Alamandrian Tales Pt. 01

Hello! It's been sometime that I've been able to sit down and write creatively. Mostly due to Covid-19, I've been forced to work from home and it's taken over all hours of the day. This is a fairly wide deviation from my other series, it involves a saintly knight succumbing to unnatural temptations. It is a little slow getting into the juicy bits of the story, but stick to it and I'm confident you'll be happy you had. As usual, let me know your thoughts or comments in the comment section below or by using the contact tab on my profile. Without further adieu, Welcome to the Alamandrian Plane...

-Dr. Masterfield

Fettered light oozed its way into the domicile, filtered through the thin glass of the window. Dust softly tumbled through the air, carried upon the draft in the old Church. It was to this picturesque serenity I roused myself, the golden dawn beaming, peering its glory above the shallow hills and rolling valleys of the Alamandrian plain.

My name is Theon Barker, and I am a Champion of Justice; wielder of the true word of god. His sword wielded with tact to the breast of evil, his cleansing flame to cleanse the filth of villainy. I, am a Holy Knight of the Roses; Wielder of the Thorn.

I opened the door out of the dormitory quietly, so to avoid waking my other knight-brothers from their slumber. I was the first to rise, as was typical on most days. The old hinge buckled and creaked in protest, but alas relented. I shut the door behind me and proceeded into the old monastery. The old oaken planks creaked under my weight; my soft sauntering kicking up dust as I deftly descended the stairs into the chapel.

The Chapel is the eldest part of the monastery, made eons ago by a kingdom only scholars will remember; the building is made from hewn stone, each block carved to seamless perfection, so much so that even after hundreds of years of neglect, the walls stand true and barely even appear weathered. Central to the room is a red carpet that runs the length of the building to the sturdy wooden portal into the vestibule, the central walk way, flanked on both sides by stained glass windows. The golden rays of the sun splaying through them in a brilliant display of color.

Kneeling in front of the alter I closed my eyes and focused on the glorious rays of sun beaming through the circular window above the alter.

"Our father in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy Kingdom come-"

"Good morning sir Theon!" Called an obnoxious voice from behind me. "Oh, my apologies, I hadn't realized you were in prayer". His tone snide, underhanded, as was his custom.

"Good morning Abbot Greenwald." I glowered, raising to my feet.

"I trust you are prepared for today's duties?" His words caustic like the bile of a hungry wyvern.

"Which are; your grace?"

"You are to go to Cookham, the small hamlet along the red river." Abbot Greenham had taken residence on the pew second from the alter, seating his grotesque arse with a creak of protest from the ancient pine.

"What is the motivation for such a journey?" I quipped.

"Baron Harraldson has some disturbed theories as to the nature of the tithes collected in His holy name; you are to collect these tithes and return them here."

"With all due respect, collecting of tithes is not the duty of a Knight of the Thorn, your grace." I practically spat the last few words exaggerating sharply the "grace".

My animosity for the Abbot was as good as common knowledge among the dwellers of the monastery, and perhaps beyond. He was not a holy man in the slightest, drinking, gambling, and whoring relentlessly; but his family had connections, and along the lines of hierarchy within the church palms had been greased, sullying His holy name and landing his "holiness" in a position of power over myself and the other Knights of the Thorn stationed in Alamandria.

Despite the animosity, there was little I could do to rectify the situation, I was honor bound to follow the orders of the church, regardless from whom such orders were delivered; and to recant upon my vow would be a fate worse than death. All I could do was prey that judgement would be swift and final upon his soul; and though it is a sin, I wish it could be me to administer such judgement upon him.

"I tire of your witless insubordination Theon; you will see this done or consequences shall be dire." He said, while glowering at me.

I felt the rage burning in my chest, threatening even my divine constitution. I turned and left the monastery without another word.

--***--

I had gathered my things for the road in short order, it was the custom of the knight to travel lightly, especially of late. The abbot's policies had left many a town impoverished and desperate, demanding harsh tithes from the people with the threat of divine judgement. It made me sick, but as I had said already, there was little I could do until the chaplain took particular interest in these affairs the word of the Abbot was as good as the word of God in his glory.

