(not the end. more to come)

writer
(creator of the Beachcomber dragon.)
(Honey design and basic story)

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There was no way she could possibility justify this.
There was no way she could convince herself that what she had done was in any way redeemable.
She had violated a grave. Worse still, the grave of a Knight. And not just any Knight but Sir Galon herself, one of the legendary four Paladins.
And yet, Honey found that no matter how hard she tried to convince herself of her wrong doing the feelings of guilt and despair simply refused to surface. She had taken from the body of the skeleton her armour and the book which she held and returned with both immediately to her room above the inn. She had not been seen by anyone and Shriek, for once, had been as quiet as a mouse.
She laid the armour out on the floor of her room and stood looking at it. It was a spectacular breast plate with a pauldron across the left shoulder, all of it perfectly curved and shaped to fit a female frame.
“In the resting place of old lies the path.”
Those had been the words carved onto the key that had admitted her into the crypt and into the very tomb she were had found this armour.
The Count, he had led her to this! That had been his intention from the beginning now, she was certain of it. This armour that once belonged to a legendary Knight 500 years ago he intended for her to have.
But why? Why go to all this trouble to lead her around like this? On that thought, Honey glanced out the window towards the backyard behind the tavern. Shriek was lying there against the sidewall in the mid morning sun, soaking up the sunlight as he napped.
A Dragon, a key and now some armour.
What connected it all?
Before she could think about it anymore, she heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards her bedroom door. She was carrying a basket full of clothes under one arm. Quickly Honey pushed open a trunk at the end of her bed and dumped the armour underneath a set of sheets before closing the lid and locking it. A moment later, her aunt pushed open the door and stepped inside.
There was nothing left lying around to incriminate but Honey’s slightly guilty expression caused Candy’s eyebrow to arch slightly.
“Do you have a boy hidden in here somewhere?” She asked in an amused tone. Honey blushed and recomposed herself.
“No, no. It’s just I was up late at night.” She replied, refusing even to cast a glance at the chest. “I think I might sleep in today.”
“Not feeling well?” Candy asked.
“No not really.” Honey was not lying exactly. While despite her intentions, she did not feel guilty, the depressing tomb which she had robbed had left her so depressed that the mere idea of working in the kitchens filled her with something akin to dread.
“Very well then.” Her aunt said with a warm smile. “I’ll have someone bring some lunch up later on. You get some rest.”
She deposited the washed clothes and then went out, closing the door behind her. Honey waited until the last of her aunt’s footsteps on the stairs faded and then she let out an explosively pent up breath.
What would anyone think or say if they learned what she had done. The graves of nobleman were sacrosanct and the punishment for grave robbing was severe.
She found herself highly disturbed by the fact that she was more concerned about avoiding punishment than she was for the actual crime itself.
Her morals were certainly not lax but in this case they had drastically faltered.
Letting out a sigh she sank down onto her bed and then looked over at the book which lay on the pillow. This book had been in the grasp of the skeleton, clutched in a death grip it seemed. Honey hadn’t even dusted it off yet. Its rusty bronze hinges were covered in cobwebs and there were no identifying marks on either the front or the spine.
Honey drummed her fingers on it for a moment before pushing the cover open. The paper inside were remarkably well preserved for something that had to be at least half a millennium old.
The writing on the pages began immediately with no title. It was a spidery text similar to the writing that had been on the key that led her to the crypt where she found it. It took her a little time for her eyes to adjust to it.
“Today, I have stood before the king of Soleanna and have knelt to receive that which I have sought so hard to attain. Today, he has made me a knight and I stand beside my kinsmen in pride.” Honey began, reading aloud. She picked up the book and laid it in her lap. “I shall keep this book at a testament to my thoughts and duties to that when we grow old, we may look back at what is written so that our memories of these happy times will be cemented in time.”
Even as she read the words, Honey realized precisely what treasure she held in her hands.
This was a journal!
No works of the four legendary knights had ever been found. The capital city had been turned upside down for generations and no tomes written during their time concerning them had ever been found.
