“Stiel,” greeted the knight.

He was clad in chainmail and a brown hauberk, casually leaning on his shield, bearing the mark of the bear. Stiel had heard of him, he was his senior by some ten years or so, and of the Stemmel family. A sturdy man, square-faced, calm, and a renowned warrior. His black horse were tethered to a tree a few steps from the bridge.

“I saw your mount, Stiel,” said the knight, “and I reckon it is most honorable for both of us if we settle this matter on foot.” The knight smiled.

Stiel nodded, slightly dumbfounded, and took a step out on the bridge. He was shaking slightly, swallowed hard, and tried to calm his breathing. This was it, his third Stand within reach.

“Knight-in-Waiting! I am Karsten of Stemmel, the Bearslayer Knight, and I challenge your Stand. Do you accept?”

“I accept your challenge, Sir Karsten,” answered Stiel in a firm voice. “Get ready!”

Karsten nodded, put on his helmet with a plume of white eagle feathers, and strapped on his shield.

They met in the middle of the bridge in an epic clash, Karsten’s sword clanging hard on Stiel’s blank shield, forcing the Knight-in-Waiting back a step by sheer ferocity. Stiel retreated another step, avoiding the second swipe from the knight, and then countered with a thrust. It didn’t bother the challenger much, though – he easily swiped it wide, and slammed his shield hard into Stiel, who had to stumble backwards to avoid the following sword slash.

Stiel crouched low and managed to halt Karsten’s advance with an upward slash of his sword, almost nicking the challenger’s sword arm. His balance regained, the two warriors cautiously dealt and parried blows, trying to get a feel for one another. Normally, this wouldn’t bother Stiel much, in fact, he’d won several battles at the academy by tiring his opponent, but his left arm was numb, his parries more and more sluggish, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to meet the powerful strokes of Karsten’s sword with the shield. It was getting very heavy.

Something had to be done.

The Knight-in-Waiting retreated a step, and managed to wriggle out of the shield strap while doing so. Karsten cautiously followed, first with a careful thrust, but then, as Stiel took another step backwards, he went into a series of chops and slashes. Stiel backed out of the way as much as he could, and met the rest of the attacks with his blade, almost letting one through, and another nicked his shoulder but was taken care of by his own chainmail. The rings dug into his skin, no doubt bruising him.

Karsten took a step back. “Tiring already, Knight-in-Waiting?” he asked. “I am disappointed. I had expected better of you.”

The breather was what Stiel needed. With a roar, he threw the shield at the challenger, who scrambled to get his own shield up to glance it out of his face, off the bridge. Stiel didn’t wait for it to clash into the ravine floor, he stormed his challenger, hacking away with a two-handed grip, forcing Karsten to parry awkwardly with his sword.

The challenger stumbled backwards, got his shield up, but battle frenzy had reached the green-haired warrior now. The sheer power of his downward chops made dents, then cracks, in the shield, finally almost breaking through.

Karsten thrust his sword out in panic, trying to get some room for better footing so that he could meet the furious attacks from the Knight-in-Waiting. He knew he had the upper hand, still armed with both shield and sword, but he also knew that Stiel didn’t want him to be able to make use of the situation.

The thrust cut open Stiel’s right thigh, slashed his side and drew blood, forcing the Knight-in-Waiting to take half a step backwards to avoid further damage.

Karsten wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip. He stormed up, shield in position, getting ready to finish this fight once and for all.

He met Stiel’s foot dead on in the shield, with such a power that he fell to his back, barely getting his shield up to meet another furious chop from the Knight-in-Waiting. The power of the stroke, the heavy impact, slammed the shield’s edge hard into his forehead, opening a gash. He’d have that scar until his dying days, he thought, but he wasn’t sure if that would be an issue, they might not be far off.

“Yield!” bellowed Stiel, and stepped on the challenger’s sword arm, forcing him to drop the sword.

“No!” roared Karsten, and tried to push Stiel to the side with his shield.

