Part 1:4

Seth was in the barn fixing their small hand cart. He picked up its wooden wheel and turned it over in his hands; although it was cracked and worn, he figured they could get another season or two from it yet. Reaching for his small wooden hammer, he fitted the wheel into the brace and banged a peg through the hole, checking both sides to make sure that the wheel would hold in place. He then spun it to ensure it turned freely. Satisfied he smiled.

Several weeks had passed since their father had died and they had been left alone. He had thought about taking Mr. Olmar’s offer of moving to his farm, but that would mean giving up their land. The thought of losing their home brought a lump to Seth’s throat and he swallowed, trying to get rid of it. His father had been proud of their small estate and he knew that it was important to his father that his sons had a place of their own. While it was under the Duchy of West Endaria, and his father a vassal to the Duke of Tarrington, they had been left to their own devices and rarely bothered by the politics of the large city to the north.

Seth stood and twisted left and right, then leaned over and stretched trying to ease the knot in his back when Lucas burst into the barn.

“You gotta come see this it’s amazing they have horses and armour and swords and they’ve got flags and I think they’re knights,” Lucas said without taking a breath.

Seth held out both arms as his little brother skidded to a stop in front of him. “Whoa, calm down,” he said. “What’s got you all excited?”

“You gotta come, they’re coming this way!” Lucas said, practically dancing on the spot.

He dropped his small hammer and dusted his hands on his pants. “Whose coming this way?”

“The knights on horses with the swords and flags and there’s a big wagon with soldiers, come on!”

“Alright, alright I’m coming. This better not be one of your pranks?”

“It’s not I promise you gotta see!” Lucas said, disappearing around the corner of the barn. His head poked back through the door. “Hurry up!”

Seth couldn’t help but get caught up in Lucas's enthusiasm and started after him, but a feeling of dread began to overshadow his excitement. Even though they had stayed, there was a very real possibility that someone would come to take the land from them. As he had not reached his coming of age, anyone could come, claim themselves as the new owner, make them disappear—or enslave them—and take their home. All they needed was the deed. He thought it was the least likely to happen, but this was the thought that scared him the most. He stopped and went back for the hammer. Picking it up he tested its weight and swung it awkwardly in the air. Sighing, he reminded himself to continue looking for the deed, he was sure his father had hidden it somewhere in the house. Then he turned and followed after his brother.

Seth walked between the pig’s pen and the fenced-off area for the chickens, and then along the side of their humble home, a single storey house of stone walls, glazed windows with wooden shutters, and a clay tiled roof. As he rounded the corner, he was taken aback by the column of mounted knights and soldiers trotting along the narrow lane that led to their home. He counted at least a score of them. But it was not the several knights at the head of the column that captured his attention, or their lofty banners emblazoned with a gold crown over crossed scepters. It was the knight on the jet-black horse behind them, armored in shining mail and a black cloak trimmed in silver that draped down his back and over the rear of the horse.

Seth watched, caught in the fantasy of the chivalrous knight as they circled the yard in front of his home.

“Yar, Yar!” Yelled Lucas, bursting into the yard and swinging his homemade wooden sword above his head. He ran between the knights as they dismounted.

One of the lead knights took off his helm. “Oh-ho! Look out friends, we have a fearsome warrior before us.”

Seth stepped from the corner of the house. “Lucas, enough. Come here!”

Lucas kept yelling. “Yar, Yar!”

“Lucas. Enough!”

Lucas stopped in front of the knight, planted his feet firmly apart, and stuck out his sword. “Friend or foe?” he asked with as much seriousness as he could muster.

“That would depend now, wouldn’t it?” The knight responded. A wicked smile turning the corners of his scarred mouth. “Would a friend swing his sword at another friend?”

Lucas’s face scrunched, and he looked at his sword aimed at the knight whose white surcoat covered his plate armor. The man threw his head back and laughed, deep and mocking.

“Lucas, put that down!” Seth said coming alongside him. He put his hand on his brother and gently pushed him back, placing himself between Lucas and the knight. He clutched the hammer tightly in his hand, barely aware of his fingernails digging into his palms.

The knight’s laughter shifted seamlessly into speech: “We have a serious one here do we, and who might you be little lord?”

Seth's heart raced as he looked into the dark eyes of the man in steel towering over him. His black hair was pulled back into a simple knot and the scar on his upper lip gave him a permanent snarl. Seth trembled and clenched his jaw. Had they come to take his home? If they had, they weren’t getting it without a fight.

The knight stepped forward and reached for the hammer. “You won’t be needing that.”

Seth stepped back, keeping Lucas behind him, and pulling the hammer away from the man’s reach.

“Come now, before you hurt yourself.” He reached again, trying to snatch it from him. Seth twisted and pulled away, half raising the hammer. A dangerous look flashed in the knight’s eyes and he lunged. Lucas screamed and launched at the knight, swinging his wooden sword down. The sword clunked as it bounced off the armor.

“You little scoundrel!” The knight hissed and grabbed Lucas by the scruff. At the same time he grabbed Seth by the wrist and squeezed, forcing him to cry out and drop the hammer.

“Enough!” roared a voice.

Instantly they stopped as the word reverberated around the small yard. Seth looked over the shoulders of the knight who had his wrist in a vice-like grip.

The knight, no, the lord in the shining mail and black cloak walked towards them with a determined stride. He reminded him of the old stories his father would read at bedtime about Petyr the Great, Hadrian the Bold, and his favorite—Berenger Dragonheart. These were the stories that inspired him, and he dreamed of being a famous knight, a champion of the people.

“Sir Tymon, see to the provisions and encamp the company.”

The knight sneered and shot Seth a look that said, ‘I’ll be back for you!’ Begrudgingly he dropped his wrist, stood, turned sharply, bowed and said: “At once My Lord,” then stormed away.

Wincing Seth looked down and rubbed at the red mark forming around his wrist. A shadow fell across his face. The man standing before him was slightly shorter than Sir Tymon, but he was thicker and broader. His dark hair and neatly groomed beard had flecks of grey, and his eyes, a dark brown, were sharp and appraising. Seth faltered under the gaze and looked away.

“Apologies young masters,” the man said tilting forward in a small but respectful bow. “Times of war can be challenging for some, it riles them, sets their blood on fire.”

“Who are you?” Lucas blurted out.

The man laughed, warm and sincere, not the boisterous mocking of Sir Tymon. “I young master am Lord Colton Brack, Viscount of Evergem, but you may call me Colton.” he said smiling.