Glory

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic

Chapter 1 (v.1) - The Birth of a Knight

Submitted: August 06, 2018

Reads: 174

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Submitted: August 06, 2018

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The Public Diaries of Christopher Krauseton circa. 607 AD. "The Birth of the Rage Knight"

As a traveler and historian, I was called upon by Duke Gonmouth to document his "ascension" to the throne. I was to record his greatness and bravery as he took the throne from the king of Westrux. 

I was told to burn that days records. But no, as a devout and truthful scholar I hid the record to show it to the world just as all my other documentations have been shared.

That day, I witnessed something incredible. The king was cornered, his royal guard dead, alone facing twenty mercenaries and the Duke's Sunlight Guard. The king at a mere eighteen years against the hardened killers of the desertlands southlands and experienced fighters of the Sunlight guard, I surmised it would be impossible for him to survive and I would live through another coup against an innocent king.

Yet, the child did not waver.

The king charged with such bravery I felt a sense of sadness to see such a man die. What I didn't realize was that it was not bravery that led to fight, but rage. The mercenaries actually laughed at the kings charge, and took his threat with levity and jokes. 

So the king killed them. Never have I seen such pure carnage, as it Mother Nature herself endowed him the force of a cyclone. An uncanny method of swordsmanship he used, two short swords flashing with canny murderous intent. The boy was not graceful; no, he was momentum and fury. His back hunched, knees bent, swords twirling in a perverse economy,he pushed through his enemies with extreme speed and prejudice. Tendons were severed, bones shattered, limbs cut off, guts spilled, heads decapitated.

In his dance, you could see the expressions of the soldiers change from haughtyness to confusion to utter terror. The duke was screaming at his soldiers to kill the lone king, and the organized Sunlight Guard moved in. Five of the best soldiers known in the region got into their Light Formation, and I thought the king would finally die. Three minutes later all of the guard lay dead at his feet, the duke grovelling at the king's mercy. And what did the king do? He stabbed the duke with his sword through the back of the head and then out of the mouth as if a red and silver tongue had emerged from his mouth. There was no hesistation.

His shoulders had sagged in respite, his soul placated by the death of his conspiring foes. I remember how he looked at me as I stood there in shock, thinking I would fine the fate of those that supported the foolish duke. He left me alone, and has been yet to be seen since.

Now the Red Knight, as we call him, is used by mothers and fathers as warnings to their vexing children. Beware and be good, or the Red Knight will come for you in your sleep. The factions that fought for the empty throne still fear him, his name whispered and known to be a bad omen. 

I desire to meet this man again. Perhaps fate will serve me well and our roads will cross once again. 

 

Christopher Krauseton


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