The Knight-in-Waiting anticipated this, and casually gripped the shield and tore it out wide, pointing his sword tip to the challenger’s throat.

“Yield,” said the green-haired warrior.

For a moment everything was still.

“I yield,” said Karsten of Stemmel in a weak voice. “I yield, Sir Knight.”

* * *

Stiel looked back at the Windy Bridge from the horseback. He sat straight and proud, his shield freshly painted green, hung by the saddle nob. Further ahead rode Karsten and Falt, who’d decided to leave Qaiel behind and join the two knights for now. “You’ll need someone to look after you, Sir Stiel, or at least your horse if you think you can manage yourself,” he’d said to Stiel, and wouldn’t discuss the matter any further. Stiel didn’t mind, Falt had proven to be a good friend during his Ceremonial Stand.

The Windy Bridge looked almost forlorn in the afternoon sun. Stiel didn’t think he’d see it again.

But he had held it, he had done it. Stiel of the Uthrom highlands had completed his Ceremonial Stand. The green-haired warrior had become the Green Knight.

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance
• The Green Knight I: A Cold Night
• The Green Knight II: The Wise-Woman Calling

Now he sits with his back to a tree, a short distance from the cave, looking at the dark entrance. The cool evening air feels ever so sweet after the suffocating moist and terrible smells of Spikerock Chasm. He keeps his sword at hand, the shield and helmet lays thrown by his side, and he clutches the book intently. His shoulder aches from the hit, and the left arm feels numb.

For a while, he just watches how his panting turns to soft breathing, clearly visualized by his warm breath in the cool evening air. The sun has set, not long ago it seems, and the stars and the moon enlighten the world.

Stiel is at peace, fear flees his body, the adrenaline runs off. Calm settles in.

And then a chill creeps up his spine, makes him sit up straight, wide-eyed, suddenly cold.

He looks at the book, a slightly scorched thing with a cover made of skin. There is no text on the cover. He wants to open it, he really wants to open it. Suddenly the world around him is dark, the air he breathes is like liquid silver, his skin feels like ice, and the only warmth comes from within those covers.

Stiel opens the book, releasing a musty smell, a warmth, and all fears go away. Something powerful lingers just beyond his touch, everything looks so sharp and crisp, his muscles tense with an exhilarating feeling, he feels hungry and satiated, aroused and pleased. He feels terrifying, huge, and dangerous.

Stiel has never felt so alive, so present, so above them all.

He slams the book shut with a scream.

* * *

Blinks.

What happened? It is dark, cold, in the middle of the night. The Knight-in-Waiting shudders, disoriented and scared. He sees himself sitting against the tree, quite beyond himself. It scares him.

All is quiet. Not a noise in the night.

Stiel clutches the book and closes his eyes again.

* * *

Blinks.

Stiel wakes up just before dawn.

“You found it,” says the old woman, standing bent over him, heavily clad in a moldy robe. She stares intently on the book, her mouth half open. Stiel notices some drool in the corner of her mouth, the reek of urine and filth around her reminds him of the cave. “Give me,” she says with a shivering voice.

Stiel swallows hard, and looks down at the book he’s clutching to his chest. His arms and hands feel as if locked in iron. Carefully, he unclenches his fists, forcing himself to loosen the grip. It is almost painful.

He hands the book over. The woman snatches it, holds it tight to her chest and chuckles.

“Opened it, did we?” she asks, almost amused, but with a hint of danger in her voice. And something else, something alert and maddening.

“I don’t know,” whispers Stiel. He feels worn out, sitting there against the tree. There is no strength left in him, he can’t bring himself to stand. Not yet.

“Heh! I see,” cackles the woman. “Get back to your Ceremonial Stand, dear Knight-in-Waiting. I have granted your wish.”

Stiel stares at her. “What?”

“A challenger awaits,” she says, and leaves him there.

