’m sorry. I brought it on myself, you were just in the middle.” He sat down on a bench. “You saved her last night, didn’t you?”

“Well—”

“I figured so. Thank you so much for that. I would’ve protected her myself, but I threw out my sword a long time ago, as she asked me too. She was much younger then, it was years after I lost my arm though. She found out I was still taking mercenary work, even with only one arm, and she was furious, she told me to never risk my life again.

I was very reckless back then, and I guess I realized the truth in her words. I didn’t want to not be there for her, and knowing the way I fought, I probably would have. I still wished I could’ve drew my sword one more time, and cut up those bastards who tried to take my daughter from me. You understand don’t you, what it’s like to have someone so precious, you want to be there for them?”

“I do, but I'd prefer not to talk about it.” There was an awkward silence.

“I’m sorry if I’m bringing up bad memories, I just don’t usually have anyone to talk to. As one swordsman to another, you have my gratitude, and I will repay my debt in any way I can.”

“Thank you, but I best be on my way soon, I hope you can make amends.” With that, Jack went back to his horse and rode back into town.

Jack was just silently trotting down the village when he heard a few crashes and shouts nearby. It caught his attention, but he kept his pace. Just as he turned a corner, he heard a shout.

“Hey, that’s him.” Shouted a Worden soldier. “That’s the man who fought us yesterday.”

“Uh, no I’m not.” Jack said.

“Yeah you did,” he said as a couple more soldiers joined him. “you slammed my head against a wall.”

“You’ll have to be more specific.”

“Stop trying to deny it, you fought us yesterday.”

“Well, I guess I wasn’t getting out of this anyway.” Jack grabbed his sword, still in its sheath. “Hold this for me.” He said as he placed the sheath in the man’s palm.

“Huh, why?” The man said, but as soon as he finished, Jack threw a punch at his jaw, then immediately grabbed the handle of his blade as the man fell, unconscious, and his grip unsheathed the blade for Jack. More men gathered around him, most of the faces from last night, and a couple new, but the results were still the same. A few cuts and bruises on both sides, a smashed fence and some faces planted into the mud, and Jack defeated all his enemies. The Worden were subdued. Tullia arrived on the scene a moment later to see all the bodies on the ground.

“Did you kill these men?” She asked Jack.

“I don’t think I did.” He said as he looked at all of them, still breathing. “Not sure about that guy over there.” He said as he pointed to a man under a pile of busted wood. “You over there, can you check if that guy’s still breathing?”

“Y-yes.” Said one of the beat-up Worden soldiers in an afraid tone as he lifted the wood off his comrade.

“Yep,” said Jack to Tullia, “no kills.” She looked quite astonished.

“How do you do that?”

“Worden scouting troops are often inexperienced, the good ones are always kept in the main armies. A fledgling bandit would be a better fight.”

“It didn’t look like you fought very honourably.” She remarked.

“Hey, these guys are doing a dishonour to swordsmanship. Anyway, we should probably go find the village leader. Her house is this way right?”

“Yes,” said Tullia, “let’s go.” The duo walked down the street.

“We’re lucky,” said Jack as he turned the corner, “at least this time there were no cross—” He stopped in his tracks. An arrangement of archers stood staring at him, bowguns

drawn and aimed on target. They were guarding the entrance to the big house, one shot would pierce through Jack’s armour and split it like lightning through wood.

“Shit.” Jack cursed.

“Now what?” Tullia asked.

“I dunno, got any ideas?”

“You’re the knight.”

“Wait, shush!”

A man, clad in shining plate armour, walked behind the troop of archers. He budged through them in the middle and stared at Jack through his great helm. Then he lifted the helmet from his head, revealing a bearded face inside. He smirked a smug smirk as he looked at Jack.

“Black cape, dark clothes, and impressive fencing, you must be the famous, or perhaps infamous, last knight of Wolfpack. This is a rare day, just the possibility of going home with your defeat under my name makes me hungry. Oh, but I have been to rude to not have introduced myself, I am Sir Wig of Worden, apprentice of General Lorcan, and I am here to reclaim what I want,” he looked deeply at Tullia, “the beautiful maiden with the red hair. Come to me now, or be shot.”

“You would kill us both without even a fair fight?” Asked Jack.

“On another day, perhaps, but not the day after you humiliated my men. Get ready to shoot if they dare move before complying.” The archers’ aim remained steady.

“Would you risk going to war just to threaten us?” Jack asked again.

“I don’t think anybody’s going to care for one peasant girl and a disgraced knight. Don’t move or be shot.”

“On my call,” Jack began to whisper to Tullia, “dash towards that open shed.” A moment passed. “Go!”

The two of them sprinted towards an open door at the right side of the street and reached it just in time to slam the door before being shot. Three arrows pierced through the door, but slowed down just in time to not reach Tullia’s back. The two of them were cramped inside the shed, pressed against each other.

“Well, it looks like we ended up becoming closer than either of us intended.”

“Ugh.” Tullia said.

“What, it was just a joke?”

“Shouldn’t we go out while they reload?”

“Three shots, four bows, the other one is just waiting for us to peak our heads out of here.”

“So what do we do?”

“I have to think of something.”

He didn’t have to, outside the shed came the noises of a fight. Punches, kicks, then a few more punches and kicks, then it stopped.

“It’s all right,” said a voice, “you can come out now.”

Tullia opened the door and there was Kendrick with a long stick in hand, standing over the four soldiers that were disarmed and defeated.

“Father!” Tullia said as she ran out of the shed and towards her dad.

“Not letting you go this time.” He said. “The knight got away, I couldn’t catch him.”

“Well,” said Jack, still standing in the shed, “at least everyth—” Suddenly, a gauntlet burst through the wood behind him and grabbed his shoulder. “—Oh come on.” The hand pulled him through the wall of the shed with enourmous strength, and pulled Jack to the ground. Jack got up and saw Sir Wig facing him with his helmet on.

“Looks like you’ll be getting that fair fight after all.” Said the knight.

“Yeah,” said Jack, in pain, “except I’ve no armour, and you just pulled me through a wall.”

“I’ve grown impatient with you, let’s fight.”

“Well, I’ll try to make this quick.”

Kendrick was about to approach as well, but Jack signaled him to stop. Jack grabbed the shield at his back with his left hand to join the sword in his right. His opponent raised his blade, a shining arming sword, shorter than Jack’s, but much sharper. With no armour to protect him, Jack knew that one slash would be all his opponent needed to end the fight.

Wig made the first move, he tried to stab, but he jumped back out of range. Jack approached quick, his enemy tried to stop his advance, but Jack’s speed allowed him to evade and counterattack with a swing at the gut. This attack didn’t do much of anything on his foe’s steel plate, and Jack had to evade another swing. Wig tried to attack again, Jack dodged and attacked at his opening again, and again his attack did nothing. The battle continued like this, but it couldn’t for much longer, Jack was beginning to lose his energy, he was still running on an empty stomach.

“You can’t do anything to me, not with a blunt sword like that. You have no chance of beating a knight like me.”

“Oh yeah,” Jack said, panting, “I’m a knight too.”

“Ha, you. You aren’t a knight anymore, you’ve lost all your honour, your class, you’re nothing more than a mercenary now.”

“How many times do I have to say to people, don’t call me a mercenary.”

Jack tossed his shield at his opponent like a disk, startling Wig. Then he ran beside his opponent and kicked him behind the knee, causing him to kneel over. Then he swung his sword at the man’s back with both hands, forcing the wind out of Sir Wig.

“Did you feel that?” Jack said.