And now, she, a lowly tavern girl was actually reading one of their journals!
Her excitement overrode any moral compunctions and she carried on reading.
“Almost immediately after our elevation we marched with the main column of support troops to aid in the breaking of the siege of Brooken. The godless Kukkuh birds have surrounded the city and now, under the command of Davious we march towards our first battle.”
Davious.
She knew that name from the stories. The four legendary knights had their names written in antiquity. They were known as Sir Galon, Sir Rikoye, Sir Dario and Sir Davious.
Davious, according to the old stories, as the greatest and most skilled of the knights. It was said that he was invincible in battle, a swordsman unequalled in all the land. The fables of his valour and prowess in battle were more than legend. There was not one single infant or child in the duchy and few outside who hadn’t heard of how Davious the Great, invincible warrior had defeated entire armies by himself.
With sudden interest Honey carried on reading the ancient diary, unable to put the book down now.
The book began with a gripping first person account of the siege of Brooken, a city which had been destroyed during the War of Ruffled Feathers.
The Kukkuh had attacked from the east, their invading army looting towns and villages until they laid siege to the city of Brooken. Immediately the duchy galvanized its forces to repulse the invasion but they did not have enough troops. The religious orders in Soleanna then donated their knights to the war effort and the crusade to drive out the invaders began.
The church knights with Davious at the forefront raised the siege after a week and then the four knights had chased the birds all the way to the border. There they stood fast against three repeated invasion attempts, each time seeing them off but not once overstepping the border to march into Kukkuh territory.
According to her Journal, Sir Galon said that this was Davious’ idea. Each charge by the Kukkuh brought more and more criticism from the surrounding kingdoms. Finally the Monarch of Kukkuh gave up and their armies, battered and broken by the disciplined knights and their invincible leader, retreated back into the mountains.
Sir Galon left no detail untouched in her account of the event and her adoration of Davious that crossed the boundary between brotherhood and infatuation was obvious.
Someone brought up food for lunch at some time but Honey paid them no attention as she continued reading.
As the diary began speaking about the events which led to the rise of power for the Order of Solaris, there began another interesting story.
“Davious returned from his voyage to Alfheim yesterday and when he returned he spoke to us, giving us a fantastic vision of a new quest. A quest which he firmly believes will shake the world and rewrite history. He begged us to meet with a strange man so that she might give us better instruction for such a quest. I know not what he intends but I will follow him for as long as he lets me.”
Honey actually felt herself growing excited with each sentence that she read, as if this story was drawing her in page by page.
“East of the city, up in the mountains we waited for this man Davious wanted us to see.
What came to speak with us was something I can not admit that I honestly saw. My faith in Solaris forbids me to admit any truth in the heathen faiths so I will not put the entity to name but instead, I will simply say that what I saw was an old man with long white hair and in a simple robe. Despite his years he walked through the heavy snow easily and had no impaired vision despite the fact that he had only one eye.
He told us that we had tasks to perform, that destiny was calling us; that our actions would give way for the coming of a chosen one… a warrior who would come to save the world in the moment of its gravest peril.
He told us that our quest would take centuries but if we succeeded then we would see a great wrong put right. To this end, he told us to venture forth and seek an ancient sword…a blade he referred to as ‘Calibur’. Once we found it, we would receive more instructions.
Before we could ask him of his meaning, he disappeared into the snow, a sudden blizzard hiding his retreat from us. Obviously he had misspoken. How could any quest take centuries for us? We asked Davious who or what this man was. He smiled at us and said…
“Those in the far east call him ‘Merlin’.”
And thus began the greatest quest we have every undertaken, the quest for Sword of the Messiah.”
When Honey put the book down, she saw that it was dark. The book and story had so gripped her that she had been sitting here reading it the entire night. She had even stopped to eat the lunch someone had left without even realizing it.
Her imagination was fired with visions of knights and quests fought with danger and peril. It was a naïve, innocent image of a cliché stereotype but still it gripped her. In that moment of heightened awareness she realized something.