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance
• The Green Knight I: A Cold Night
• The Green Knight II: The Wise-Woman Calling

Suddenly, something moved in front of him, just outside of the torch light, moving deeper into the tunnel. A few powerful strides after whatever it was later, and Stiel sorely missed the helmet, banging his head into the ceiling.

Not much to do other than to take it easy, and try to clear the stars dancing in front of his eyes. At least there was no blood, his scalp was intact.

Stiel continued down the tunnel, which now sloped a lot. The air was still fresh, but getting a bit moist. He could hear drops echo in front of him, and soon found himself in a cavern with a small underground lake. Here he can stand tall, the cavern is roomy. The faint dripping echo filled the cavern, pleasantly reminding him that he was out of the cramped tunnel.

A light splash alerts him, he takes a step from the small lake.

Another one. They are coming from the other side, but Stiel is reluctant to step into the water. Who knows what dwells in it, or how deep it is for that matter. He trails the wall to his right, and finds a way around it, but there is no sign of anything or anybody, and no more splashes are heard.

Another tunnel entrance. Stiel examines it, trailing its opening, which he’ll have to crouch to enter, with the torch.

Then he hears something, from inside the tunnel, some gravel rustling, and a swift swiveling sound.

“What the…” he whispers to himself, and then he understand, and throws himself to the side, just before the rock exits the tunnel entrance and hits the wall on the opposite side of the lake with a cracking sound.

A small sling, he notes to himself, and listens intently. Someone is scuttling away, further down the tunnel. Now he misses both his shield and helmet, although the former would’ve been too bulky to use in the cramped tunnel, and the latter would’ve made it even harder for him to see anything. It must’ve been a really small sling to work in this tunnel.

Stiel enters it cautiously, crouching low and moving as silently as he can. He can hear hoarse voices further down the tunnel, but he can’t make out the words.

Then he sees a light, an eerie glow. The closer he gets, the brighter it becomes, but Stiel is reluctant to turn out his torch, or even leave it. What if his attackers turn out the light? They obviously function better in the dark than he does, and knows the area. What did she say, the old woman? They’ve been too long in the dark, or something like that. Was this what she meant?

The moment later he finds the explanation to the light, when he almost steps on a small little mushroom bright with a faint blue glow, not very strong at all, but obviously just a small stalk with a minimal cap. There must be more of these glowing mushrooms, or larger ones perhaps, down the tunnel.

Stiel peers down, and makes the decision. He backtracks a few steps, and then pins his torch between a couple of loose rocks, making as little noise as possible. Let’s see if he can surprise these cave bandits…

Crouching really low, sword in hand, Stiel moves towards the light, and soon makes out a small cave up front, almost fully illuminated by these small mushrooms, around a bend. It is still a very dim and eerie glow, but it is enough for him to see.

Trinkets litter the cavern floor, along with musty piles of leaf and small twigs and branches, beds of sorts he reckons. A couple of spoons, a pan, some soiled cloths, a ceramic mug and a chamber pot full of small round rocks. The smell is anything but nice, but no excrement can be seen on the floor, which is somewhat puzzling since it was the first thing Stiel thought of.

There is movement inside, and hoarse whispers in tiny voices, but even though Stiel can hear that there are words, he can’t understand them, nor guess what language these bandits are speaking.

This must be it, the book must be here.

Stiel straightens as much as he can, and steps into the little cavern.

“Don’t move!” he says, and holds his sword at the ready.

The small spindly creatures do anything but that, all three of them. One is so startled he, she, or it, falls backwards and cowers behind a rock, hissing something in a weird voice. The other two, however, quickly gather what wits they may have, and throttles the intruder.

The Knight-in-Waiting doesn’t know what to make of these small creatures. They are human, sort of, much like children but with long knotty arms and legs, with grey-looking skin in the mushroom light. These weird humanoids have certainly been in the dark for too long, with big lidless eyes and huge irises filling their milky whites. Stiel find them repulsive, yet somehow he’s not without compassion for them.