Wig got back up and tried to protect himself, but Jack was too fast in his strikes, he had could not guard any of the attacks. Then Jack took a strong, two-handed swing at his helmet, and he was knocked back on his bottom and his blade fell out of his hands. Poor Sir Wig was at a loss, he knew his opponent had won, however, he did fall luckily right by a crossbow.

“Had enough?” Jack asked.

“I admit, you are better than I.” Wig removed his helmet with his right hand, while stretching his left behind him. “I’ll just have to make a bolt for it.”

Swiftly, Wig grabbed the crossbow from behind, swung it around and aimed it at Jack, but just before he could fire, the stock burst into flames and rendered unusable.

“Thought you agreed to a fair fight sir knight.” Tullia said.

“Damn witch,” said Wig, “you will regret this too mutt.”

The other Worden soldiers joined the knight, they were all disarmed, there weapons now in the hands of the townsfolk who also arrived on the scene. They all headed towards the western edge of town, in the direction of Wordrau. Jack sighed, then he called his horse to him. He grabbed the piece of bread from his satchel and began to chow down. As he chewed, he looked at the sword that the knight had left behind, it looked sharp and sturdy.

“I don’t think he’ll be coming back for this.” Jack said as he picked it up. He wrapped the new sword in cloth and tied it to Pete, then he put the old sword back in its sheath and tied it to the horse as well. With everything packed, he mounted his horse and began to trot about. The village elders came out of their house to speak to him.

“How much would you like?” The old woman asked.

“I am a knight,” said Jack, “I don’t need to be paid for my services. Though I do accept donations.” The woman put a small bag of gold in his hands. “Thank you much.”

“You’re gonna be on your way?” Kendrick asked.

“Yeah,” Jack returned, “you’ll be okay here?”

“I probably could’ve handled that knight myself, I think we’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be leaving then.” So Jack began towards the edge of town.

“Wait,” Tullia called, “you’re leaving so soon?”

“Yep, there’s a bunch more people needing protecting, I just don’t have the time to stay here. Maybe we’ll meet again.”

Jack left the town, into the trees. Tullia watched as he left, then she looked down on the ground. One of the swords the soldiers’ dropped was lying on the ground, Tullia stared at it for a long while.

“Maybe we will.” She muttered.

———

Underneath a canopy of branches, Jack continued his journey through the woods. His horse walked along gently, occasionally speeding up to a canter upon his master’s command, but never really fast. Then the horse slowed again, and turned his head to look at Jack.

“What is it Pete?” Jack said, but the horse just turned his head back. “I know you liked the girl, I liked her too, but we have to keep going. There’s more people to save, towns in peril, knights of evil, damsels in distress.” His horse snorted. “You’re right, I’m off spouting nonsense again, but you know we have to keep going.”

The knight and his horse travelled deeper into the thicker parts of the woods, into where light finds difficulty reaching. Jack pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and opened it up, revealing a map.

“Now,” he said, “where are we going next?”

Edited September 28, 2015 by Knight

[jankmaster98]

Okay, I have a little something that's just what I whipped up in like an hour or two.

Title: Yo JimBo!

World: The American West Circa 1866

Genre: Western

Words: about 2452

Rating PG 13 (has swearing, a little violence, and consumption of alcohol.)

Description: After the War Between the States a Soldier goes west only to find trouble isn't just on the battlefield. (Note, many plot elements taken from a game I won't say which, but if you know it don't spoil it!)

A bay horse trotted through the harsh expanse of the dry Colorado plains and its ridder slumped in the saddle. Many miles over rough terrain had this man and his horse traveled, and there would be a few more miles to go before they would see the end of their journey. If anyone got a closer look at the man they would see he was in his late 20s hereabouts with a ruddy complexion, dark hair, and brown eyes that were sunken solemn things. Despite the war being long over it seemed that this man still chose to wear his blue cavalry jacket with the insignias labeling him as a corporal of the 47th cavalry division of the United States Army. This was James Bosun, and this was a young man who came back home from the war to a life he no longer understood, so like so many young men changed by the war between the states he decided there might be a future for him out west. Out away from the cities filled with people pittering around in endless back and forth struggle, and away from the farms that reminded him too much of the fields where he and others died like dogs for a country they had barely seen. So like some man once aid, “Go west young man,” and so he did. The Plains seemed to stretch out for miles as he continued on towards his destination, Baxter City, a booming town that some of the ranchers he’d met out earlier said there would be work for a man who knew how to shoot fast and handle himself in a fight.

So onward James urged his horse, the two slowly trotting towards their destination with only a vague idea of which way there were going. If the stars he’d seen last night were any indication he was heading in generally the right direction, but he couldn’t be too sure what with the total lack of any distinguishing landmarks. Not even any Indians about this area, though perhaps that wasn’t surprising with the lack of buffalo herds. The great herds of the ranch barons and been coming through this area too often for the large migrating beast to have a meal worth hiking for. This land was wild yes, but perhaps soon it too would be tamed in time, in St. Louis he saw men laying down railroad tracks for eventual service across the country. Though it was likely that wouldn’t happen for another good long while. This land still had dangers aplenty, and that was the whole reason he was coming out here. As James and his horse moved ever closer to their destination, he stopped for a moment to get a bearing on his surroundings.

Dismounting with the ease of an experience rider James tied his horse to a nearby tree that also gave him a small about of refuge from the sweltering heat of the sun bearing down upon him. Though his mother disapproved of this habit James unclasped his hip flask from his side and took a swig of the strong brandy stored within. The powerful alcohol burned through his throat, but the liquid he’d gained a taste for in the war seemed to restore some strength (if not focus) to the young man. For a moment James’ mind was taken back to his mother and his six older brothers and sisters probably still working their family farm in Pennsylvania. When he’d told them he was leaving home again at the dinner table his mother nearly broken down in tears and Thomas, Theodore, Emily, and Dorothy all started yelling at him all at once. Not Jessie and Rachel though, his two sisters who’d been nurses in the army under General Sherman. They knew better than the rest of them what a man would see fighting those bloody battles against cold steel and warm lead. Oh the rest of them had gotten his letters, and read the papers sure, but there was no way to put to words what a man saw in carnage of battle; nor the struggle of those who would have to care for the wounded, dead, and dying after the battle. In the end though it was his father who said;

“Jimbo you’re not a boy any longer, you’re certainly a different fella than the one who left the home four years ago. And if you think your heart’s calling you away then there ain’t nothin nobody can do ta stop you.”

That was that and thus on March 17th 1866 James Bosun left Natesville Pennsylvania for wherever his horse would carry him. Right now that horse and him were trying to figure if Baxter City was on the side of the Rockies he was currently on. With slightly groggy hands James reached into his pack and pulled out the nickle map he’d bought from the general store. It was cheap thing with smeared ink in several places and in other places it looked like the cartographer had spit the locations of the towns on the map. Also he’d forgotten to really give an accurate reading on where geographical things like the goddamn Rockies were! However, it was either buy this cheap as hell map or slink on maintence for his revolver, and that would never do. The Colt Navy 1851 gun was something he’d earned at Gettysburg and he’d be damned if he ever let it fall into disrepair. He got that weapon fighting and killing a rebel officer at Spotsylvania and that thing had saved his life more times that he could count. So that meant James was stuck with a map not quite detailing where exactly the place he was looking for was. Scanning the area around him seemed to do him no good, as the only thing prevalent on the horizon was the Rockies to the west and endless grass plains. It was foolish of him to try and cut time by going off the main trails, but fall in its middling season and if he had to get over the Rockies going in winter wasn’t an option. Perhaps a nap would clear his mind, yeah just a small little siest to clear his head and prepare him for the journey ahead. James drifted off with thoughts of a new beginning in his mind and the home he’d left behind, but most of all wondering when he’d find something other than hardtack to eat.




When he woke he found several strange things, one it was nighttime, two he didn’t hear his horse, and three his hands were bound and he in front of a campfire surrounded by rather nasty looking individuals who looked none too welcoming to any law abiding members of society. There were seven of them in total, but under the light of the moon and stars their faces weren’t easily defined though they all wore grey coats and misshapen gray caps. Though one of them wears a bright burgundy rancher’s hat, and James assumes he’s the leader. They were deserters from the Rebs most likely, lots of them had come west to, many of them becoming outlaws and bandits that plagued the honest folk in these parts.

“You must be the most unlucky sonofabitch on the plains right now.” The man James presumed to be the leader of the bunch spoke, he had a heavy drawl James thought he recognized from those POWs from Mississippi or one of the Carolinas.

“To think me and my boys are just passin through and we find a lone rider out like light, and a Yankee boy with a fancy gun to boot.”

The unknown bandit waved the Colt Navy in front of James’ face, and the former soldier burned with fury as this man dared to play around with the gun he’d fought through hell and back with.

“Forgive me for being a little theatrical but it’s not often I get to do this sort of thing, normally it’s too much trouble and risk to put on a show for myself and the boys, but you just happened to be along.”

“You won’t be alive much longer but I think that it’s such a waste to have a Yankee all tied up and ready for a good execution.” Another one gaffed out, his voice reminding Jame

“Why don’t you give me and let me have a fair fight?” James tried ask as he struggled with his bonds, but found them locked up tight.

“Did your boys give my brother a gun when your General Sherman marched his armies and burned through my family’s home?” The leader asked with venom in his voice and fire in his eyes as he stuck the barrel of James’ gun underneath its owner’s chin. “No they didn’t, your army ruined my family and I’d think it’s only the Lord’s justice that I deliver the same chance to every Yankee I find.”

“How the hell do you figure that?” James asked in disbelief, “I wasn’t anywhere near the Carolinas, I didn’t do nothing to you and yours.”

“Don’t matter to me if you weres on the high seas or in California, you’re jacket marks you a Yankee and that’s all the case I need.”

A shot is all he hears, his gun to the face is all he sees, and all he thinks is how the hell could it end like this?


“James? James? Corporal Bosun? Are you awake? Yo Jim Bo? You awake?”

His eyes burst open only for his mind to fill with pain at being assaulted by a rush of light. The world seemed wobbly as he had difficulty keeping his head still or really doing anything. As his head stills and his mind gets on straight he sees a kindly looking man with a neatly trimmed beard sitting in a chair in front of him. He had a simple brown coat on that made him look completely indistinct, but something told James that this man was probably something special considering he most likely saved his life.

“Well, welcome back to the land of the living Corporal Bosun, you seem to be looking alright.”

“Argh, by Jesus and all the disciples, what the hell-”

James tried to stand but found his balance atrocious and he fell back into the bed he was laying on, but at least he did manage to sit up on the bed he was laying on earlier.

“Whoa now take it easy. You’ve been out for three days and were running a fever for two of them.”

“Who- wha- Out three days... What in the- the last thing I remember-”

“Getting shot in the head? Yeah well you’ve got the devil’s own luck because well i went poking around in your head it looks like the bullet missed most of the important stuff.”

“You some sorta doc? Doubt anyone could go into somebody’s head and fix them up..”

“Yeah, I’m a doctor the only one for a long while I’d think. The name’s Carson, Ben Carson, and I know your name from the stitching on your jacket.

“Thanks I suppose, hmph, did a decent job you did, head only hurts like a locomotive smashed it and not an ironclad.”

“You’re awfully nonchalant about surviving something like a shot to the head.” Carson noted.

James only offer a grim and joyless smile.

“Back east I saw lots of men survive things that ought killed them, guess it just wasn’t their time, just like it wasn’t mine. Also I think more than knowing just your name I’d like story where I am and how you found me.”

“Well, as to the first question, one them surveyor folks for the railroad just happened upon you lying about. He brought you here and then left to go back to mapping the land for the Pacific Railroad, and as to where here is - this the little town of Red Haven a little slice of heaven out here before the Rockies.”

Well at least he wasn’t in the middle of nowhere, relatively speaking of course.

“I didn’t see no Red Haven on my map, but then again it wasn’t worth the nickel I paid for it, I was on my way to Baxter City for work. Then I got jumped by some bandits with a grudge against anybody wearin an army jacket discharged or otherwise.”

“Huh, well I can’t speak for who your attackers might’ve been but I sure can say you’ve got some sorta guardian angel sitting on your shoulder. Not just anybody survives a bullet to the brain.”

“Well I don’t think I’d be alive either way if someone hadn’t had a look at me.”

The Carson looked thoughtful for a moment, as if those words had given him an idea. James wasn’t sure if he was gonna like it but he owed this man and whoever was the surveyor that found him a debt for saving his life.

“If you’re so indebted, this town’s got a small problem with a few ruffians and the local sheriff is a bum, if you wouldn’t mind heading over to the local saloon..”

“Yeah I got it, My only question is how rough are we talking with this guys?”

“Let’s just say you may be needing this.”

Out from his belt Carson took out six shooter and handed it to James, which he determined to be a Remington 1858, there were six bullets in the chamber and when James spun the barrel the oh so satisfying sound of rotating steel filled the cavalryman’s ears. Looks like there was a task in front of him at least, god only knew where it would go from there or even how it would go once he stepped outside of his house. But either way he was alive, and if he was alive there was still possibility for doing something with his years, and first he’d start with doing a little favor for the good doctor Carson. And somewhere along the line he’d find those Reb bandits, and get back his prized gun; maybe James didn’t get to Baxter City, but it seems there would be a little bit of adventure to be found here. Well, that couldn’t be helped James supposed, this was the Wild West after all, and the frontier had a way of knocking you on your ass and pulling you on a path you don’t know where the hell you’re going. So up from the bed James stood, with the light of new dawn peering through the windows, James Stanley Bosun prepared to face a new day, a new place, and whole new set of priorities. Just another day in the Wild Wild West....

Not too proud of this, but hey at least it's something!

[eclipse]

EEEP!

Sorry, running late~! Gotta get everything up, first!

[Knight]

Got an idea.

Prompt:

In honour of Halloween, my prompt is things that lurk in the darkness. Whether it be the monsters that live in the woods, the ghosts in the graveyard, just the old man who never comes out of his house, or any spooky thing you can imagine, many mysteries and tales surround them. Write a story about the things scarcely seen, it doesn't need to be a horror story, it doesn't need to be paranormal either, and the mysterious thing(s) can be either benevolent or malevolent. Use whatever kind of plot, characters or setting you want, as long as it can, at least loosely, fit with the theme.

Constraint:

The main character cannot be the thing that lurks in the darkness.

Edited October 4, 2015 by Knight

[jankmaster98]

Can it be film noir style? I kinda want to try that for some reason.

[AnonymousSpeed]

Hm...I wonder how an assassin would do for this...

[eclipse]

Sweet~!

Two weeks from now is October 18. Will that be enough time?

[Knight]

Can it be film noir style? I kinda want to try that for some reason.

Yeah sure, that sounds interesting.

[jankmaster98]

Would it be possible to get a small extension? Maybe two or three days. I have something prepared but it's taking a bit longer to flesh out than I thought it would. I'll do my best if the deadline is still today at midnight but I'm just Saiyan..... (And no my story isn't a dbz one...)