The roads just weren't safe anymore, people had resorted to banditry and skullduggery to feed their families, making those who they blame particularly succulent targets. What a sad state of affairs; while I felt for the men who were subjected to this life, theft and murder must be punished... The path to hell is paved with the bones of the well intentioned, or desperate after all...

My travelling garb was made up of a mail shirt over my gambeson, and a thick woolen cloak in an attempt to hide my knighthood.

The town of Cookham was a half day trek through the wood. Though in ideal circumstances it is a mere two-hour journey utilizing the river, but alas, the Red River was treacherous this time of year and few dared to risk such a journey for fear of capsizing.

The heavy gate clanged shut behind me as I sized up the task for which I was called. It was in essence a shake down, a protection racket, and I knew it. It's likely the village is struggling to feed itself, given that it is a fishing town, relying on the river who is unpredictable this time of year.

I shook my head in dismay as to what was being asked of me. It made me feel sick to my stomach. I was the hand which was to deprive their bellies of food. I kicked at a stone upon the path launching it with fury.

Fortunately, the elements were kind today, fluffy clouds cascaded across the sky through the branches of the old oak trees that lined the old forest road. The golden rays of the morning sun refracting through the dew on the branches. The stillness of the morning was poetic. Though I thought it funny there was no sign of the song birds this morn...

Just then an arrow jutted from the underbrush, just shy of my right shoulder, I turned with haste looking toward the accoster. Where two hooded men wearing dirty garb charged me from both sides.

I called upon my divine strength; pearly flames were born of my fists, and I caught the larger of the two brigands throwing him with force into a looming birch; the wood cracking on impact sending the top of the tree tumbling down onto the dilapidated man at its base.

"Shit, yer a tough one aint'chya?" The other vagabond grumbled through his decaying teeth.

"Leave now, for my wrath is reserved for another this day, foul man." I said stoically.

"Heh... Ain't too smart though." His rotten teeth forming a raunchy grin.

Another man had crept behind me, flanking me easily, and pressed a knife into my side. Thankfully, his steel failed to penetrate, my mail serving its intended purpose.

I rotated quickly smacking the assailant in the jaw with the back of my hand, the hit landed and hard. His head made a snapping motion before he collapsed to the hard ground, scurrying away undexterously.

Unphased by their paltry attempt at an ambush, I drew my sword. The divine power bestowed upon me, bled through my grip into the steel. Reaching its apex in a crescendo of white-blue holy fire.

"I will warn you only once more, retreat and keep your miserable existence, I wish not to kill you; wretch." I beaconed to the two men. Their gaze locked upon the holy flames of my longsword.

"ge... Get em' Karl!" The vile toothed brigand shouted, as a fourth and substantially larger brute crashed forward wielding what I hazard to call a club, in reality, it was the severed branch of an ancient oak tree probably four and a half feet long, and about one hundred pounds, even my divine strength would be damaged by such a strike.

He swung the tree viciously, savagely, but uncoordinated. I weaved easily, dodging the telegraphed swings.

Before long 'Karl' began to tire, rousing the weapon up above his head in a vain attempt to crush me; I easily side stepped the clumsy attack and with a deft hand slashed the tendon in his leg, his weighty body falling limp towards the ground, screaming in a dullard tone. I used the false edge of my sword and rend his head from his shoulders, slicing through the bone, flesh, and sinew with ease; as a knife through butter. Blood splattering over the faces of the stupefied brigands.

Swiftly, without further words the others ran clumsily through the underbrush of the trees escaping a similar fate as their compatriot. I did not even attempt to make chase.

"It did not need to be this way." I sigh, a hearty breath.

I cleaned my weapon and said a prayer to the fallen man. He was half orc in blood, the greyish tone to his skin informing me, as I appreciated his body. Sheathing my sword, I continued on my way to Cookham.

--***--

The remainder of the journey to the hamlet left me undisturbed. One might assume the events of the day aught to have left me heavy in heart, but sadly, the occurrence was all too common. I trained myself to pay little mind, for to do so would surely weigh too heavily upon me... As I arrived to the town's square, eyes from every corner fell upon me.