“Stand back or I’ll kill you!” he warns, but the first one brings up a club made of some weird looking bone and swings it. Stiel easily deflects the blow, and just in time to meet the other one’s attack, wielding a frying pan. A deafening clang fills the cavern as Stiel meets the pan, which is quite big, with his sword.

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

Then a stone hits his left shoulder square on, making his arm go numb, and the green-haired warrior reassesses the situation.

He retreats into the cavern opening, drawing the bone club wielding little creature after him. A nasty smell joins him there, and he sees that his enemy has soiled himself, all the while grinning, or grimacing, Stiel can’t really tell in the dim light, and there is no way to know anyway. He deflects another blow, and slashes out, but the spindly thing just jumps back, leaving a trail of piss behind him.

Stiel retreats another step, bile threatening to enter his throat, tears filling his eyes. His left arm is waking up somewhat, but his shoulder is sore and swollen.

The swiveling sound alerts him, and Stiel manages to press himself to the wall, just to see one of those small rocks bounce harmlessly beside him. There is power in them at this short distance.

“I need to finish this now,” Stiel groans to himself, and charges the room.

The frying pan wielding creature is unlucky, just now preparing to enter the tunnel. Stiel plants his foot in his chest and tramples over him, grinding his teeth as he hears the creature slam the cavern floor, feels the breast bone collapse under his heavy boot, and hears the spine crack against the rock. No time to worry, to think about this, he reminds himself, and enters the warrior state that made him get through all those harsh years at the academy.

He slashes out against the club wielder, who scrambles backwards in terror, but this creature was never his intended victim. Stiel propels forward, and punches the third one, the one with the dangerous sling, right in its surprised face, sending it several feet up into the air in a spray of blood and teeth. The Knight-in-Waiting regains his balance by slowing his approach with his knee on the rock where the creature had been hiding, turns around in one fluent motion, and nearly cuts the head of the bone club wielding little monster thinking to exploit the situation.

Nearly being the key, because the little devil manages to duck below the sword, and then apparently decides it had had enough, and disappears into a crack in the wall, giggling or crying wildly, Stiel can’t tell.

All is still. The little thing Stiel punched is either dead or out cold, the adrenaline of battle pounds like drums in the green-haired warrior’s ears so he can’t tell if it is breathing or not, and he has no stomach to go and find out. A wet, heavy, nasty stink is starting to fill the room, coming from the first downed creature’s intestines. Stiel retches, staggers backwards, suddenly weak and with tears brimming his eyes. By chance he sees a book just beside the entrance to the small cavern. He scoops it up, hoping it is the one, and then stumbles back out in the tunnel, fleeing from the nauseating stench of the dead creature.

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance
• The Green Knight I: A Cold Night
• The Green Knight II: The Wise-Woman Calling

“Beware the wise-woman,” was Falt’s parting words. “She is a witch and not to be trusted.”

The farmer had volunteered to accompany him, but Stiel had refused. “This is my task, and my battle,” he’d said, “and besides, I travel faster on my own.”

The chain-mail chafed, made him sweat. It felt heavier than usual.

The trek was uneventful, going first across the plains, with the supposedly giant-flung rocks and boulders, through Stickle Fields, where the grass was sharp and Stiel’s heavy boots saved his feet from cuts and scrapes. He climbed the Stickle Slide, falling to his knees twice due to treacherous rocks and slides, with small thorny bushes piercing his skin, finding their way in-between the rings of his chain-mail. He was glad he went by foot. The small mishaps didn’t bother him, in fact, Stiel was glad to actually spring to action. Melancholy wasn’t far away, thoughts of failing the Ceremonial Stand, accepting his fate as a Moranian foot soldier, crowded his mind during the trek. Every thorn and cut he got on the way was a welcome reminder that everything wasn’t over just yet.

He almost believed it.

* * *

The wise-woman’s hut was located in a copse of trees. Stiel ventured up the last slope cautiously, listening to the wind ruffling the trees. It was just past noon, and something didn’t feel right.

