The present day: about ten years later.
Rolen Nailoen, knight in training, was on a horse. Sure, he had ridden horses before, but now he was galloping along behind his mentor, Sir Jethro Deepmire, at top speed. He was not a good rider at the best of times, but he was finding it absurdly hard to keep his balance between the movements of the horse, the rough road, and the wind blowing in his face as he tried to focus on not falling off.
The knight glanced over his shoulder at the his older Squire. Rolen was old enough to begin training, but Squire Dunderhead was still very young and was kept at home doing chores. Today was a good day for riding practice, in the knight’s mind. Just enough clouds to keep the sun from being in their eyes, and not too many. The wind could not be helped, but it would be better once they made it around the turn.
“Sit up! We are coming to a turn!”
Rolen managed to regain enough balance to sit upright and direct his horse in the correct direction.
*******************************************
Once he deemed practice over, Sir Jethro reigned in his horse. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the squire lagging behind, but almost there. Rolen was very saddlesore. He felt like all he wanted to do was lay down in bed and sleep. But looking around, he realized they were not home. In front of them stood a wayside in, the Dancing Rat. There was a swinging sign above the door, depicting a mouse in a tutu preforming ballet, jumping over a candlestick. The painting was well done, said to have been painted by a traveling artist many years ago. The inn had stood for many years, and was one of the principal stopping points in the small hamlet of Nettlebridge.
They dismounted and tied their horses before entering. The inn was just as busy as usual, with groups of travelers and locals mingling at large, round tables. There were a few customers at the bar, where a man and a woman were working together to serve drinks. The knight led the way over to the bar and sat down on a barstool. He called out to one of the bartenders.
“One flagon of ale, and some soothing tea for him.”
Rolen looked gratefully at his mentor, then immediately quailed at the look on Sir Jethro’s face. A lecture was coming...
Luckily for Rolen, it was relatively short, and it became less violent with each gulp of ale that the knight took. Rolen knew most of what he had done wrong already, but was grateful for a few of the pointers he recieved. And he hadn’t done too badly, because he was only assigned Double Exercises the next day.
As he sipped his tea his mind slipped to the time when he had to do the rigorous Exercises five times. That had been an absolute nightmare. His muscles had ached for over a week.
As his mind began to wander, there came a thrum of music from one side of the tavern seating area. A man who looked slightly older than Rolen was sitting down on one of the seats at an empty table. Rolen noticed the innkeeper talking to him for a moment. They shook hands, and they seemed to have agreed on something. The man had a lute in his hands and began to play skillfully. Soon the man began to sing along with his music.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
Up in a tree.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
I’m wait-ing for thee.
Birds nest in the springtime,
They never rest.
Of all the spring birdies,
I love thee the best.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
Up in a tree.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
I’m waiting for thee.
(Lyrics by yours truly, RenzFlintrock)
The music filled the air, and there seemed almost to be a smell of blossoming apple trees, and the smoke of some of the men’s pipes seemed to take the shapes of birds, flying, perching and sitting on nests. The knight and the squire were delighted by this preformance. Once the song was over, they clapped along with many other patrons of the tavern. A few of the people even gave the musician some small coins.
The patrons of the tavern had a merry evening, listening to the music, chatting, swapping tales, and obviously, enjoying food and drink.
Rolen Nailoen, knight in training, was on a horse. Sure, he had ridden horses before, but now he was galloping along behind his mentor, Sir Jethro Deepmire, at top speed. He was not a good rider at the best of times, but he was finding it absurdly hard to keep his balance between the movements of the horse, the rough road, and the wind blowing in his face as he tried to focus on not falling off.
The knight glanced over his shoulder at the his older Squire. Rolen was old enough to begin training, but Squire Dunderhead was still very young and was kept at home doing chores. Today was a good day for riding practice, in the knight’s mind. Just enough clouds to keep the sun from being in their eyes, and not too many. The wind could not be helped, but it would be better once they made it around the turn.
“Sit up! We are coming to a turn!”
Rolen managed to regain enough balance to sit upright and direct his horse in the correct direction.
*******************************************
Once he deemed practice over, Sir Jethro reigned in his horse. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the squire lagging behind, but almost there. Rolen was very saddlesore. He felt like all he wanted to do was lay down in bed and sleep. But looking around, he realized they were not home. In front of them stood a wayside in, the Dancing Rat. There was a swinging sign above the door, depicting a mouse in a tutu preforming ballet, jumping over a candlestick. The painting was well done, said to have been painted by a traveling artist many years ago. The inn had stood for many years, and was one of the principal stopping points in the small hamlet of Nettlebridge.
They dismounted and tied their horses before entering. The inn was just as busy as usual, with groups of travelers and locals mingling at large, round tables. There were a few customers at the bar, where a man and a woman were working together to serve drinks. The knight led the way over to the bar and sat down on a barstool. He called out to one of the bartenders.
“One flagon of ale, and some soothing tea for him.”
Rolen looked gratefully at his mentor, then immediately quailed at the look on Sir Jethro’s face. A lecture was coming...
Luckily for Rolen, it was relatively short, and it became less violent with each gulp of ale that the knight took. Rolen knew most of what he had done wrong already, but was grateful for a few of the pointers he recieved. And he hadn’t done too badly, because he was only assigned Double Exercises the next day.
As he sipped his tea his mind slipped to the time when he had to do the rigorous Exercises five times. That had been an absolute nightmare. His muscles had ached for over a week.
As his mind began to wander, there came a thrum of music from one side of the tavern seating area. A man who looked slightly older than Rolen was sitting down on one of the seats at an empty table. Rolen noticed the innkeeper talking to him for a moment. They shook hands, and they seemed to have agreed on something. The man had a lute in his hands and began to play skillfully. Soon the man began to sing along with his music.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
Up in a tree.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
I’m wait-ing for thee.
Birds nest in the springtime,
They never rest.
Of all the spring birdies,
I love thee the best.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
Up in a tree.
Hey, Hi jolly robin,
I’m waiting for thee.
(Lyrics by yours truly, RenzFlintrock)
The music filled the air, and there seemed almost to be a smell of blossoming apple trees, and the smoke of some of the men’s pipes seemed to take the shapes of birds, flying, perching and sitting on nests. The knight and the squire were delighted by this preformance. Once the song was over, they clapped along with many other patrons of the tavern. A few of the people even gave the musician some small coins.
The patrons of the tavern had a merry evening, listening to the music, chatting, swapping tales, and obviously, enjoying food and drink.