Knighted - [Rp Retelling]

[ChainedDragons 1374]

[[Please no meta - the rp that happened was between players present - enjoyed]]

Spoiler

 

Knighted

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“Are du well enough to kneel?”

 

Hart blinks from where he sat. He had come down to the medical bay with Sir Thomas to get advice for treatment on his missing hand. Artair was usually busy so seeing here was a bit of a surprise.

 

“Kneel? Um.. sure.”

 

The 17 year old obeyed the order, sliding off the bed and onto one knee. He kept his head bowed before Sir Artair, his mentor Sir Thomas sitting off to the side.

 

Sir Artair draws the mori-silver blade from his hip, rolling his shoulders. The knight commander stands before the squire, lifting the blade near Hart’s face, resting it on his shoulder. 

 

For a split second the nordling wondered if he had displeased the knight commander that poorly. What had he done? Did Artair find out about his secret night escapades of stealing away into the holy states for resource runs?

 

“Ser?” He asks warily.

 

“Hart Sturm Stafyr!” Artair’s voice boomed in the lower levels of the rather quiet clinic. “Do du swear to follow the four chivalries?”

 

Hart’s face runs hot. He hadn’t finished his knightly trials yet - there was no way- was this happening?
 

“Yes I swear.”

 

“Und do du swear to uphold der seven mercies?”

 

“Yes I swear.” Hart’s eyes flick over to Sir Thomas, wondering if his mentor was in on this.

 

The man smiles, giving Hart a subtle thumbs up.

 

“Then by mein hand,” Artair places the mori silver forged blade on Hart’s right shoulder. “Und in der name of Therin,” The blade is shifted to Hart’s opposite shoulder. “For ihr service to der Commonwealth in times of war, ich name du Sir Hart the Mountain.”

 

Hart raises his head, looking up at Artair with a sense of pride. 

 

Ten years of growth within Petra.

 

Five years training and pushing through the difficulties of squire-hood.

 

The last few years of war, as strenuous as they were, he mustered through - even if he wasn’t unscathed. 

 

The mountain.

 

Fitting. 

 

Life was his mountain to conquer. 

 

He would be the mountain that enemies of his people would have to conquer first before laying ill will on those of Petra. 

 

“Sir Hart ‘The Mountain’ Sturm Stafyr, rise now as ein knight of der Laurel.”

 

Hart pulls himself to his feet, placing a left hand over his chest. He would serve as long as God gave him breath.

 

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Info on the Petrine Knights Laurel