[Rapier]

A bigger extension is preferable, if others are in favor of it, since no one has posted anything so far and I will be taking an exam this week.

[Knight]

I would say this time wouldn't be bad for an extension, it is mid-term season after all.

[eclipse]

. . .and guess who was busy with both laundry and a draft tournament?

Since this is Halloween-themed prompt, I'll extend this to November 1, 9 PM HST.

[Jotari]

Really grateful for that extension. I was on a four hour sleeping schedule and a seventeen hour working day at the start of the month which took some recovering from. I also generally had some trouble with this prompt, not used to prompt based writing but I want to try it more. I ended up throwing out two different stories before settling on this one which is slightly weird. I wasn't sure where I was going with it but I think I'm happy with what I ended up. Some of the descriptions are a little flowery but I think that comes more from the character than anything else. I also had a little fun trying to play with accents at the start. The main character has a Russian accent but I found it hard to convey that without going full Gregor on him which would have just seemed weird. Anyway it's done now, give me a read and tell me what you think. Also looking forward to what everyone else has to show. Hope it's all going well for the rest of you.

Title: In the Shadow of the Light

World: My own. Same as the previous story but almost 100% unconnected taking place 1,000 years before on the complete opposite side of the planet.

Genre: Fantasy/Horrorish

Words: 4408

Description: A newly seated Empress sends her consort to investigate a mysterious lighthouse.

[spoiler=In the Shadow of the Light]

Simroy was a small town on the south western coast. Trapped by the sea on one side and a desert on the other, it was a quiet town that was hard to reach and, as a result, rarely reported any trouble. However the light house, the sole landmark of the town, made it an important enough location to warrant its position on maps. At least maps used by sailors.

As he entered the town Johannes reflected on how odd it was that both this town and the place of his birth, far to the north, were both the same country now. Their language, culture, climate and skin tone couldn't be more at odds yet they shared a flag and a ruler.

A man wearing a badge Johannes recognised as a sign of leadership approached him not long after crossing the town line. "You are ze silver konsort?" he asked. He spoke his native language but to Johannes it sounded heavily accented as if the native was speaking a foreign tongue. That was the difference between learning a language from books and expensive tutors who had never been to this corner of the world.

"Yes. Johannes Titania is at your service." Thinking about the man's accent made Johannes keenly aware of how thick his own accent must sound. Even in the capital he was often mocked for his rough speech.

"Velcome, velcome lord konsort" the mayor said. "I, am Jafrizi." He pointed to himself to ensure Johannes could understand him. "You, heard our summons, yes?"

"Yes. I apologies for not having arrived sooner." Johannes stepped down off his horse while they talked.

Jafrizi nodded in a way that suggested he understood absolutely nothing of what Johannes had just said. "Come in to my office. Ve can discuss ze problem zere."

"My horse. Can someone look after it while we are talking?"

"Yes, yes." He shouted an unfamiliar word, something Johannes couldn't even begin to comprehend. A young boy, no more than six rushed towards them from behind a corner. Jafrizi spoke too fast for Johannes to fully understand but from the context he assumed the child was a stable boy. When they were done talking the boy approached and muttered horse. Johannes gave the boy the reins but he was a bit apprehensive. Vector, his war horse, was a huge beast. If he decided to misbehave, as he occasionally would, the young boy would be killed. But he was tired from the journey and didn't want to try and voice his concerns so he relinquished the reins to the boy. Jafrizi proceeded to beckon him into a nearby house.

"You must be, very varm in zat armour."

"I come from a place that is very cold" Johannes told him. "I am always too warm."

"You cross desert on ze back of ze horse?"

"Only for about one day. I was travelling by ship for most of the journey."

"Desert iss not good for horse. Camel, you should use camel."

"My horse, it goes everywhere with me."

"Ah. Yes, yes. Seat, take seat." Jafrizi forced Johannes into a seat when he would rather stand but he had already decided to take the path of least resistance with these not-quite-foreigners.

Jafrizi sat there nodding for a few seconds. Johannes shifted uncomfortably. "Your vife" Jafrizi said, a strange smile on his face. "Ze empress. Vhat is she like?"

"That's a good question." Johannes brushed the inquiry off. "If we might get to the business." Johannes was hoping to make this visit as short as possible. "What exactly is your problem? The letter, it was a little vague."

"Problem. You vant to know vhy ve called you here?"

"Yes. What is your problem. Something to do with your lighthouse."

Jafrizi's expression changed. "Yes, yes. Problem with ze lighthouse." He seemed a lot more sombre now.

"And what is this problem? You think it is some sort of monster?"

Jafrizi shrugged his shoulders. "Ve do not know. Ve send people zere. No one comes back."

"How long has this been a problem?"

"Ve noticed the lighthouse keeper vas missing eight months ago. Ven the man ve sent to check on him didn't come back ve sent two more and after zat a party of sixteen. Ven they too vanished ve declared ze place off limits and sent a messenger to ze capital to avait your arrival."

"Eight months is a long time. I am sorry we did not respond sooner. What about the ships coming through this area?"

"Zer is no issue. Ze lighthouse continues to vork."

"Really? But I could not get a ship to here."

"Ze sailors can come zhis vay but since hearing of ze trouble they have chose not to. Ze are a zuspicious people."

Johannes had no idea what he meant by zuspicious but he didn't comment. He was too busy mulling over the fact that the light house was still operational. That might mean the simplest course of action would be to just ignore the lighthouse and tell the people of Simroy to be thankful they don't need to employ anyone to work it. Although he considered it Johannes decided against it. That would be a bit to insensitive for his style and there is the possibility that the people who went missing are still trapped there.

"Vhat do you zink it might be?"

Jafrizi's voice broke Johannes out of his deep thoughts. "Oh. What it might be? I'm almost certain it's some type of malicious fairy."

"You mean a god?"

"Do you still worship the fairies as gods here. You're more rural than I thought."

"Kan you defeat a...fary?"

"I do not know...Why did you ask for me...me" Johannes tried to search for the word . "Me and not someone else."

"Vhy ve vanted you specifically?"

"Yes. Why me? Why not the empress? She would definitely be able to deal with this."

"Do you zink she vould have come?" Jafrizi asked with genuine interest.

"Probably not as quickly as I got here. Late as that is."

"Ah. Vell ze sooner it iss sorted ze better."

"I agree." Johannes looked at the fading sky. "The people who went missing, did they go when the sun was up?"

"Yes. Ze vent during ze day."

Johannes got to his feet. "Then I see no reason to wait until dawn. If something's going to take me then let's not leave it waiting."

Johannes trudged up to the light house. He had neglected to bring Vector with him. If this was to be his final day he didn't want the horse dying for it too. Now however he was regretting that decision. The lighthouse was deceptively far away and lay at the top of a gradual, but tall slope. "They're right. I shouldn't wear the armour everywhere I go anymore." It had made sense when they were fighting over the empire. When death threats and assassins sprung at them from every corner. Now he only received a death threat every few weeks.

He wheezed and sat down by a rock about two hundred feet from his destination. He was fitter back then too. A journey like this would never have left him breathless when the war broke out. Of course it was the war and Tobegeru's assassins that left him in this state. A punctured lung, a chipped bone in his hip and far more head injuries than anyone deserves to suffer were just some of the ailments that now slowed him.

"What am I doing here by myself" he muttered. "I wouldn't have made it out of any of those battles if it weren't for Talia and the others. I'm prince consort now too. I should have come with a full regiment like everyone advised." He got to his feet. "But old habits die hard. Let's get this over with."

