The grind of stone on iron. A mantra known to all true warriors. It sings of patience, discipline, and truth in a kind of harmony. The world knows of this song, yet it refuses to listen. Kings war against themselves for blood soaked earth. The pride they chose is meaningless against what the mantra was written for.
The knight had trained since he could walk. Every day since he could write his name, ten perfect strikes with a blade or it would be twenty the next day. His life was to be wielded by his code and king. Armed with only his mind and a bit of steel against men under different banners, the horrors of the world, and the endless dark.
Upon his sixteenth year, he had gained the title of defender of the realm by saving the king from an assassination. Though he now bore a scar meant for his king, he asked only for a chance to prove himself further. Not a noble, but a man who believed in what he could do if given the chance. The king accepted, and a trial was held to test his mind, body, and faith.
A year later, the knight was given his official title, a piece of land to call his own, armor, and a sword fit for his duty. On that day, the life of this knight began, and three years later, it was all taken away.
With a sudden snap, the knight shut his journal. “The sun rises, and I must continue.” Closing his pack and stamping out the fire, he continues on. A now nameless knight of no honor. His mission was clear to only him; find the cause of this worlds distortion and slay it. His king and countrymen thought he was mad. The notion that something could have escaped the sight of the gods for so long was paramount to heresy in everyone’s mind but his. If the gods were so powerful, then why did they flee this world and leave us here?
The kings own father knew of the creature, fought her and paid with his life. So easily do we forget the struggles of our ancestors. That mere words could convey the pain and sacrifice they endured just so we could stand in the sun without fear. The knight knew that if such a beast were to be left to their own accords that it could damn all who called Vona home.