KamaKamaSutra
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 18, 2018
- Posts
- 3,425
A Knight Lost once found. Closed for darkwarrioress57
Leyton, relaxed outside the blacksmiths forge, the heat rolling out of the building stifling even as fall set in. His face was creased with worry about the day, not for the blacksmith's charge to refinish his sword, but what this mission meant to him and his oath. Leyton was a knight in service to the King of Martellus, Heinrich VII. He had trained from the age 6, his family stripped from him by the plague, luckily, he was found by his mentor Sir Marcus the hedge knight. Sir Marcus trained him, taught him the hedge knights code. Defend the weak, stand for what is right, never take up arms for an unworthy cause. Around Leyton’s 16th birthday his Mentor was called to battle, the King was facing a great invasion and need all knights of the realm to answer the call. Leyton begged to come along, to prove that his training had not been for naught, but Marcus refused him and placed him in the charge of an old friend who had run an Inn that Marcus frequented. She tried to keep him busy, daily chores and an early bedtime. But as a boy he was glory hungry and ready to fight One night he sneaked through the inn and into the stables, he ran away, taking a horse and rode to the battlegrounds. The ride took most of the night and day, passing weary travelers and injured soldiers from the front, he started to be afraid that he had made the wrong decision. As he was about to turn for the inn, he passed a tent with a familiar horse tied outside of it. Marcus’s horse nuzzled him as he approached, a familiar scent in the hellscape of the front lines. Leyton, ducked his head as he entered the tent, he covered his mouth, the smell of blood and raw meat threatened to choke him. A woman was bent over his mentor, blood-soaked linens were thrown to one side, a bloody bowl of water beside her. She noticed him as he approached, she turned her dirty face streaked by tears.
“Boy, what are you doing here?”
Leyton struggled to speak, his words didn’t want to come, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. Marcus spoke up, his voice strained and hoarse.
“Leyton, what in the hell are you doing here? Why would you follow me, I left you where you would be safe?”
“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t stay there while you fought, I can wield my sword as well as most and I am able-bodied, I should have been beside you."
He moved to the woman’s side, anything that he could have said more was choked off from the sight of his mentor. He had been caught by a rider’s lance, the shaft broke off in his chest, bloodied and bruised his chest was a mixture of dark purple and sickly yellow bruises. Blood oozed thick and black from his wound. Looking toward the woman, his eyes pleaded for hope. He found none in return.
“Leyton, listen, go home. This battle is almost done, don’t sully yourself with this mess. Return to the Inn and enjoy your life, find a good woman and die old and next to a warm hearth.
Marcus groaned as Leyton hugged his neck, patting the back of the boy’s head Marcus said his goodbyes, as the battle claimed another casualty. The woman ushered him out of the tent, he looked at the line of people escaping the battle. The children crying for their parents, mothers sobbing for missing fathers and sons. He was moving before he could think, his hand ready to draw his blade he ran for the front line.
He was not prepared for the gore and the cries of men that he encountered, Martellus had been under siege from the north, violent raiders who were strong then two men and tore through horses like wolves. They could take spears and arrows and never fall, roaring like bears before felling their attackers. He could see them, charging the lines of knights and soldiers, their battle cries strong and fierce. He almost cried when his legs would not move, his hand on his drawn sword and his legs so wobbly that he could barely stand.
That’s when he first met Martellus, the king was just the lord commander at the time, but was already in line for the throne due to his arrangement at the behest of the King to the Princess. He strode his horse beside Leyton and looked down at the boy.
“Fearsome beast aren’t they? But don’t worry I have a plan, these will not last the night.”
At that moment the forest exploded with fire, screams and the sound of war horns filled the air as the knights charged.
“Come, boy, lest they are no spoils for us”
Leyton charged forward, leaving his boyhood, his mentor, and everything he knew behind him. From that point on he trained to be a royal guard, the entire time Martellus unaware of the effect he had on the man that boy became.
The blacksmith sat the reworked blade on the table in front of Leyton snapping him out of his stupor. He paid the man and headed toward the barracks. He was to meet a distasteful fellow, the king's tax collector. He normally hated to interact with the leeches that seemed to cling to the royalty and had only taken this charge due to some recent complaints from the common folk. Some of the peasantry had approached him and told him horrific tales of the king’s men terrorizing the outlying villages. He had dismissed them, they were peasants, but he had once been a poor boy and their pleas had buried inside his mind like a worm through an apple. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be missing something, and if anything would bring dishonor on his king he would deal with it. He had petitioned the Knight Commander to allow him to act as escort to the tax collector. Something told him if there was a problem money would be a quick way to find out what it was.