It was a desire to prove himself he referred to . He had always sought to prove himself strong. So much so that he recognised it as a problem and tried in vain to stop but that only incited more recklessness as he tried to prove he didn't have a problem. Marrying Talia only made this obsession worse and winning the war left him with no outlet to relieve himself.

He reached the light house and drew his sword. He had expected a small door but instead it was a large oaken set of double doors. He composed himself once more to ensure he was ready to face whatever might be inside. Then he kicked the door in and entered the darkness.

Outside it was still bright but inside there was nothing but blackness and night. He could make out no shapes or no forms yet he could see himself, his silver armour seemingly blazing in the darkness. It was definitely not natural. He turned to see where he came from but was just as dark as everything in front of him.

"Alright. Show yourself. I'm no fool. You can stop all the smoke and mirrors." Johannes stepped forward and used his sword like a cane, certain he'd hit something but he only moved into empty space. He knelt down and felt the ground beneath his feet. It was soft and earthy which suggested he might still be outside though it was possible the lighthouse had no real floor.

"I know what you are" he called out into the darkness. He didn't bother speaking the local language. He was sure the fairy would understand his native tongue. "And I know why you're doing this. Your being petty. Humans no longer revere you so your striking back. But you're afraid of us. You won't do anything significant. You'll just attack a couple of villagers to satisfy your pride while in truth your desperately afraid of retaliation. Well guess what, retaliation is here. I'm the prince consort. So either leave this place or kill me. Keeping me in this darkness will only serve to display how petty you are!"

Suddenly light appeared in the darkness. Thousands of stars shined brightly above and below Johannes. He gripped his sword cautiously. "Your attempts to psycho analyze me are hilarious" a voice called out from the darkness. The voice sounded young with a note of strange familiarity.

"So I have you all wrong. Then tell me, why, why did you take over this lighthouse?"

"For one reason and one reason alone." The stars vanished and Johannes found himself in what he assumed to be the ground floor of the building. It was dimly lit but nothing compared to the all consuming darkness he had just been in. Before him, standing on the spiral staircase was a figure clad in armour. It began to descend as it spoke. "To draw you here" it whispered.

"What?" Johannes had not been expecting this answer. "Me? Why, how?"

"It was easy. When the villagers came looking for their friends I told them to bring you here. Either you would come or they would be slaughtered. As for the why..." The figure reached the bottom of the steps. It tapped its sword against the ground causing torches to flare up around the edges of the room. "You tell me."

Johannes stepped backwards. "What the hell?" he muttered. The man standing before him wore black armour. Black like the night he had found himself trapped in. His hair, slightly long was also black but a more comprehensible shade of black. He wore no shield but in his right hand was a sword dyed red with blood. These facts were irrelevant however. The only thing Johannes could focus on was the man's face. It was half framed in shadow from the flickering torches but it was unmistakable. It was his own face.

"Have I left you speechless, Johannes?" Now that the voice could be matched to the face he recognised it as his own, though it wasn't quite as deep. Likewise the expression of the other knight looked more savage than his own. At least Johannes hoped others didn't see his face that way.

"Who are you" Johannes whispered.

The other knight laughed. "You know who exactly I am." The other him took a step closer.

"No. No this is some kind of trick. You're some kind of fairy. That's why it was so dark when I first came in. You were copying my appearance."

The knight stopped and tilted his head. "Oh? You think so? Would some...fairy know your missing a tooth in the back of your mouth?" Almost subconsciously Johannes felt the missing space in his mouth with his tongue. "Would some fairy know you were raised by a man who was not your father or that you once left a friend to die to save your own skin?"

Johannes was shocked. These were things he had never told anyone. Not even Talia. He decided he'd had enough of this spectre and rushed at it, prepared to cut it down but he suddenly found himself somewhere else. Beside him there was a large bonfire that heated his armour and caused it to burn against his skin. He retreated from it and found himself at the edge of a tower. Though it had been dusk just moments before it was as dark as midnight now. Not too far away he could see Simroy in one direction. In the other direction was the sea where two other lighthouses flashing in the distance.

"The silver knight turned silver consort." Johannes looked back at the fire. The spectre was on the other side of the tower, walking alongside the great flame. The heat didn't seem to bother it at all. "The paragon of virtue. The hero who won the War of Twins. People praise you from one end of this country to another. Yet it does nothing to inflate your ego. In fact it does the opposite. Your opinion of yourself is so low you constantly seek out new ways to prove you are worthy of the titles." It finished it's walk around the tower and stopped in front of Johannes again. Slowly it walked towards him. "You know it'll never be enough. Each new feet you achieve only adds to the pressure of the mantle. You know you should stop thinking this way, that it's not good for you, yet knowing isn't enough." The...thing was right in front of him now. It reached out and lightly pushed him in the chest. He didn't try to resist at all. The small push sent him stumbling over the edge and plummeting to the ground below.

Pain erupted through his body but there's was something wrong with it. The pain was great, greater than everything he had ever experienced but logic told him he should have died from such a fall. That at the very least every bone in his body should have shattered yet he was still alive.

The thing was standing right beside him. It had not jumped. It was merely there. Maybe it was there before he even fell. "I can sense your heart" it said. "Our heart. You want to run, you want to flee. You, don't understand." The creature spoke in a mocking tone now. "You know I am no ordinary enemy. Not something you can slice apart with a sword." The sky slowly changed and with it the land. Johannes now found himself lying on a battle field, a blood red sun hanging in the sky. "You know a lot about slicing people apart don't you. Nobody wins a war without getting their hands bloody. Yet you don't mourn for the men you killed. You know you should and that tortures you, but the weight of killing your fellow man doesn't weigh on you. And that makes it easy to kill when you need to."

It leaned down and took Johannes' chin in his hand. "Now you're thinking, I feel bad, so I must be a good person." Once again its voice took a mocking tone. "I never try to hurt people. I defend the weak. Is that really true Johannes? Do you defend the weak? Or do you just use them in your self-destructive quest for self-worth?" It sounded bitter now. As if Johannes' pain was something it too was sharing. For the first time Johannes really started to believe what he was looking at was somehow an aspect of himself.

"What do you want with me?" Johannes growled.

It let go of Johannes allowing his face to fall into the dirt. "I want to see you in pain." It's voice was filled with anger.

Johannes looked up from the ground. "Why? What good will that do you?"

It laughed and covered its face. "There is nothing that can be done for me. Seeing you suffer can bring me some brief enjoyment but ultimately I am trapped. Trapped within you." It grabbed Johannes by his hair and lifted him off the ground. "Unless you decide to end it. For both of us."

Johannes didn't feel like laughing and it hurt his chest to do so but he was starting to understand the kind of game he had found himself in. This was a battle of wills. "That's the one thing I'll never do. There are people waiting for me to come home. I refuse to just disappear on them."

"Is that so?" The surroundings slowly morphed into the throne room back in the capital. Except unlike the throne room he knew it was dark and dreary. As if the entire building was infected by some sort of malevolent force. He had to remind himself there was no throne room and that in all likelihood he was still inside the lighthouse. The other Johannes flung him to the ground. "In that case I will simply have to keep you here until you change your mind. Your lover and your subjects will never see you again. That has already been decided."

If this hall wasn't real then that also meant he probably didn't fall off a building. As soon as he realised this the pain started to fade he began struggling to stand. "No it hasn't."

"Hmph. Seems you have some fight in you after all. But I can change that."

Both of them slowly raised their sword. Although he had convinced himself the pain was an illusion, Johannes was still hunched over while the other man stood straight and ready. There was a moment when nothing happened. Johannes held back from attacking, recalling his previous failed attempt. He had no idea why the other man wasn't moving though. Eventually he decided to try a different tactic and lowered his sword.