The Knight-in-Waiting saw tracks in the dirt, shuffling tracks all around actually. No sign of a struggle though, and there was a tiny trail of smoke coming from the hut in the shade of trees. The smoke bent and twirled as it found its way through the leaf-work, and into the wind, where it dissolved after a brief struggle.

“Enter, Knight!” croaked an old woman’s voice from inside the hut.

Stiel pushed the cloth covering the doorway aside and entered the gloomy hut. A thousand fragrances assaulted his mind, and a dampness at that. The hut was smoky, littered with books and kettles, dried spices and animals incased in bowls filled with liquid. There wasn’t a spot of the walls not covered by some trinket or dried fruit, branch, skin, twigs of some plant.

“Welcome,” croaked an old woman sitting by a small table. A mouse skittered across the floor, a spider creeping up her robed body. The hut felt infested with insects, bugs, parasites, and dirt.

“I am Stiel of the Uthrom highlands, Knight-in-Waiting,” said Stiel in a formal voice. “I have come to…”

“I know,” croaked the woman, and stood up with a snap of joints pained with old age. “I know why you have come and why you are here. Hush, fair knight.”

Stiel said nothing.

“I have been robbed,” said the woman slowly. “They stole a book. I want it back.”

“Who are they? And why did they steal a book?”

“Will you help me?” asked the woman, shuffling towards the Knight-in-Waiting. She barely reached his chest, and hadn’t even if her spine would have allowed her to stand straight, which it didn’t. The smell of sweat, blood and urine hit him then, hard and nauseating.

“I will,” said Stiel, and swallowed. “But you will have to tell me more.”

“Heh!” cackled the woman mirthlessly. “They stole my book. I want it back!”

“Who are they, lady?”

“Heh-heh! Lady indeed, lady I’m not, yet they stole it anyway. My book!” she cackled, tapped Stiel on his chest, sidestepped, and smiled a toothless smile. “They are the horrors of Spikerock, the robbers of the dark, the scum of Stickle Pass Beyond!”

Now we’re getting somewhere, thought Stiel. Finally, a task worthy of him, worthy a Knight-in-Waiting. A faint glimmer of hope of actually completing his Ceremonial Stand snuck up his spine, no matter how weird this woman may be, she is in distress, and robbed at that. “What more did they steal than this book?” he asked, almost containing his excitement of the prospects.

“Nothing!” the woman screamed shrilly. “Nothing that matters, nothing that matters!” she continued, calming down in an instant. “Get the book. They are hiding in Spikerock Schasm, just north of here.”

Stiel nodded. “I know where it is. Or about at least.”

The old woman half turned away, wrung her hands, and then lifted her gaze, for the first time meeting the Knight-in-Waiting’s eyes fully on. Stiel felt shaken by that look, warm and cold, aroused and sick all at once. The woman’s eyes were cloudy, the pupils floating with the yellowish whites. Dried blood and broken blood vessels warred with the eyelids, none able to subdue the unwavering powerful gaze.

“Find the book, and I will grant you your wish, as a reward. You will be a knight, Stiel of the Uthrom highlands”, she whispered in a voice not at all croaking and old. “Find the book, forget the rest, bring it to me, and I will make it happen.”

Stiel swallowed hard, squared his shoulders. “I will. How will I know it?”

“You will, it is the only book there,” the woman said, again with the croaking old voice. “Don’t open it! Don’t ever open the book! Best leave it if you cannot abhor to open it, fair knight. Do not open it!”

Stiel nodded. “Understood. I’ll go now,” he said and left the hut, glad to be out in the fresh air. Suddenly he felt how suffocating it had been in there. For some reason, he felt dirty and shaken, his knees suddenly weak. The green-haired Knight-in-Waiting shook it off with an effort, extending his stride away, finding his strength yet again.

“One more thing,” said the old woman, appearing in the doorway. Stiel turned to face her, standing by the edge of the copse of trees.