The man was waiting for him, a heavy-set man with almost no hair and the smell of wine radiating from him. Leyton had seen men like him before, no actual talent other than running their tongue up the ass of every wealthy landowner around. He obviously had a taste for the finer things, his robes were laden with golden tassels and toggles, even his wine smelt expensive, it was a shame he couldn’t hold his drink any further than his cup.
“Sir Leyton is that you, come boy let’s get on with it, we have many stops today and I only have a few bottles of wine left!”
Leyton sighed as he settled into his saddle.
“Aye it’s me, shall we go? I understand you have a few bodyguards we are to meet at the gates?”
“Yes, yes, those expensive toy soldiers, they are sanctioned by the king, but I HAVE TO PAY THEIR SALARIES! The audacity of it is appalling, the king has more than his fair share of coffers, he chuckled, I collected most of them.”
Leyton almost slapped the man there and then, already he could see this man had no character and had resigned himself to the mediocrity of his existence beguiled by the belief that he was important. They rode out, Leyton leading their way past the guards at the gates, stopping to meet the motley crew that made up the coin collector’s bodyguards. The two rode on sickly looking horses that were poorly groomed a fine match for their owners. Jim the thinner of the two looked as if he was missing half the teeth in his head. Simon had a face only a blind nun could love, the half of beard he sported on the right side of his face didn’t help either. Leyton wondered if it was something new and fashionable that he was unaware of or if his razor had broken mid-shave, given the shape of their gear that wouldn’t be surprising. They displayed their weapons without any concern for their upkeep. Their swords rusted, and their bowstrings flayed, Leyton knew these men were not the kind that the King should sponsor. Any man who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with his tools or himself was surely more interested in other than honorable things.
The man with half a beard, spoke first, throwing a dirty hand in the hair to hail the two as they approached.
“Hey, boss, who’s the choir boy?”
“I am Sir Leyton of the Royal Guard, you will remain respectful and preferably silent for the rest of our ride. Is that understood?”
The tax collector and the other man snickered and followed Leyton as Simon grumbled and found his place at the back of the group. The ride was long and Leyton escorted them through their route, stopping at every village, hamlet, and farm to collect the taxes. Some begged for more time, some simply cried as they handed over the coins, some offered their wives and daughters for a reprieve. He wondered if the ones who offered their loved ones had been taken up when he wasn’t there if so the rage that was building with every stop was going to find an outlet soon.
They stopped for a rest at a stream nearby the last village on the route. A gentle flow of water surrounded by large oaks and complete with a layer of soft grass to rest in. Leyton took the horses to the stream and waded them out into the water. The water was fresh and cool, he reached down and cupped his hands, taking a drink and letting the rest fall back. He felt bad for the horses, it was a grueling ride and the condition of the pairs horses was appalling. As the horses lowered their heads and the silt settled back, he could hear the bodyguards laughing and talking with the tax collector, they tried to whisper but the tax collectors wine had loosened their tongues.
“Hey, this is that one with the girl isn’t it? She lopped off half of Simon’s beard last time! I don’t think it was an improvement but not much could help that face.”
“Fuck you, Jim, you overfilled chamber pot”
The tax collectors greasy voice came next.
“Boys, Boys, we will get her, the King, his greatness, sent his knight in shining armor to protect us. Mr. Do it Right over there will gut her if she tries something.
Leyton found his hand clenched around the pommel of his sword, he was not some hired sword who was ready to cut down some soft woman, even if she had bested these fools that don’t mean she had any real ability. He rode his horse out of the creek, right past his three traveling companions.
“Get on your horses, I want to finish this and relieve myself of your presence.”
Simon spoke up.
“Oh boys, look at this, the knight done got his knickers in a knot.”
Before Jim could speak up, Simon was on his ass in the mud, Leyton's blow had come fast, catching him off guard and lifting him out of his saddle. Leyton used the pommel of his sword, Simon was a buffoon, but he hadn’t done anything bad enough to earn the other end, yet.
“Boy, know you're better, disrespect me again and I will make sure you spend a night in the cells. Consider this your last assignment, I will have your sponsorship revoked after this.”
Not giving them a chance to respond he rode on, a short time after he heard the sound of them catching up with him. They rode a short while longer before coming upon the village, Leyton didn’t need to get any closer to see that there was a problem. The town was out, everyone it seemed was in the town square waiting for them. He didn’t slow down, there wasn’t going to be any violence from either side while he was here. He rode his charger to the front of the mob and was joined by the money changer and the goons. Raising his hand in a peaceful gesture, he spoke clearly and calmly.
“I am Sir Leyton of the Royal Guard and representative of the King, what is the problem here?”