"You can't fight unless I give you something to fight against" Johannes said.

The other man smiled. "Our very existence is a fight" it whispered. Suddenly, without moving there, it was standing right in front of Johannes. It swung the bloody sword with beyond expert precision and cut out Johannes' eyes.

Johannes dropped his sword and clutched his bleeding face. No amount of mental reassurance could convince him this was an illusion. He fell to his knees screaming. At first all he could see was an ocean of red but it very quickly faded to black and he found himself in same darkness that had assaulted him when he first entered the tower.

"I think the worst thing I could do now is to leave you alone" the doppelganger said. "Leave your mind to rot until you beg me to end it." It grabbed Johannes hand and pressed it against the ground. Moments later pain flared through it as it was impaled in place. "But I can't end your suffering Johannes. Only you can."

Johannes couldn't tell how long he had been lying there. Hours? Days? Minutes? Seconds? Time had no meaning in the darkness. Time had no meaning without motion. He lay there, in the very same position. His hand still impaled with a knife. His thought about many things as he lay there. More than anything he changed his mind about whether his foe was something real or some form of illusion. After that he mostly thought about Talia. He knew she would eventually come looking for him personally. Eventually she would enter the lighthouse. What would happen to her, or to him after that, he couldn't even begin to guess at. Never once did he consider suicide. Deep down he was a spiteful individual and the fact that he was fighting himself only reinforced that trait. Losing to himself would only affirm the feeling of worthlessness he had spent his whole life trying to avoid.

At some point the cold hard floor of the throne room turned to snow. At first it was pleasant but it soon broke through his sense of timelessness and entered his bones. His nose began to run and his breathing became laboured.

"I need to go somewhere warm" he muttered. Otherwise my mind will kill me.

He grabbed the knife with his free hand and removed it. There was pain but since losing his eyes the pain had become irrelevant.

"I need to go somewhere warm" he said again. This time, as he struggled to his feet, something happened. The cold snow slowly changed to warm sand. "He's not the only thing that can changes things. In that case." Johannes raised his hand and willed a sword into existence. It was his own sword but he had left it in the capital. Fearing it might be stolen on his travels. It was a magic sword, one he had only ever had the chance to admire. He had found it in Tobegeru's treasury where he instantly regretted winning the war without a chance to use it. Now, even if it was imaginary, he finally had that chance.

"What are you doing? What is that?" As Johannes expected his doppelganger had not left him. It couldn't leave him.

"This is Ijós, the shining sword" Johannes announced. As he did so the weapon materialized. He could see it even without eyes. A shining line of light that caused his foe to appear as a silhouette in the darkness. "What's wrong pretender? If you're me then you should know exactly what this weapon can do."

"Yes. I remember. I just didn't expect you to do something like this. It matters not however. You're sword shall not save you. After all, anything you can do, I can do better." The silhouette held out its hand and something formed in it. "You drew your weapon from memory while I'll create mine from context. I should think that will make mine the superior. Necessity is the mother of invention after all." The shadow sword formed, biting back against the light and obscuring his foe in the darkness once more. "If yours is Ijós then I think Myrkur is a fitting name for mine. Are you ready?" Johannes couldn't help but get the sense that his opponent was enjoying itself.

Johannes swung Ijós in a large arc. He didn't step any closer. He didn't need to. A line of light emerged from his blade and extended its range. However his enemy parried with ease. It rushed forward forcing Johannes to block. It didn't stop after one strike either. It came at him again and again. Furiously like a beast blinded by rage. Each time Johannes was almost guessing where the attack was coming from. The dark light of Myrkur counteracted the brilliance of Ijós, the only thing letting him see.

As they fought it became apparent to Johannes they were fighting on a sand dune. As soon as he had a second to spare Johannes used this information to slash a cloud of sand into his opponent's face, rendering both of them blind. For the first time he heard his enemy cry out in pain and it felt good. He tried to follow it up quickly but Myrkur seemed to parry no matter where he tried to strike.

Johannes took a single second to gather his energy and thoughts. Then he swung Ijós with all his might. As he expected, the other knight parried. This time Johannes forced his blade forward but his enemy's defence was unyielding. With a roar Johannes forced both their blade's upwards, losing grip of Ijós in the process. Acting quickly he dropped to the ground and kicked at where he hoped his enemy's legs were. To his relief he felt the iron guarded shins and kicked with enough force to topple the creature. Immediately he made a grab for Myrkur, found it and threw it with all his might. They then struggled together on the sand only it was no longer just sand. Snow and gravel was mixed in it too. Johannes was certain the sky and surroundings would be changing too, if he could see them.

They punched at each other. Both desperately trying to find the unarmoured face. Eventually Johannes realised he had the knife at one point prompting it to magically reappear in his hand. He stabbed down on his foe and found flesh. He couldn't tell which part of the body it was but it didn't matter. He stabbed again and again and again, desperate to be rid of his foe.

Eventually the struggling stopped and so too did Johannes. He sat back, still on top of his foe, and stared into the sky. He saw nothing. His eyes still bled. Or perhaps it was a tear. In either case he felt something trickle down his face.

"Foolish Johannes.You can kill me no more than I can kill you." Johannes looked to the side to see a shadow blacker than absolute darkness standing right beside him. "Struggle all you want. This can end only one way."

He heard the blade cut through the air before feeling the impact. It tore straight through his armour and took off his arm in one stroke. Johannes had already screamed all he could. Instead he let out a gasp and felt with his other hand to confirm he had just lost an arm.

"Do you surrender?"

"Never."

"We'll see about that."

Johannes awoke to find his head resting on a bed of grass. He felt someone holding his left hand. From the softness of the skin he could tell it was his wife Talia.

"My right arm" he whispered. "Is it still there?"

"Yes. Of course it is" she told him.

"Then why can't I see?"

Edited November 3, 2015 by Jotari

[TheAssassinMercenary]

This contest seems interesting, but I'm guessing it's far too late to enter, given it started in March.

How often is it held? I'll definitely participate in the next one.

[Sunwoo]

Dude

Read.

;/

Edited October 28, 2015 by Sunwoo

[TheAssassinMercenary]

Dude

Read.

;/

I'm sorry, but do I have to register for the round or at the beginning for the entire contest? I often think about things too much when I'm interpreting them. I read the rules at the beginning of the forum, I only request clarity on this.

[blah the Prussian]

The way to register is to post a story.

[Jotari]

It's really quite a streamlined system.

[Magical Glace]

??? What ???

Creepy places aren’t exactly unusual for me. After the whole fiasco with a world falling apart at the seams, it takes a lot to scare me. Well, it takes heights… but that’s it! After all, after spending all that time surrounded by (and occasionally plummeting into) gigantic chasms, I feel justified avoiding them at all costs!

...Which is why I prefer to be at the bottom of totems. Idiot and Weirdo find me odd for it. Doesn’t explain why Weirdo insists on wearing that weird bodysuit with the balloons, maybe he’s afraid of heights too?

Anyway, enough talking about my perfectly-rational fear of high places. In our continuing search for “The Lady” (whose idea of fashion is horrid, I am not planning on being the one having to wear that disaster before the princess, I’ll leave that to Idiot) we have happened across an old mansion. I, of course, am not scared at all.

That, unfortunately, does not to apply to Idiot and Weirdo.

Both are quite convinced that The Lady is not here. They note how “unstylish” it is and how the Lady would hate all the cobwebs and such.

I think they’re just scared. Wimps.

You think I want you here?

So, I drag Idiot and Weirdo into the manor. It can’t be worse than the Dark Palace, what with the weird platforms that are only visible in the dark found throughout that place.