“Beware of the abominations of Spikerock Chasm,” she croaks in a voice that defies the fresh air, and almost doesn’t carry, barely high enough for Stiel to make out.

“They have been in the dark for too long.”

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight I: A Cold Night
• The Green Knight II: The Wise-Woman Calling

“The old wise-woman asked for you”, said Falt that evening.

“Oh?”

Stiel had heard about the wise-woman before, an old crone living in Stickle Pass not too far from the Windy Bridge. It was what the villagers called the wilderness, and that made them think of her as weird. The old woman had their respect, however, because of her potions, salves, and the help she offered women bearing children, or wanting to. She was as close to a midwife as anyone could remember Qaiel having, she just didn’t live there. The green-haired young man had never heard her name spoken.

“Yes”, continued Falt, “she did.”

“Well, what did she want?” Falt had a habit to not move on with things he deemed important, unless you prodded him for more information. Stiel sometimes found this little treat charming, to use one of his mothers words, but at other times – like this – it annoyed him a lot. He had to keep the urgency and irritation from his voice, a feat that had gotten harder the further away the completion of his Stand seemed to be.

“You, and your help. She asked if anyone would see you soon, but never waited for an answer. She had use of noble assistance, she said, whatever that means”, Falt said, poking the fire.

“Noble assistance?”

“Aye.”

“I see. When?”

“Right away I guess”, the farmer said, paused, and then continued, as if he’d debated with himself before going on. “It was almost as she looked at me and knew I was coming up here today.”

They sat quiet for a while, lost in thoughts. The moon was starting to break through the twilight, turning the cold evening into an even colder night.

“Will you see her?” Falt finally asked.

“Yes”, Stiel said. This could be his chance, a noble deed for his Stand. Besides, an old woman needing help – noble assistance even, whatever she meant by that – going to her aid was the honorable thing to do.

Stiel meant to be a honorable knight, no matter what.

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance
• The Green Knight I: A Cold Night

However, given the amount of e-mail I’m getting (not overwhelming, just enough for me to consider as a “problem”, for lack of better word), there is some interest as to what I’m up to, so I figured I’d try and do monthly status reports for a while, see how it fits. I might also work as a spur for me, something I’ve tried before with the OrnTales.com project, now a part of this very site.

So this is the first status report, tackling July 2008, even though there are a few days left. I doubt everything will change in that time, but if it does, I’ll let you know for sure.

I’m keeping client work out of this, being design gigs and freelance writing. While those are projects too, at times, they are not my projects per se, and this is not the place to talk about them.

The tdhedengren network

As you can see at the top of the page, the tdhedengren network consists of my blog, the interview blog BloggerTalks, and Living Hyboria, being a blog dedicated to the MMORPG Age of Conan: Hyborian Adventures. Truth be told, only my blog and BloggerTalks are up and running for real, while Living Hyboria is trudging along while waiting for me to roll out a design and organize it a bit. There is also a fourth site involved, being Live Arcade Review which is dedicated to reviewing Xbox Live Arcade (ie. downloadable) games. This one’s been around for some time, but have been on hold until now. Or rather, that was the plan, but my Xbox 360 got RROD’d, so the relaunch will have to wait a bit longer.

BloggerTalks is doing great, although I’m taking a bit easy with the interviews over the summer. The frequency at least, because the likes of Natali Del Conte and Duncan Riley are no small fish. I’m happy with it, it keeps pushing out great content, if I may say so myself, and that was the goal.

The very site you’re reading, tdhedengren.com, is working out as well. There is still work to be done, especially with the pretty important portfolio, and I’m hoping to get that up to date in a few weeks time.