Leyton, relaxed outside the blacksmiths forge, the heat rolling out of the building stifling even as fall set in. His face was creased with worry about the day, not for the blacksmith's charge to refinish his sword, but what this mission meant to him and his oath. Leyton was a knight in service to the King of Martellus, Heinrich VII. He had trained from the age 6, his family stripped from him by the plague, luckily, he was found by his mentor Sir Marcus the hedge knight. Sir Marcus trained him, taught him the hedge knights code. Defend the weak, stand for what is right, never take up arms for an unworthy cause. Around Leyton’s 16th birthday his Mentor was called to battle, the King was facing a great invasion and need all knights of the realm to answer the call. Leyton begged to come along, to prove that his training had not been for naught, but Marcus refused him and placed him in the charge of an old friend who had run an Inn that Marcus frequented. She tried to keep him busy, daily chores and an early bedtime. But as a boy he was glory hungry and ready to fight One night he sneaked through the inn and into the stables, he ran away, taking a horse and rode to the battlegrounds. The ride took most of the night and day, passing weary travelers and injured soldiers from the front, he started to be afraid that he had made the wrong decision. As he was about to turn for the inn, he passed a tent with a familiar horse tied outside of it. Marcus’s horse nuzzled him as he approached, a familiar scent in the hellscape of the front lines. Leyton, ducked his head as he entered the tent, he covered his mouth, the smell of blood and raw meat threatened to choke him. A woman was bent over his mentor, blood-soaked linens were thrown to one side, a bloody bowl of water beside her. She noticed him as he approached, she turned her dirty face streaked by tears.
“Boy, what are you doing here?”
Leyton struggled to speak, his words didn’t want to come, and a soft whimper escaped his lips. Marcus spoke up, his voice strained and hoarse.
“Leyton, what in the hell are you doing here? Why would you follow me, I left you where you would be safe?”
“I’m sorry sir, I couldn’t stay there while you fought, I can wield my sword as well as most and I am able-bodied, I should have been beside you."
He moved to the woman’s side, anything that he could have said more was choked off from the sight of his mentor. He had been caught by a rider’s lance, the shaft broke off in his chest, bloodied and bruised his chest was a mixture of dark purple and sickly yellow bruises. Blood oozed thick and black from his wound. Looking toward the woman, his eyes pleaded for hope. He found none in return.
“Leyton, listen, go home. This battle is almost done, don’t sully yourself with this mess. Return to the Inn and enjoy your life, find a good woman and die old and next to a warm hearth.
Marcus groaned as Leyton hugged his neck, patting the back of the boy’s head Marcus said his goodbyes, as the battle claimed another casualty. The woman ushered him out of the tent, he looked at the line of people escaping the battle. The children crying for their parents, mothers sobbing for missing fathers and sons. He was moving before he could think, his hand ready to draw his blade he ran for the front line.
He was not prepared for the gore and the cries of men that he encountered, Martellus had been under siege from the north, violent raiders who were strong then two men and tore through horses like wolves. They could take spears and arrows and never fall, roaring like bears before felling their attackers. He could see them, charging the lines of knights and soldiers, their battle cries strong and fierce. He almost cried when his legs would not move, his hand on his drawn sword and his legs so wobbly that he could barely stand.
That’s when he first met Martellus, the king was just the lord commander at the time, but was already in line for the throne due to his arrangement at the behest of the King to the Princess. He strode his horse beside Leyton and looked down at the boy.
“Fearsome beast aren’t they? But don’t worry I have a plan, these will not last the night.”
At that moment the forest exploded with fire, screams and the sound of war horns filled the air as the knights charged.
“Come, boy, lest they are no spoils for us”
Leyton charged forward, leaving his boyhood, his mentor, and everything he knew behind him. From that point on he trained to be a royal guard, the entire time Martellus unaware of the effect he had on the man that boy became.
The blacksmith sat the reworked blade on the table in front of Leyton snapping him out of his stupor. He paid the man and headed toward the barracks. He was to meet a distasteful fellow, the king's tax collector. He normally hated to interact with the leeches that seemed to cling to the royalty and had only taken this charge due to some recent complaints from the common folk. Some of the peasantry had approached him and told him horrific tales of the king’s men terrorizing the outlying villages. He had dismissed them, they were peasants, but he had once been a poor boy and their pleas had buried inside his mind like a worm through an apple. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be missing something, and if anything would bring dishonor on his king he would deal with it. He had petitioned the Knight Commander to allow him to act as escort to the tax collector. Something told him if there was a problem money would be a quick way to find out what it was.
