Arise, A Knight Ch. 01

***(Author's Note:)

***I wanted to try a more character and story centered project that would build up the relationships with each character and then develop into sex. There would be sex scenes in later chapters, but for now I'm just trying to establish the setting and the characters that live in it. This is set in a Fantasy setting, A bit of Middle Ages/Renaissance like period, just to give a heads up.

**This opening chapter will have no sex scenes just yet. As my name implies, I'm just an amateur and there is bound to be a heck of roughness in my work. Rest assured, once all the chapters are out, I'll go back and do some serious revising and editing. I'm just trying first to put all of it down in paper as neatly as I can without getting bogged down in my own nitpickings and madness.

*Thank you for taking the time to read my work, constructive feedback is much appreciated and I hope that you are doing well, wherever you are. Once again, thank you.

**This chapter is to introduce our Main Protagonist, Rickard.

A crow cawed off in the distance, the noise it made was like a spear impaling on Rikard's ear as the horizon turned to a lazy orange. Amidst the dark shadows of the forest that surrounded them, he sucked in a breathe, trying to calm his nerves as his eyes glancing to the ever lowering ball of flame in the sky.

"You know, it would have solve all our problems if I just..." he leaned in closer and put his arms around the old man, intending to carry him over toward the cart.

"AAGH!" Rickard sprawled on the dirty, clutching his head as a searing white pain travelled down from the top of his skull. He rolled on the dirt as if it would lessen the pain.

"Don't you damn dare carry me like a freakin' princess, boy!" The old man somehow produced a cane from somewhere, and was waving it at Rickard's direction, and all too eager to release out another blow. Rickard lay in the dirt, even when the pain was retreating. He tapped a finger against the dirt, all the more worried at the setting sun and losing the light. The shadows was ever growing with each passing second.

He tried to soothe the old man's legs beneath him, feeling the sinewy muscles and weak bones as he hoped the old timer would regain his strength. Rickard tends to forget how quiet it was out here in the deep forest, the gentle waft of some forest's wind would brush by and the hundreds of thousands of leaves rustling thought the wind was equal parts haunting and serenading.

A coldness crept from the base of his spine.

The old man in front of him looked so old, Rickard would remember a time, long ago now, where he would always look up and see the towering form of his grandfather, where the old dark hut wasn't so dark, when light and laughter would be filled inside. Old Jakey here is but a few living reminders of what once was.

No old one should be alone in their twilight years. Especially good people like Old Jakey. They have lived a long life, they deserved to be among friends and family, not ghosts and shadows.

Now, the field wasn't as tilled as it used to be, with weed growing in splotches. And the old lot at the back of the hut now sports two mounds of dirt, with each having two stones atop, a crude shaky writ scrawled on each stone.

Rickard got up and walked shabbily, putting his hand on his head.

"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going?" asked the old man after him.

"Going back! You can stay here in your lonesome. I'll just have to tell Ol' Balthazar he'll have to find a new chess partner," Rickard called back, making a mock attempt of climbing atop the cart.

"Guess I'll have to tell Ol' Balthazar he'd have to find another chess partner."

"Alright! ALLRIGHT!" the old man shakily put his legs beneath him, or at least tried to. Rickard was about halfway down to help when with a great shaking of old bones he managed to say upright. And with great almost tumultuous effort, put one step in front of the other and then another, as Ol' Jakey was almost to the cart he walked without almost no trace of his debilitation.

"What the hell, old man!? You could have walked?!"

"Shut it boy!" Rickard could feel another headache coming alongside the one the old timer put on his skull.

Not wanting to stay and test their luck at night, Rickard nudged Bessie to move.

"And what's with you? Spooked by shadows? Your grandpa and ma would have been disappointed in you being afraid of 'em woods," Ol' Jakey spouted, Rickard noticed the forlorn loos in the old timer's eyes, his wrinkles deepened and an almost endless well of sadness in those near milky eyes of his as they rode away from his home.

"It's not the shadows I'm afraid of, it's what might be lurking in them."

Ol' Jakey spat, "the barbarians."

"So you have heard," Rickard gave the old man a glance to the side. Bessie, the donkey, was making good stride and a gentle stream of air wafted in their faces.

"And who have you heard that from? You live at the edge of the map."

"Who do you think? Our friends deep in the forest."

****

Rickard breathed a sigh of relief as they finally entered the townwalls. It was already nearing sundown, the world tinged in blackish blue hue as folks start coming indoors. Rickard noticed there were more men manning the walls now. A precious few wielding long metal poles, looking like spears in the near darkness. Muskets, he heard them called. Could pierce through armor with one shot.

With only a few weeks left for the Harvest Festival, the streets were nearly half empty despite the coming event. Rickard let out a sigh as he stopped by the tavern, dropping off Ol' Jakey.

"All right, I'm a bit late so, Karsenberg and the others have been expecting you now for a while and have room and board ready," Rickard nudged the donkey, heading towards the manor, just pass through the town and unto the otherside

"Yes, yes. How many times do you have to repeat it? I'm not senile."

"Oh, and try not to cause too much trouble, alright?" He moseyed the donkey slowly towards the direction of the manor, passing through the lanes of the town and out Streamer's Gate.

The manor was an old thing. It was a lonely, stiff giant pile of rock in a sea of grass. It was not made to be of a great beauty or intricate design. It was a stoic fort, manor is what later generations of the Schans had called it when there was no need for its more pugnacious functions. They decided upon adding beautifications and what not, because that's what nobles with plenty of money do.

As Rickard drove the cart around the back gate, the Servant's gate, he got down and pushed the hardwood gate, his back strained at the effort, and blood pumped to his face, reddening his cheeks at the weight of the thing. He pulled on the reins of Bessie and had her stabled for the day.

He heard voices bouncing off the walls echoing out of the windows, shrill high pitched voices, most likely from the main house. He breathed in deep and hurried as much as he can. His back protested once more as he offloaded all the wood he brought from Ol' Jakey's. Along with a sack of potatoes and a crate of cabbages he managed to bargain at the market earlier that day. He even managed to pull a few favors and got a five foot trail of sausage, it's been a while since the kitchen had good sausage.

Rickard looked towards the sky, stars in in their legions were out now and the crescent moon swung loftily in the far off horizon. The sun had fully set.

He slowly opened the kitchen door, peering inside.

The sweat stained face of Lotte greeted him, a lock of hair sticking out, amidst the night chill.

"Where were you?" she said to him, just as she was preparing supper amidst three stoves. This kitchen was supposed to be fit for a dozen. All that remained now was Lotte, and she wasn't even supposed to be doing so. The Schans have been in decline for generations now. The Old Master and Mistress Schans were kind people and made the good of what they had. In some small ways, Rickard missed them just as he had missed his grandparents. He was given to the Schans at first as a servant, but Rickard had figured out that it might have been that his grandparents had sensed their time coming.

The grief was gone now, just a somewhat sad happiness in him, if that ever made sense.

"They've been looking for me yet?" he asked, snatching an apple from a nearby table and biting into it.

"No, but I think they're about to."

Rickard made his way and saw that the hallways leading up to the main house had not yet been lighted. He took a wick from a drawer and ran it through the stove. He shielded the flicking flame with one hand as he lit the lanterns attached to the walls one by one. That done, he went to present himself to the ladies of the house, the surviving heirs of the Schans.

"Hey," Lotte called after him just as he was about halfway through the stairs.

"We need to talk. Right after" The look her eyes made his chest tighter. It was going to be serious.

"A-all right..." He gave her a smile he didn't feel and went atop the stairs and into the main house.