My Fiction Writing

While the blog projects are easy enough to talk about, my fiction is perhaps not. I have put it all here, under one roof, as a part of the relaunch of this site, but also to give myself some more room. July has not been a month full of writing for me, however, although I have polished my plans for Orn, got some new ideas that might or might not end up as one or several short stories in the autumn, and so on. I did get the first part of The Green Knight short story published, that’s something at least. Expect more in this story on a weekly basis in August, probably on Fridays or Saturdays, I haven’t completely decided on the schedule yet. The story is more or less done, however, so I’ll be wrapping it up in the coming week so that I can focus on other things.

Other Projects

I have some Swedish projects running, such as the former blog network turned super-group-blog Pakten, but they are all laying low over the summer months, not much to mention there.

There is a slightly larger project as well, but as I haven’t announced it at all yet I’ll just keep quiet. It’s been in the works since the last version of tdhedengren.com, and I expect to unveil it late August or in September, depending on things yet to be determined. Needless to say, I’m excited about it.

That’s July 2008 for you. I hope the insight will help in some way, perhaps inspire your somewhat, or just cure your curiosity.

Possibly Related

• BloggerTalks Under New Management
• One Launch And One Relaunch This April
• The New BloggerTalks Logo
• Talking The Future Of BloggerTalks
• Consolidating My Fiction Writing

Stiel of Uthrom, the green-haired Knight-in-Waiting, hardly felt the cold. It was partly due to his heritage, the highlands were a harsh place to grow up in, but also because his mind was far away from the present. He sat on one of those rocks, said to be the scattered remains of the giants’ big mountain, gazing into the starry sky, not caring nor noticing that the fire had faded into glowing embers, biding their time or gasping for wonderful air to flare yet again.

The Knight-in-Waiting thought of his mother, of the Noble Brotherhood, and the stupid tradition of a people who really didn’t have the luxury of turning away a strong warrior. Stiel was honest with himself, he had excelled at the Academy, and should he only be able to prove himself in this, his Ceremonial Stand, he’d be on his way to greatness and glory. He didn’t doubt that.

The green-haired young man did, however, doubt that it would ever come to that. His resolve was there, but the despair of impeding failure crept into the back of his head, chilling his spine in a way that the cold wind never could. It was but half a moon left of his time at the Stand, and had he not proved himself by the time the full moon glared at him yet again, the Stand would be a failure, and his future as a knight would be at the mercy of the Noble Brotherhood’s council. He knew what they would say, knew that his chances of being permitted to join the Moranian knights were not even slim, they were non-existent.

His brush with the rogues of Qaiel counted as one Ceremonial Stand, one of three needed, but that was it. No knights passed through here, no one challenged him, and there was no one arriving to challenge either.

At this time, when things were as they were in the world, Stiel felt that it was a foolish old tradition. When he was younger he’d had another point of view, but with the great shadow in the west, the continents greatest force – the Empire – clearly amassing its armies for war yet again, Morania should be taking good care of its strong sword arms.

The Knight-in-Waiting didn’t doubt the rumors that war was on the kingdom’s doorstep, Morania being the last strong western nation of old not to fly the Imperial banner, surely a thorn in the eye for the all-powerful mysterious Emperor.

Neither did Stiel doubt that he would not fight in this impeding war, but he didn’t want to do it on foot, with the commoners. He wanted to lead, and he wanted to gain fame and glory with the Moranian knights, a legendary force on the battlefield, feared and powerful.

Stiel sighed. Half a moon left, and not a challenge in sight.

It would take another hour or two with his mind lost in the cold dark night before he would let his dreary contemplations go, and get his rest.

Possibly Related

• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance
• The Green Knight II: The Wise-Woman Calling

Like a minute ago, when the ambush had closed around him, three guards rushing out of the protection of curtains. Someone had talked, obviously, otherwise they hadn’t been ready for him.

Then again, they really hadn’t been ready. Before the first guard had reached him, he’d been mortally wounded by a thrown dagger, protruding from his throat, stuck in to the hilt, scarlet blood appearing black in the gloomy dark of the corridor outside his victim’s quarters.