_*****

“Liiiiiiiiiii-iiiiiiiiiiime!” I turn to see a frantic Idiot running toward me, glowing like a lantern. Though he is technically wearing a lantern. Apparently, he’s scared of the dark, so he chose to wear that strange bit of “fashion.”

“What is it, Cherry?” I say, calmly as I can. Huh? Didn’t I just call this guy “Idiot?” Why would I call him that to his face? That defies all rules of etiquette, and Hytopians take etiquette seriously in the name of style. Besides, I’m too nice to say something like that to his face, regardless of how true it is.

“Plum got stuck a level above us. He’s trying to fight ‘the scariest thing ever,’ since we left him behind and--”

“I understand.” I reply, cutting Idiot off. “Show me where he is.”

_*****

Weirdo was actually fighting a single Ghini. He was still stuck, so I lifted Idiot up so he could save Weirdo with a boomerang.

Now, however, we can see nothing but fickly appearing and disappearing platforms above bottomless pits as far as the eye can see.

And as you know, I am not a fan of bottomless pits.

Which is why I was very annoyed that Idiot threw me into one by accident. He is an idiot, so it’s expected, but still. He knows I don’t like getting picked up. He knows I also dislike being thrown (why can he not set people down gently…?). And he knows that, above all, I HATE BOTTOMLESS PITS! WHY IS HE SUCH AN IDIOT?!?

A-hem.

So here I am, falling and waiting for the magical force to take me back to where Idiot and Weirdo are, crossing my arms and glaring at walls. Walls and I have bad history. Getting turned into a painting ultimately made me hate walls for what will likely be the remainder of my life. Curse my impeccable memory…

Finally, I land on something… soft. Huh. That’s odd, the floor I was standing on before didn’t feel like this. Maybe the hole Idiot threw me in isn’t bottomless?

It is pitch black in here, so I can’t tell what I am sitting on. I dig in my magical bag of pocket dimensions (there has to be another dimension in there, it wouldn’t fit everything otherwise, between my weapons and my clothing), looking for my lantern (Weirdo isn’t here so he can’t tell I’m the New Hero of Hyrule based on my possession of a lantern, after all, only Heroes carry lanterns everywhere since regular people never go into dark, creepy places).

Pulling out the lantern, I survey my surroundings.

I’m atop a large bed, which would explain why my landing was soft. The room I am in seems like a regular living quarter, it’s clean and spotless, as if a servant of some sort is here almost all day to clean.

I hop off the convenient bed, searching for a doorway. Idiot and Weirdo are probably getting worried due to the fact that the magical force had yet to return me to them.

As I spot the doorway, the first thing that happens to it is it bursts open. I hurriedly stowed away my lantern, determined to keep my identity a secret. If Lorule told me anything, it’s that lanterns always reveal who the hero is, regardless of context.

The one who threw open the door is a blond boy in a green tu-- wait a minute.

Two mostly identical strangers is bad enough! At least they have different hair colors than I do (Weirdo’s is blue and Idiot’s is red, my hair is auburn leaning toward blond, but it’s dyed green right now), but this guy can pass for an identical twin.

He stands there, mouth hanging slightly open. Is this his bedroom? Before I get the opportunity to stop him and explain myself, he’s running off, yelling something or other in what sounds like… ancient language? I guess he wouldn’t understand me no matter what I say.

I think he might be a ghost. Wonderful. I got thrown into a not-so-bottomless pit in a haunted ruin by a rather idiotic lookalike, only to land in a different lookalike who is likely a ghost’s bedroom, with no idea how to get back to Weirdo and Idiot so we can get back to hunting The Lady.

I sigh, following ghost lookalike out of his bedroom, stepping into a dimly lit foyer.

Said foyer happens to be full of more lookalikes.

I feel the gazes of many pairs of eerily similar eyes as the lookalikes turn to stare at me.

“Um…” I glance around at the crowd of tunic-boys. “Where am I?”

“Pony-land,” is the first response I hear.

Which makes no sense, there are no ponies here in some haunted mansion. They must be pulling my leg.

“That’s not right,” I respond. “Tell the truth!”

“We told you, Pony-land.”

“...I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“About Pony-land?”

“Will you shut up and give me a proper answer!?” My voice rose in annoyance as the room darkens.

_*****

“What in Hytopia is Pony-land?”

“Why would I know?”

I force my eyes open as I hear two extremely familiar voices blabber on to each other. Idiot and Weirdo seem to be having a discussion about where I just wa-- wait, they weren’t there.

That could only mean one thing.

I got knocked out by the magical force when it returned me to Weirdo and Idiot, and had a bizarre dream about a dark Pony-land and doppelgangers.

I sit up, drawing my companions’ attention.

“Ah, Lime, you’re awake!” Idiot says brightly, literally as well due to his choice of fashion. “We thought you were a goner.” Weirdo nodded in agreement.

I pause, look at Weirdo, then at Idiot, before immediately getting down to scolding them for making me deal with such a place. Though, I focused more on the falling off high places part of the problem than my subconscious.

That, after all, was likely a product of my choice to force the three of us to come here. Maybe I should think twice next time...

[spoiler=stuff]In case it wasn't blatantly obvious... Tri Force Heroes.

Lime/Narrator - Green/ALBW Link

Cherry/Idiot - Red

Plum/Weirdo - Blue

Anyway, the other two Links didn't really have a huge role in story besides being people the narrator doesn't like but puts up with anyway.

I tried to be... really goofy with this. Idk, It worked kinda I guess maybe.

Though he might seem pretty hostile here, the narrating Link still tries to help people, he just has a low opinion of the other Tri Force Heroes. They don't really have anything regarding background, so I made them idiotic for the sake of a joke.

Pony-land has nothing to do with Carmine Sword. The dream world here is called that purely because of how left field it is compared to the gloomy mansion and what appears to be past Links. Kinda bait-and-switch comedy, yes?

[eclipse]

If the deadline hasn't passed, you can enter!

I'm not sure if I can enter. . .my hands are going numb. . .

[eclipse]

. . .and time! I managed to hammer this out in an hour and a half, and I'm damn proud of the fact that I finished.

Title: A knight's vow

Universe: My own

Words: ~1830

Other notes: There's probably inconsistencies all over the place, and I'm not sure how closely I followed the prompt. If this isn't close enough, I'll throw my entry out.

Sunlight filtered through the off-white curtains, as Marie opened her eyes. She slowly rose from her king-sized bed, her hands leaving a dimple on the rich red sheets. Once her feet hit the ground, she reached up towards the ceiling, her hands barely reaching above the full-length mirror that stood in front of her closet. A small bead of sweat rolled down her pale forehead, past her light brown eyebrows, and into her pale green eyes. "I need a bath," she stated to the empty room, as she slowly walked across her room to the bathroom. The sound of running water reached her ears as the white silken nightgown she wore dropped past her knees, and onto the thick red-and-gold rug. The floor abruptly changed from luxurious fabric to hardwood, but Marie paid it no heed. It was a route that she'd walked countless times.

The porcelain tub occupied most of the bathroom, and Marie delicately took the brush that lay on a small table near the bath. As she ran the wooden-handled brush through her hair, she remembered the time when she'd felt the brush move on its own. She'd shrieked, and the brush clattered to the floor. From that day onwards, the brush had appeared on the table, always free of hair and lightly scented with lavender.