The mysterious nobleman, the count, had intended not just for her to take the armour of Sir Galon, but also the book as well. Somehow he had known what was in the book and how it would affect her.
He had wanted her to take Sir Galon’s armour and inspired by her words, become a knight herself.
Her face contorted.
“Sophistry!” She snapped to herself. She could not justify robbing a grave so that she could carry on that knightly role.
Or could she?
There had been instances where squires had taken the armour of their fallen masters to acclaim the title of knight and carry on in their stead. Did the Count really intend for her to take Galon’s place? A small sliver of ambition, unbidden, snaked its way into her heart and a hope began to dawn in her mind. A knight? Her?
The next day she went about her duties around the tavern with this ethical dilemma on her mind. She was so distracted that she nearly served the wrong food and drink to customers all day and even Shriek was looking at her sceptically. After closing time, she returned to her chambers and opened the chest and uncovered the armour.
Undisturbed for centuries, it had laid in the crypt awaiting her to take it back into the light once more.
Staring at it she perceived something. Nothing was more important to Honey than duty and without even realizing it; she had taken up the burden of this one. She had removed the armour from its resting place and as such, the duty had been placed upon her.
The Count had ensnared her with this trap! For that was what it was, a trap. For now, she realized with a mixture of dread and awe that she had to take up the mantle of knighthood now that she had taken the armour of Galon. If she had any respect for both her honour and that of Galon, she had to take up this challenge and carry on where Galon could not.
She began to tremble as without even realizing it she picked up the chest plate and held it before her.
As if it had been meant for her, it fitted perfectly, the armour hardly chaffing her at all.
That sealed her fate. She knew with utter certainty now what she had to do.
Her aunt had been startled by the sudden decision but Honey began spending time at the militia barracks in town, learning from anyone who had the patience how to fight. As luck had it, residing at the militia barracks was a veteran knight who had spent many years within the Order. He was a kind old man and took it upon himself to instruct her when others just turned her away.
The old man, who did not give his name, was a strange old figure whom the other militia did not really like. He had a thick white beard and one eye had been lost, presumably during his active service in the Order.
Oddly, she did not remember seeing him around town before.
She had expected him to laugh at her ambition but he merely smiled at her and without a word began to train her in the usage of heavy armour. He spoke to her only when he had to and when he did speak he had a strange accent that she could not quite place. It was definitely not Soleannian nor Midgardian. He had a little twist to it that she had heard once or twice from travellers from Jotunheim in the tavern although he certainly did not look like a berserker.
He trained her… first in the use of armour, then in swords although Honey found swords difficult to handle. They were heavy and cumbersome and her slender body wasn’t suited to it. She guessed, as she had seen no sword in the crypt; that Sir Galon hadn’t been either.
Honey discovered however that her skill flowed more natural with shorter, lighter weaponry. Her process with short blades and daggers was excellent and when practise over the coming months, her marksman abilities grew superb. Throwing daggers became familiar tools for her trade and after a year had past since her training began, she was deadly with a knife.
All the while she pushed herself athletically, swimming whenever she could, running long distances often and even following a muscle development scheme she found in a book at the local library although the method of lifting beer kegs might have been a tad outdated.
“A knight?!”
Honey had not been expecting any other kind of response from her aunt than this one so she was prepared for it when the time came to finally admit to her what she intended to do.
Candy stood there in the kitchen with the fragments of the dish she had been washing at her feet where she’s dropped it in surprise.
“Are you serious?” She asked in a stunned, almost awed, voice. Honey just nodded once.
“I am.” She stated. “It’s something I think I need to do.”
Candy stood there, unable to think of a coherent reply for at least two minutes.
“Honey…” She began. “The knights… they’re not chosen by ability or skill, they’re all noblemen! Only those with duchies and earldoms earn that right! It’s an ownership class.”
Honey shrugged.
“I know that.” She replied. “That’s how the Order of Solaris operates. But I’m still going to try.”
“They’ll never let you in.”
“I’m still going to try.” She repeated and that was the end of that.
Over the year Honey had spent in training herself, Shriek had finally grown to his full size. His period of gorging was over and finally he settled down to regular diet of shell fish and whatever else he caught from the nearby sea. He had grown and now stood at his full grown, his head rising over nine feet in the air with a wingspan of near 35 feet. He could no longer fit comfortably in the slender streets of the town anymore and the back yard behind the tavern was simply too small for him.
Honey knew it was time to leave.
She would go to the capital city and perhaps with luck and a display of skill, she could enter the ranks of the Order and become a knight.
It was a long shot admittedly but still she was going to try.
She packed whatever things she thought she might need into a single small case. She took only the barest of essentials, leaving the rest of her belongings behind.
This was still her home and she wanted it to be exactly the same when she came back. She would come back. Eventually she would come back.
When Honey went to retrieve her armour, she found that it was laid upon her bed, polished to perfection and shining in the light coming through the open window. Also, the armour had been newly adjourned with a red short cape coming down from underneath the chest plate to cover where the back of her legs would be. It was a superb piece of clothe, trimmed with white stain in a jagged pattern across the rim and in a covering piece of clothe across the front where the folded edges met.
Standing over the armour was her tutor, the old one eyed man who had taught her own to fight. He looked back when he saw her enter the room.
“I too the liberty of making a few improvements.” He remarked with a widen smile beneath his thick white beard. “This is what the armour used to look like, restored now it might be a little more impressive to the eye.”
Honey stood there a little dumb founded that he had found the armour she had taken time to hide.
Her tutor chuckled and stepped aside.
“Come now, there’s no time for this… not if you intend to get going.” He remarked.
“How… how...” Honey started.
“Oh no time for that.” He cut her off. “Here, let me help you into it.”
Too stunned to argue, Honey allowed herself to be suited up. Putting on armour properly took far longer than the average person might think. First an undercoat of black was prepared and slipped on, as well as pads to ensure that the armour did not slam against its wearer in battle. Then came the armour itself, slipping on as if it was meant for her.
Belts helped keep it in place, as well as the cape that turned almost into a sort of skirt down the back of her legs although it had a comfortable place for her tail to come out.
And so she stood there finally prepared to begin her journey. Across her arms she had gauntlets made of leather, jet black with red trim with the same decorations across her shins down to her boots. As a final personal twist, she wore around her neck a piece of clothe with a gold medallion that had once belonged to her uncle.
Her tutor looked almost proud.
“And so now you’re ready.” He told her, patting her affectionately on the shoulder. “But tell me, what quest do you follow?”
“Quest?” Honey repeated.
“All knights, proper knights, have quests to follow… some goal to which they dedicate their lives to. Without that, they’re just people in armour taking orders. So what are you seeking for?”
“I don’t know.” She admitted after a moments thought. “Is there anything that important to look for?”
“Oh yes.” Her tutor’s expression was impish. “But what that is you’ll have to discover for yourself.”
Honey, in full armour, took one deep breath and then started towards the door. As she reached for the handle, she stopped and looked back.
“Wait… how did you know what this armour used to look like? That was 500 years ago.”
But the man who had trained her and restored the armour to its proper state was gone.
Her aunt hugged her once and despite her own doubts about the journey, Candy wished Honey the best of luck on her new path.
As there were no real roads in Soleanna, cars were rare and their country had no automobile industry to speak of. It was customary to go everywhere by horse.
Honey had no horse. She had something much better than that.
Shriek understood her need at soon as she approached and ducked his neck slow, allowing her to climb up onto his back where they were plenty of room for both her and her small collection of things in amidst the feather like scales between his wings. Now fully grown, her dragon strode with the streets proudly and the people melted out of his way in awe at the sight.
Once he was clear of the buildings, he looked back over his shoulder towards the sand cat he had chosen as his owner.
“To the north east.” She told him affectionately, patting him on the side of the neck. “We need to go to the capital city.”
Shriek chipped his understanding and facing forward, he began to run, his legs blurring in a gallop as he raced forward. Then his wings spread out side wide and with a few effortless beats he was in the air, soaring with Honey clinging to him up into the cloudless sky.