LordLuck
The Wicked Historian
- Joined
- Feb 10, 2011
- Posts
- 2,649
(closed for haremfaery)
What a glorious day!
It was. The young knight had surely outdone himself in this one. Some whispered that Sir Guillaume was the youngest winner of two tournaments in a row since, since... since the Count Marshall himself. Many had come to him, to hold his hand tight and smile, joking about how had his good luck delivered hims the prize rather than his own habilities.
And the jealous stood far, speaking and whispering against him, plotting his downfall, as they've always did. But those Guillaume had not to fear, for his Lordship would care for him. He had always done so. Lord John had always cared for his household, it could be no different.
"Cheers for Sir Guillaume!", some of his peers spoke aloud, bringing claps and whistles from the many peasants that had come to witness the games, their filthy clothes and dirty faces smiling with toothless mouths, strabic eyes, and doing dances and singuing profane tunes.
"That's my Guillaume!", had said Lord Robert Hawkwood as he had lead Guillaume inside of his own castle, where the tournament had been held, his hand laid at the younger man's shoulder. Hawkwood's finesse as a warrior was no smaller that the young Guillaume's, and his grizzled face showed proudly a fair amount of scars, and a broken nose. This constrasted with Guillaume's own juvenile features. Fair eyes, emouldured by his mane of brown hair, coming to lay freely until his square, strong chin. "You'll be sitting at my table today, my friend!"
Friend, had Lord Robert called him. Not too bad an achievement, after all. Guillaume's father was a petty lord of a forgotten marche far from Hawkwood's own fiefdoms, but that had once fought side-by-side the older noble. Received and welcomed, Guillaume's talents had been noticed since the first time he had jousted, and John knew how to craft a fine knight from that young, proud yet timid boy.
And that way the evening went on, Guillaume thanking and praising the other competitors as they've all came to compliment his success. He was sitting by Hawkwood's right side, two chairs down the long, wooden table where the feast was about to be served, that he had noticed her.
What a glorious day!
It was. The young knight had surely outdone himself in this one. Some whispered that Sir Guillaume was the youngest winner of two tournaments in a row since, since... since the Count Marshall himself. Many had come to him, to hold his hand tight and smile, joking about how had his good luck delivered hims the prize rather than his own habilities.
And the jealous stood far, speaking and whispering against him, plotting his downfall, as they've always did. But those Guillaume had not to fear, for his Lordship would care for him. He had always done so. Lord John had always cared for his household, it could be no different.
"Cheers for Sir Guillaume!", some of his peers spoke aloud, bringing claps and whistles from the many peasants that had come to witness the games, their filthy clothes and dirty faces smiling with toothless mouths, strabic eyes, and doing dances and singuing profane tunes.
"That's my Guillaume!", had said Lord Robert Hawkwood as he had lead Guillaume inside of his own castle, where the tournament had been held, his hand laid at the younger man's shoulder. Hawkwood's finesse as a warrior was no smaller that the young Guillaume's, and his grizzled face showed proudly a fair amount of scars, and a broken nose. This constrasted with Guillaume's own juvenile features. Fair eyes, emouldured by his mane of brown hair, coming to lay freely until his square, strong chin. "You'll be sitting at my table today, my friend!"
Friend, had Lord Robert called him. Not too bad an achievement, after all. Guillaume's father was a petty lord of a forgotten marche far from Hawkwood's own fiefdoms, but that had once fought side-by-side the older noble. Received and welcomed, Guillaume's talents had been noticed since the first time he had jousted, and John knew how to craft a fine knight from that young, proud yet timid boy.
And that way the evening went on, Guillaume thanking and praising the other competitors as they've all came to compliment his success. He was sitting by Hawkwood's right side, two chairs down the long, wooden table where the feast was about to be served, that he had noticed her.
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