Post by Nicholas Miller on Mar 10, 2015 20:52:05 GMT -5
Sir. Nicholas Miller had woken a good hour before dawn itself. The time had come, he needed to make ready. The night before, he had a barber trim his hair and his beard. He had seen the smiths to ensure his arms and armour were sound and ready. He even bought a new gambeson from the Lockewood garrison. For this dawn would be heralded with blades. He was confident in his abilities but he knew this dawn may be his last for even the most skilled may fall to misfortune.
He slaked his thirst with water. He assuaged his hunger with but an apple, some bread and a little cheese, just enough to silence the night's hunger. He dressed quickly and he donned his armour without difficulty. The gambeson, with the jack chains that guarded his arms, followed by he mail shirt, then his brigandine. On his head went his open-faced sallet. Around his waist his belt from which he hung from a simple loop, foregoing a scabbard, his trusty falchion, this old companion through many years and several battle. And an older friend still joined it, his broad-bladed hunting knife which he'd carried since he had killed his first deer, so long ago. And finally, on his hands his archer's gloves, backed with steel.
He was ready.
Well, perhaps he was ready to face his challenger that morning, Prince Lucien, and to fight him to the bitter end if need be. But he was not ready for the ridiculous pageantry. Wooden tiered benches had been built, as had a covered gallery fitted with braziers to the most honoured guests would be spared the chill of the morning. Already spectators had arrived. Already servants were handing out refreshments and food. As he politely declined such diversions on his way to the part of the cobbled courtyard that was fenced off, the musicians caught sight of the common-born knight and began playing a solemn dirge. That bastard Lucien's idea, no doubt. However, he did not let it bother him.
Nor the fact that he was on time and his opponent was yet unseen.
Lucien Deveraux Jean-Luc Deveraux Mariette Deveraux Nicolette Deveraux @antoinettedeveraux Tristan Deschênes @pierredeveraux Salvatore Deliambre Carlotta Deliambre @lenadelacroix Reed Gardiner Annemarie Gardiner and whoever else care to watch the show!
He slaked his thirst with water. He assuaged his hunger with but an apple, some bread and a little cheese, just enough to silence the night's hunger. He dressed quickly and he donned his armour without difficulty. The gambeson, with the jack chains that guarded his arms, followed by he mail shirt, then his brigandine. On his head went his open-faced sallet. Around his waist his belt from which he hung from a simple loop, foregoing a scabbard, his trusty falchion, this old companion through many years and several battle. And an older friend still joined it, his broad-bladed hunting knife which he'd carried since he had killed his first deer, so long ago. And finally, on his hands his archer's gloves, backed with steel.
He was ready.
Well, perhaps he was ready to face his challenger that morning, Prince Lucien, and to fight him to the bitter end if need be. But he was not ready for the ridiculous pageantry. Wooden tiered benches had been built, as had a covered gallery fitted with braziers to the most honoured guests would be spared the chill of the morning. Already spectators had arrived. Already servants were handing out refreshments and food. As he politely declined such diversions on his way to the part of the cobbled courtyard that was fenced off, the musicians caught sight of the common-born knight and began playing a solemn dirge. That bastard Lucien's idea, no doubt. However, he did not let it bother him.
Nor the fact that he was on time and his opponent was yet unseen.
Lucien Deveraux Jean-Luc Deveraux Mariette Deveraux Nicolette Deveraux @antoinettedeveraux Tristan Deschênes @pierredeveraux Salvatore Deliambre Carlotta Deliambre @lenadelacroix Reed Gardiner Annemarie Gardiner and whoever else care to watch the show!