The man was waiting for him, a heavy-set man with almost no hair and the smell of wine radiating from him. Leyton had seen men like him before, no actual talent other than running their tongue up the ass of every wealthy landowner around. He obviously had a taste for the finer things, his robes were laden with golden tassels and toggles, even his wine smelt expensive, it was a shame he couldn’t hold his drink any further than his cup.
“Sir Leyton is that you, come boy let’s get on with it, we have many stops today and I only have a few bottles of wine left!”
Leyton sighed as he settled into his saddle.
“Aye it’s me, shall we go? I understand you have a few bodyguards we are to meet at the gates?”
“Yes, yes, those expensive toy soldiers, they are sanctioned by the king, but I HAVE TO PAY THEIR SALARIES! The audacity of it is appalling, the king has more than his fair share of coffers, he chuckled, I collected most of them.”
Leyton almost slapped the man there and then, already he could see this man had no character and had resigned himself to the mediocrity of his existence beguiled by the belief that he was important. They rode out, Leyton leading their way past the guards at the gates, stopping to meet the motley crew that made up the coin collector’s bodyguards. The two rode on sickly looking horses that were poorly groomed a fine match for their owners. Jim the thinner of the two looked as if he was missing half the teeth in his head. Simon had a face only a blind nun could love, the half of beard he sported on the right side of his face didn’t help either. Leyton wondered if it was something new and fashionable that he was unaware of or if his razor had broken mid-shave, given the shape of their gear that wouldn’t be surprising. They displayed their weapons without any concern for their upkeep. Their swords rusted, and their bowstrings flayed, Leyton knew these men were not the kind that the King should sponsor. Any man who couldn’t be bothered to keep up with his tools or himself was surely more interested in other than honorable things.
The man with half a beard, spoke first, throwing a dirty hand in the hair to hail the two as they approached.
“Hey, boss, who’s the choir boy?”
“I am Sir Leyton of the Royal Guard, you will remain respectful and preferably silent for the rest of our ride. Is that understood?”
The tax collector and the other man snickered and followed Leyton as Simon grumbled and found his place at the back of the group. The ride was long and Leyton escorted them through their route, stopping at every village, hamlet, and farm to collect the taxes. Some begged for more time, some simply cried as they handed over the coins, some offered their wives and daughters for a reprieve. He wondered if the ones who offered their loved ones had been taken up when he wasn’t there if so the rage that was building with every stop was going to find an outlet soon.
They stopped for a rest at a stream nearby the last village on the route. A gentle flow of water surrounded by large oaks and complete with a layer of soft grass to rest in. Leyton took the horses to the stream and waded them out into the water. The water was fresh and cool, he reached down and cupped his hands, taking a drink and letting the rest fall back. He felt bad for the horses, it was a grueling ride and the condition of the pairs horses was appalling. As the horses lowered their heads and the silt settled back, he could hear the bodyguards laughing and talking with the tax collector, they tried to whisper but the tax collectors wine had loosened their tongues.
“Hey, this is that one with the girl isn’t it? She lopped off half of Simon’s beard last time! I don’t think it was an improvement but not much could help that face.”
“Fuck you, Jim, you overfilled chamber pot”
The tax collectors greasy voice came next.
“Boys, Boys, we will get her, the King, his greatness, sent his knight in shining armor to protect us. Mr. Do it Right over there will gut her if she tries something.
Leyton found his hand clenched around the pommel of his sword, he was not some hired sword who was ready to cut down some soft woman, even if she had bested these fools that don’t mean she had any real ability. He rode his horse out of the creek, right past his three traveling companions.
“Get on your horses, I want to finish this and relieve myself of your presence.”
Simon spoke up.
“Oh boys, look at this, the knight done got his knickers in a knot.”
Before Jim could speak up, Simon was on his ass in the mud, Leyton's blow had come fast, catching him off guard and lifting him out of his saddle. Leyton used the pommel of his sword, Simon was a buffoon, but he hadn’t done anything bad enough to earn the other end, yet.
“Boy, know you're better, disrespect me again and I will make sure you spend a night in the cells. Consider this your last assignment, I will have your sponsorship revoked after this.”
Not giving them a chance to respond he rode on, a short time after he heard the sound of them catching up with him. They rode a short while longer before coming upon the village, Leyton didn’t need to get any closer to see that there was a problem. The town was out, everyone it seemed was in the town square waiting for them. He didn’t slow down, there wasn’t going to be any violence from either side while he was here. He rode his charger to the front of the mob and was joined by the money changer and the goons. Raising his hand in a peaceful gesture, he spoke clearly and calmly.
“I am Sir Leyton of the Royal Guard and representative of the King, what is the problem here?”
Last edited: