(Alex Baker and Eden Blackthorn)
The aroma of wood smoke and the warmth of the fire swirled around Donnan as he sat, legs stretched to the small table in front of him, old maps and crumbling texts surrounding the old, overstuffed chair in which he sat. Looking up from the history he was currently reading, he yawned hugely, stretching in his seat, in the process knocking several of the bound volumes to the floor.
Although the thick Baklunish carpet muffled much of the sound, there was still enough to startle Valeria awake. From her chair, located a little closer to the hearth than was Donnan's, she looked around, blinking. "Donnan?" she squeaked drowsily. Releasing her husband's hand, she struggled to sit up, the weight of the twin children she still bore pressing against her tiny frame.
Donnan arose from his seat and, taking the heavy spellbook from her and placing it on top of his own stack of tomes, helped his wife to do the same. Once she was on her feet, Valeria slid easily into Donnan's embrace. Resting her head on his chest, Valeria mumbled something.
"Hmmmm? What was that m'love?" Donnan looked down at Valeria's face, pillowed by her own hair. Her eyes were still half closed. Glancing at the water clock on the mantle, Donnan was startled by how late it was.
Meanwhile, Valeria bestirred herself long enough to mutter, a bit more clearly, "I said, how is your research going?" before sighing sleepily and settling against Donnan again.
Donnan looked at the truly impressive amount of literature he had 'borrowed' from the tower's library. "Not fast enough." he muttered.
"MMmmmm..." was Valeria's only reply.
Moving slowly, and mindful of his booted feet accidentally trodding on the skirting of Valeria's dressing gown, Donnan guided his wife gently over to their bed. Easing back the canopy, he helped Valeria sit on the edge of the quilted featherbed. While he took off her slippers, Donnan looked up and saw that Valeria was already asleep again. As gently as he could, he laid her back against the goose-down pillows and covered her with the comforter.
As she settled in, Valeria's eyes opened languidly. She smiled softly. Reaching out her hand, she cupped Donnan's bearded chin. "I love you." she whispered.
Donnan leaned in and, smiling, kissed Valeria. "I love you too. I'll come to bed soon. I just want to read a bit longer." He looked down, but Valeria was already asleep. Donnan watched his wife slumber for a minute or too, resting his hand on her brow for a moment before rising and going back to his chair by the fire. Picking up the books he had scattered in his carelessness a few minutes before, the title of one of the volumes gleamed golden in the firelight, catching the young knight's attention. Knights of The Hart, it said simply. Cocking an interested eyebrow, Donnan settled into the red velour easy chair, propping the large text on his lap. He slid the small table he was using a bit closer, and propped his crossed legs on it, careful not to knock over the books and papers already there. He paused for a minute, simply listening.
A mild storm had rolled in earlier in the day, and was still in the area. The sound of the rain pattering against the wooden shutters of Elea's Tower, the faint rumble of thunder echoing over hill and dale, and the sound of the wind whistling through the boughs of the trees in the garden made the room that much more cozy.
Between the downpour and the cooling of the season, Donnan had required very little encouragement to stay in with Valeria today. Since the time of their twins birthing was drawing ever nearer, she was keeping more often to the rooms they shared. So the young couple had taken the opportunity to relax. While Valeria used the quiet time to accomplish some long-neglected study, Donnan had begun poring over many of the books in the library. Already a very capable historian, he was not knowledgable in certain areas. One of those areas was the origin and history of the knightly order to which he belonged.
"Tower," Donnan whispered, "hot spiced cider, with a dash of rum, please." With a small sparkle of ambient light, the intelligence that looked after Elea's home delivered a large stoneware mug to the arm of Donnan's chair. The steaming, spicy fragrance mingled with that of the rain and the smoke, which the young knight breathed in deeply.
Taking the mug in his left hand, Donnan carefully opened the large, leather-bound book. Sipping his beverage, he began to read.
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Knights of the Hart (the document began)
by
Kirt of Wackford
This article is under review and will be revised in future by the author
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'Hmmmmm...,' thought Donnan, 'Then this was written recently. It'll be the first book in this tower I've found that was published this decade,' he mused wryly. Turning the page, he continued reading.
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...the Knights of the Order of the Hart were organized to assure that the central states... retained their freedom and purpose. Because these nations are quite decentralized and none maintains any sizable standing military force, each is subject to sudden incursions and threats from neighbors. In the east and north are the humanoid hordes and the barbarian nomads. To the west are the Baklunish states and the only slightly less threatening marches and military orders between, as well as Perrenland with its aggressive trade policies and well-organized soldiery to back them up...Thus, while each nobleman and lord of these nations has his own guards and men-at-arms, and each sovereign ruler maintains a small body of troops, most of the might of Furyondy, Veluna, and the High Folk takes a considerable time to muster. The Knights of the Hart are therefore sworn to be ready at an instant's notice to serve as a vanguard.
- (pp. 79, 80, A Guide to Greyhawk, P. Smedger )
There has been a near-continual flux of Knights of the Hart back and forth in the lands around Fals Gap. They are always regarded with utmost respect by the peasants: their commanding presence eases everyone's fears...and crushes all hope of freedom.
