"The story of a girl Knight (1)" by Alexis Paige Millan

A question all ages have struggled with, what does it take to be a hero? Are heroes born, or are they made? Or are they simply lucky. I will tell you a story about two friends who were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and therefore became heroes.

It was a dark time in merry old England. True chivalry was long dead, and the noble occupation of the knight had been reduced to the glorified fluff of a sportsman. As the renaissance approached the lesser nobility lost much of their power…and wealth, and it is in this position that we meet the girl who would be great, Bryn Daily, or rather, Lady Bryn, though her title held in name only. Her family land lay in despair, their home a crumbling ruin and the fields not but dust and stones, and with Bryn being the last of her line, the chances of a resurgence of the Daily estate were looking unlikely.

Hardly more than a peasant, in theory as well as fact, young Bryn has spent the last 19 years trying to carve a life for herself out of a world she does not care for, or wish to conform to. In a time when a young woman held just a little less power than a sturdy mule Bryn will attempt to change her path in life.

Her story begins, as most stories do, in a very humble way. Her ladyship was outside of her ancestral home, as it could hardly have been called a castle in it’s prime, and was little more than a hovel now. Though a hovel with a lot of land. Her long curly hair tied up in a braid and her brow furrowed and sweaty, she looked as unlike a noblewoman as the tanner’s wife, or the ladies peddling fish in the market place. The young man approaching her is Edward, a young scribe and somewhat poet a few years her elder, whom she had grown up with almost as a brother.

“Bryn, aren’t you coming?” The statement was hardly a question, more of a command.

“You know, a gentleman would stop to help a lady with the heavy work.”

“Perhaps, my darling little Bryn, but you are no lady”

“Aye,” she grinned, “And you are no gentleman, and we shall be late if we don’t leave now.”

What they would be late for was a tournament, a rare occurrence in their small town, and always a magnificent affair. The main event of this tournament, as with any tournament, was the joust. The jousters were always noblemen who, for some reason unknown to commoners, decided to leave the life of comfort to gun at each other on horseback with big sticks. The aim of the joust is to actually splinter one’s big stick, or lance, as they would call them, on the armor of your opponent. This dreadful past time was followed by the young sons of the wealthy hoping to make a name for themselves.

By the time Bryn and Edward arrived at the tournament it was already crowded. They were forced to climb the nearest tree to get a good look. As they watched the exhibition of testosterone Bryn couldn’t help but wonder at the necessity of it all.

“I don’t know why these men even compete.” Bryn wondered aloud after a long silence “They are risking their lives and health for money that they do not need, judging by their clothes.”

“They aren’t risking anything” Edward responded. “They aren’t going to get hurt, and even if they do, they have access to the best barber surgeons in the world. They are in it for the glory, and for a pleasant way to pass the idle time that nobles seem to have so much of.”

“Some nobles.” Bryn sighed.

“No,” Edward continued as if he had no heard her, “The real lucky ones down there are the squires and servants. They aren’t noble, yet they live the life on the expense of a Lord. There is a life I wouldn’t mind being a part of.”

Now, this is a crucial moment in the story. Bryn could have let this comment slip by her unnoticed, but for some reason it struck her, as surely as if it were a punch. Her eyes lit up, as if she had discovered the great meaning of it all. She turned to Edward and replied with a smirk:

“And who says you can’t?”

“Don’t be daft. Do you see any noblemen down there looking for a scribe?”

“No, but I see one up here.”