The assassin had faced the other two with a dagger in one hand, the other behind his back. He had nimbly sidestepped the first sword thrust, and deflected the second to the ground with his dagger, forcing the tip to hit the rug on the floor. Flipping it up with his foot, the killer could stomp down on the blade with the protection of the thick skin and fur, snapping it with his foot.

That was when the first guard had managed to slash his side, the assassin’s sidestepping motion being a tad too late, too slow, too lazy.

He had taken his revenge on the swordless guard, who tried to stab the killer with his dagger. Obviously he wasn’t used to the combination, the attack was poorly executed, and the assassin’s hidden hand could easily twirl around, revealing his claw knuckle, slashing the guard in the face, and then driving the point home with his dagger in the enemy’s side, in the joint of the breast plate. The killer knew where to strike, how to do it effectively, and how to do it sure.

The last guard was on the retreat, realizing that the fight was lost. He was calling for help, but the assassin made the words die in his throat with another well-aimed thrown dagger.

He finished off the dying guard with a quick slash over the throat.

The killer wasn’t bothered by the gloomy light in the room he entered, facing the lord of the house. It was an old man, holding a thin sword with a two-handed grip, shaking a little. The assassin could see that he knew how to use it, muscles rarely forget something that has been honed with years and years of practice.

It didn’t matter, the killer moved with the speed of a Zaranthian panther, getting close and around the blade, firmly digging his knuckle-claws into the man’s unprotected chest. He met his victim’s eyes, respecting the old man’s calm. Not many could meet the yellow flare of his demon eyes without quivering, but this old warrior’s steely gaze accepted his defeat, his death, with grace.

The blood was already sticky on his daggers and knuckle-claws, and in his side, as he calmed and cooled down in the room. The mission, the contract, was completed. Now to collect the reward.

Ke’Malon Brizabrazni took a deep breath. He realized he had just entered the politics of the Empire, taking the stage in something that would echo throughout the world.

He didn’t care. He left the house in the noble district unseen, and unmoved by his actions.

Possibly Related

• Fallen – a poem about Orn
• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book
• The Green Knight IV: Spikerock Chasm
• The Green Knight III: Giving Noble Assistance

No more, soon. I’ll announce my plans in the near future, and perhaps use the Easter holiday free time to setup a temporary site, and move the OrnTales.com content there. It would be nice to start The Green Knight story on its intended place.

Again, thank you for your input, dear readers. I appreciate it!

Possibly Related

• Thinking Of Consolidating My Writing
• Launching OrnTales.com – fantasy fiction for free, by yours truly
• Getting back to writing fiction – for you
• The Green Knight VI: The Final Trial
• The Green Knight V: The Book

He had ridden out of Qaiel before dawn, after helping the woman with her wounds. She’d gotten away with a broken arm and some bruises – lucky, Stiel thought. They had found Falt in an old outhouse, tied up and dazed, but alive and fairly well. The farmer had cried out of joy, and vowed to come and visit the knight-in-waiting, bringing provisions, in a few days time. And of course he vouched for the green-haired man, telling the villagers – all woken up and gathered – what’s been happening.

Stiel’s name was cleared, justice served.

The first challenge of the Ceremonial Stand was over. It wasn’t a noble duel, or a jousting challenge from a knight, as would be ideal and the stories told, but still. The knight-in-waiting had fought for honor and justice, and for his ideals, which was good enough.

Two more to go.

Stiel came upon the Windy Bridge, feeling numb. He wasn’t sure if it was the cold morning winds and the rain in the air, or the blood spilled on his hands.

Washing it away just didn’t help. The red sun had told him that.

So ends Quest for Knighthood.
Stiel’s adventures will continue in The Green Knight, available early 2008!

Possibly Related

• Quest for Knighthood V: Retribution
• Quest for Knighthood IV: The Village of Qaiel
• Quest for Knighthood III: Scattered Rocks
• Quest for Knighthood II: The Stand
• Quest for Knighthood I: A Man With Green Hair