- Abradagore, Sage of the Free City of Greyhawk
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The last quote on the introduction page cought Donnan quite by surprise. Sitting a little straighter in his chair, he re-read it, to be sure that he had not gotten it wrong. "...their commanding presence eases everyone's fears...and crushes all hope of freedom." No, that's what it says, all right. Curiosity, tinged with a small dose of concern, bade him turn the page.
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History of The Knights
The Order of the Knights of the Hart was founded in CY 320 by the King of Furyondy. At the time, the forces of Iuz had long since wrested the northern shore of the Whyestil from Furyondy and had begun to invade the Vesve Forest. In return for royal help and protection the elves of the Vesve had recently ceded land to the Furyondian Crown, including much along the southern boundary of the forest. When this land was combined with previous Furyondian holdings around Chendl and Crockport, the whole province became known as the Tracts. The King then created an Order of Knights with two branches, one Olven, one Furyondian (the Velunese branch is younger and has a distinctly different history).
The Elves were to be the chief defenders of the Vesve Forest and would serve as liaisons between the numerous elven rulers and the Crown of Furyondy. The men were granted the wardship of the Tracts, and were charged with defending Furyondy and the elves by assaulting Iuz and his foul armies wherever they might be.
The two and a half centuries since then are a pittance of time to the Elven Knights. They have retained their original purpose and a good number of their original members. In contrast, some score monarchs of Furyondy have ruled and passed on, and the Furyondian Knights are now much more than the opponents of Iuz. They have become an important military and political arm of the Crown, and serve in many capacities.
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'Now that's interesting,' Donnan thought. 'There are Elves that serve as Knights of the Hart, too. I wonder if anyone remembers that?'
For the last sixty or more years, the borders of the Veseve Foreste had been sealed against all non-elves, but most aggressively against humans. Donnan's most recent trip there, to help Elea recover her inheritance from her great-grandfather, had shown him just how xenophobic the Olven Peoples had become.
Reading further, Donnan came across the passage "...the Knights are now much more than the opponents of Iuz. They have become an important military and political arm of the Crown, and serve in many capacities." 'Uh oh,' he thought, 'Political. I wonder if I want to read any further...?'
***
Elea had traveled to Reynald's castle to have a chat with her father about the bodyguard he had assigned to her. She had tried to leave GoldenMane home but he would not hear of it. She was his charge and he was not leaving her side. Only an order from Reynald would get him to change his mind.
She paced a little in Reynald's chambers. GoldenMane was a respectful distance away, giving Elea and Reynald a bit of privacy. "Father, GoldenMane is driving me crazy. He will not listen when I tell him important things - like not to follow me all over the tower. I'm safe in there."
"Dear, he's just following orders." He patted his daughter's shoulder. "I care for you. And, you are my only child now." His voice soften.
Elea felt a twinge of guilt. The whole world thought that she was Duke Reynald and Sharlynn's child, when in fact, she was his brother, Brentonius' child. A very small handful of people knew the truth. "I know, father." She did love Reynald, very much. "I know." She turned to him, trying a different tactic. "When in battle against a mage, what is the first thing you try to do?"
Reynald stopped. "Er? Well, I would try to disrupt any spell he might casting." He answered cautiously. "Why do you ask?"
She waved away the question. "How do you disrupt the spell?"
"I would try to distract him, hit him, something to make him lose concentration." He stroked his trim beard, contemplating the question.
"And what happens when you disrupt a spell?" Elea directed the conversation where she wanted it to go.
"Either nothing happens or something bad happens to the spellcaster."
Elea nodded. "Now, imagine I am attacked. My first thought is a long range spell. I have quick reflexs. I begin the spell and GoldenMane's first thought is to grab me and put me behind a shield. What's wrong with this?"
Reynald suddenly understood. "He disrupts your spell and bad things happen."
"Exactly. At this point, GoldenMane is a danger to me. And he will not take orders from me. He will not train with me nor understand that his 'protection' will most likely get me killed."
He nodded. "I see."
She pressed the issue. "So, unless something changes, I am going to leave GoldenMane here - in order to protect myself from him."
"You will not leave GoldenMane here, young lady." Reynald's face set stubbornly. "I am your father and you will obey me."
"Then he returns with me on MY terms, Father." Elea's voice was just as determined as Reynald's.
"And what terms are those?" he demanded.
"He will answer only to me. You are not his Pack leader, or whatever, anymore." She continued on as storm clouds grew in Reynald's face. "He will obey me or I will not be able to trust him to protect me - to do the things I need him to do to protect me. Father, please. Put yourself in my shoes. You would not stand for it either."
Reynald stopped and thought about it. "Maybe you're right. We will have to speak to GoldenMane, though. If he does not agree, then we will find you another bodyguard."
Elea smiled. "Thank you, Father." She gave him a hug as he called GoldenMane over to discuss the matter with him.
Continue on to: 22. For the Love of Fathers