Once she'd rid herself of the uncleanliness that she'd felt when she woke up, she gently shook out a simple blue dress. You'll need to learn how to dress yourself, the servants are needed elsewhere, Marie. She thought back to the last time she saw her parents. We'll be back soon enough. Please finish reading through the literature list we've left for you. Her eyes had welled up as she saw the carriage disappear up the road, the horse's hooves kicking up a small cloud of dust. Out of all of her subjects, she hated reading the most. However, her tutors were away, so no one could tell her that she couldn't read.

She'd tested her freedom a mere two hours after her parents had departed. For all of her pushing, she couldn't make the rich brown door that separated her from freedom open. Her windows were far too high to climb out of, which left her stranded in her room. Despite this, there was always a book on her night table, and a meal waiting for her when she was hungry. The cooking was nothing like the roasted pheasant with fresh greens and wine that she was accustomed to - instead, it was a few slices of venison with boiled carrots and bread. But it was enough to keep her full, and after two weeks, she stopped caring about the strong flavor of the meat, or the lack of taste in the vegetables, or the slight specks of mold on the bread.

Though the blue dress was a bit loose around the bust, it was enough to keep her covered. She picked up the latest book that was left for her, its green cover faded with age. The well-worn pages contained bits of a time period that Marie had no taste for. History was something that was written by whoever had the stomach for it, and none of the writers were able to capture Marie's attention. Yet there was nothing, not even needlework, that she could do to pass the time in her room. With a sigh, she flopped down on her freshly-made bed and opened the book.

As her mind tried to comprehend something about a war that had happened two hundred years past, she heard footsteps. Were her parents home? She quickly rose from her desk, her steps swiftly taking her across the rug that covered most of her floor. Her nostrils were suddenly filled with the scent of something sweet, but before she could react to it, her eyes closed.

---

Marie squinted as the harsh rays of the sun woke her up. She'd become accustomed to sleeping past the dawn's arrival, and going to bed right as the sun set. As she sat up, she gasped, her clothes digging into her ribs. Had she failed to change out of the blue dress she'd worn yesterday? She heard water in the distance. "It's definitely time for a bath," she said softly, her feet catching on something on the floor. "A book? But why is it on the floor, and not on the table?" She put the offending tome back where she thought it belonged, and reached around to undo the bodice of her dress. Try as she might, she couldn't quite grasp the cord that would grant her freedom. She reached backwards one more time, and gasped as the cord loosened itself. But she hadn't seen anyone in her room!

She grasped her brush, noting the strands of hair that wove their way through the bristles. As soon as she dried herself off with yesterday's cloth, she saw an unfamiliar tan dress on her chair, and a note on top of it. "Please, be silent. Put this dress on, and walk back to your bed. Stand on the far side of your bed, and wait," Marie read to herself. She smiled at what would be a welcome break from her reading, and put the dress on. The coarse material pinched her arms and itched badly. Marie bit her lip and walked to the spot that the letter said to wait. Something gently tapped the hardwood floor, and the girl looked down. She managed to swallow most of her gasp, as a face appeared from a crawlspace next to her bed. The person shook herself out, her rich red dress marred by dust. She looked to be a year or two older than Marie, with nearly the same light brown hair and pale green eyes.

"Hurry," the strange girl whispered. "You'll meet the others at the end of the passage! They'll explain what's going on!" Marie looked at the girl, who could almost pass for her twin sister. She regarded the passageway, its depths leading to places unknown. She locked eyes with the girl one last time, and nodded, before crawling on her hands and knees. The light behind her cut out, and all was silent. Through the inky darkness, the girl crawled, until a faint light appeared in front of her. Another woman, about the same age as her mother, offered her hand. Marie took the strange woman's hand, and stared at the shelves of food.

"My lady, you made it out! But now, we must flee! We can't let Laurie's sacrifice be in vain!" she whispered.

"Laurie? Sacrifice? What are you talking about?" Marie asked. Rather than answer, the woman shoved her out of the door, into the stables. A cart full of hay waited nearby. Two burly men picked the girl up and shoved her inside. The woman followed her into the cart.

"Hang on, they will not stop if you fall out," the woman whispered to the younger girl.

"You've chased me from my room, wearing this awful dress, and yet you can't tell me why I'm being whisked away from my home?" Marie demanded, her voice shaky due to her emotions and the cart's pace.

"See for yourself," the woman replied, motioning towards the outside of the cart. Marie's eyes widened, as smoke poured out from her family home. Tears rolled down her cheeks, and onto her dress, but the girl paid them no heed.

"Why?" Marie gasped out.

"Many people resented your parents. Yesterday, they followed a rumor that their only daughter was cloistered in the house. Today, they went to confirm it," the woman said stoically.

"But what of the other girl?" Marie whispered, thinking back to the girl that almost looked like her.

"She had learned that she was with child. An unwed girl like her would be condemned to live her life out in the streets, begging for scraps for herself and her bastard child. Yet when I saw her, I could only see you, Marie. That's why I had her switch places with you. When the fire reaches your room, she'll jump out of her window, to her death. She will no longer be a disgrace to her parents, and the rebels will think that you died."

"Is--is that what life is like? Outside of my walls?" Marie asked quietly.

"Even within your walls, my lady. Did you never question why your every need was met, whether it be bath, entertainment, or food?" Marie shook her head in response.

"We were trained to be invisible," the woman said softly. "To serve our masters until our dying breath. That is the oath of a servant."

"But isn't that a knight's oath?" Marie countered.

"What good are knights, if their armor, weapons, and horses are not taken care of? We servants are the invisible knights, always taking on the truly important tasks, and never getting credit for them." Marie gulped.

"I--I'm sorry!" she blurted out. The woman gave her a small smile, and patted her on the head. The cart lurched to a stop.

"We have arrived, but we will not stay here long." Marie took the woman's hand. Her gaze fell upon a pile of rocks, a small red brooch nestled on top of them. The girl fell to her knees.

"I'm sorry, my lady. They were set upon by bandits, and out of the five guards that accompanied them, only one managed to escape. We found him at the servant's entrants, your mother's brooch in his cold fingers. When we rode out, we found what was left of the wagon - and your parents." Marie ran to the woman, and sobbed on her shoulder. A rough hand gently patted her head.

"Wh--what shall I do?" the girl whimpered.

"The world thinks you have perished, and your parents can no longer help you. You're free to do what you will, my lady."

"That means I'm--I'm invisible--just like you," the girl said slowly. "A--and what use is an invisible girl?" she continued.

"Perhaps you can find a liege, and swear your loyalty there. Or maybe you can learn the ways of darkness, and avenge your parents. Or perhaps you can take on another identity, and make your way as a wandering scholar. The choice is yours, my la--Marie." Marie closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

"I owe my life to you, kind woman, and will stay by your side until the day I have repaid that debt. Where shall we go next?"

[eclipse]

Oh, right, there needs to be a post with the prompt and the stories, so here ya go~!

Got an idea.

Prompt:

In honour of Halloween, my prompt is things that lurk in the darkness. Whether it be the monsters that live in the woods, the ghosts in the graveyard, just the old man who never comes out of his house, or any spooky thing you can imagine, many mysteries and tales surround them. Write a story about the things scarcely seen, it doesn't need to be a horror story, it doesn't need to be paranormal either, and the mysterious thing(s) can be either benevolent or malevolent. Use whatever kind of plot, characters or setting you want, as long as it can, at least loosely, fit with the theme.

Constraint:

The main character cannot be the thing that lurks in the darkness.

Jotari

Glaceon/Ran Yakumo

eclipse

[jankmaster98]

Dang it! I forgot Hawaii doesn't have DST so I thought I had till 12:00 PST to put my thing up, should've driven home faster.. Oh well, best read the stories, that's what i get for being a procrastinator...

[eclipse]

DST ended today.