The town was shabby, the homes and buildings appeared to be strung together from scraps of timber found adrift, all but the church that is. Towering above the village, the church was built upon a hill to the north west of the town, casting a large shadow in the heavy sunlight of the late afternoon. I wasted little time in approaching the longhouse central to the square, pounding harshly on the door.

"It is Sir Theon of the Knights of the Ros..."

Baron Harraldson, tumbled through the door with force, not to attack... but to...

Grovel at my feet.

"Please sirrah, we need the coin, don't take it from us!" He said clasping his hands around my ankle. I kicked away some, but he persisted.

"I take it, you expected my presence then... It's true then, you refused to pay the tithe?"

"Please, sirrah, I beg of you, my people... they are starving... I... am starving." Pained tears streaming from his eyes, a man desperate indeed... Harraldson stared up at me into my eyes, pleading. His face sunken in, this poor man likely hadn't eaten in days. His meager form a mere husk of a man.

My stomach turned over time and again, I was disgusted with myself, disgusted with what had become of the church, disgusted by the greed that allowed such a tragedy to persist. Abbot Greenham was a festering wound, one that must be burned and cauterized. Cleansed of its impurity. Purged of its putrid stench...

I extended my hand to the cowed man, helping him to his feet.

I looked around to the gathering of towns folk that began to emerge to witness the event unfold. I dropped my pack and removed the rations I had packed for the return trip to the monastery, dried bread, figs, and cured meats, and dispensed it to the elderly and children who gathered. Before climbing up onto the lip of the well. This gave me a raised view, and allowed me to more easily project my voice.

"This injustice has gone on for far too long..." I paused to look upon the faces of the weary town's folk.

"It was to be my duty to take what little you have for no other reason but to quench the greed of the Abbot Greenham... I, Sir Theon of the Knights of the Roses, shall make of it my solemn quest to see that fiend brought to justice. In the mean time..."

I glanced at the imposing church set upon the hill.

"I will see to it you've something to eat this night..."

--***--

I welled up the holy strength rested in me, kicking the huge church door off of its hinges, with a loud crash the three thugs hired by the abbot masquerading as priests shot up with vigor.

"Explain your intent, interloper, and make it good!" The man I recognized as Gregory of the Dales, he frequented the monastery often, plotting and scheming with the wretch.

The other two men crowded in front of a table with roasted boar, and hundreds of coins and gems pried from the weakening, half-dead village no less.

"I am here to return such undeserved misery you have wrought here. You will turn over this church or I shall have to enact swift judgement upon you." My eyes harsh, my tone true, my sword...

A glimmer of hope. As it burst into life with holy fire.

"Ha... Ha ha... Hahahaha!" Gregory laughed a hearty laugh.

"A knight cannot draw arms in the house of god! You will be punished for this!" The stouter priest chided.

"Excommunicated!" sneered the other with confidence.

"This... is no longer a house of god..." I said.

Drawing my sword, holy fire present, to the dismay of the foul creatures before me, under normal circumstances, drawing my sword with the intent to harm an innocent or man of God would have my powers drained, today though; I was His sword.

--***--

Shortly after I returned from the church hefting three bags of flour, the roast boar, and some loaves of bread I raided from the church's larder. Villagers swarmed around me, tears welling in their eyes as I handed out the food.

"Eat while you can my brothers and sisters. There is ration enough for another week." I spoke as the town's folk gathered around the abundant food.

Baron Harraldson approached me, tears welling up in his eyes. "Thank you sirrah, you've single handedly saved my people... How can I... How can we ever repay you?"

"Go... Go by the grace of God, not His church." With that I turned and left the village, Abbot Greenham would undoubtedly have spies or informants keeping tabs on the village; it was just his way.

I left without standing on ceremony, the people of Cookham were fed and well, for a time anyway, it was the best I could do at this moment. I had to turn my attentions to removing the abbot from the church.

The long march back to the monastery was long and arduous, I was hungry, tired, and beset upon by the night. It was not long after I left Cookham that the sun began to fold beneath the apex of the rolling valleys. Golden rays cut through the evening mist between the bows of the fir trees. A final moment of peace before succumbing to the onslaught of the night.

I needed to be wary in the stillness now more so then during the day, between the brigands and other ruffians, the woods were teaming with violent fauna, more so now that the peasantry have reduced to scavenging.

--***--

I made it to the gates of the monastery unmolested, but I could sense my plight was only just beginning. Two of my brother knights stood outside of the gates, pointedly waiting my return, sword in hand; curiously devoid of the silver flames. As I approached, I sensed a foul stink in the air, demonic presence was near, and in abundance.

In unison, they stepped forward, with mechanical synchronicity, pointing their blessed steel towards me.

"Halt, you are a heretic to the church and shall be punished for your sins." They both spoke in a strange sync, their voices melded into one. Something else was there, my gaze piercing the darkness of the torch lit night, a single tear streaming from Brother Jory's eye.

"I know the tongue you wield is not your own, brothers... I wish not to kill you."

Demonic possession, the signs were clear; how it is that the creature managed to bypass the mantle of defences He had bestowed us is unknown... They would have willingly relinquished it, or been unaware of the beast's influence... Either prospect did not give me much respite.

"You will stand down. Sir Theon." Their voices fraying, pained, and sullen in tone.

The only way to rend demonic influence from a person so enthralled, is either to kill the source, i.e. the demon, or to contain the poor soul in a vat of holy water. Such implements did exist, but we did not have any such thing at the monastery. Thus, leaving me with the only option; kill the fiend that did this to my brothers... I had a clue as to where the source was.

The two possessed brothers lurched forward in unison, as automatons. I flared the divine strength in me, His glory coursing though my veins, I moved with inhuman speed and swept to the side of their sweeping cuts, crashing their heads together with force. Their eyes returning to a usual shade as their unconscious bodies fell limp into my arms, I placed them onto their sides softly.

"God be with you my brothers..." Resting my hands onto their faces.

I wasted little time, opening the gate, to my surprise there were no other of my brothers around. A double-edged sword though, that would mean they were elsewhere... With little protest my divine strength wrenched open the doors to the Chapel.

A hazy green light was emitted from the alter, defiled by demonic power. The word of God no longer held sway here. Greenham stood above a portrait of the Virgin Mother, pissing upon the priceless art.

"Ah. Sir Theon, I've been expecting you. Have you come to join your brothers in unity?" His voice was there, but something was off about it. As though something lie in its wake.

He shook his cock of the last dropplets of urine and tucked it back into his slacks.

"I have come to see this once holy place cleansed of your filth. See you brought to Justice."

"Ever the stoic, it is a shame you are so mighty, to have eluded my charms for so long; you would have made a fine addition to my... little family..." Greenham licked his lips with a boil covered purple tongue.

"Your evil ends here wretch... Show me to your demon overlord and I will allow you the chance to repent for your crimes committed in His name."

With that, Greenham laughed maniacally, and purple lighting burst from his open palm. I extended my mental shield forward casting the black magic aside with ease.

Black raven's wings erupted from Greenham's back a thick ooze-like ichor splaying all over the ground as his human flesh melted away, revealing a hideous blend of ebony flesh and black feathers.

I steeled my gaze to his deer-like head, with six glowing eyes. I drew my holy steel, facing down what I could now see as a greater demon. He was the size of a Clydesdale horse, with the muscularity to match. His large raven wings fully distended, dripping black ichor over the stone of the chapel. Huge fiendish talons extended from his hands.

"I give you now one offer in finality" The beast thundered; the sound of clattering bone echoed through the chapel.

"I'll not accept any demand from a creature such as yourself."

"Come Theon, do not be unreasonable. I am invulnerable... Without weakness."

"My Valor, is your weakness fiend."

I leapt forward wielding my holy sword, ablaze with divine fury cutting furiously at the beast. He moved unnaturally quick for something of his size, I only managed to land a few glancing strikes, not inflicting lasting damage. The beast taunting me, not even attempting to fight back.

"Is this the best your God can do?" His tone as much a taunt as the phrase... Laughing... he was laughing at me.

"Rrrragh!" I swept my sword with fury, and coupled it with a false edge Krumphau, severing the hand of the beats. His six glowing yellow eyes piercing, to my dismay... Smiled.