"The Knights: Alexander" by Nathan W. Woods

Not a large one....in fact if you were to look around you would think it very small....almost cell like. In the corner is a pile of hay-old, smelly, hay. On top is a small sheet or blanket of some unknown color with many patches and still more holes. Hanging on a nail in the wall is a cloak--dark, brown, with the smell of sweat and offal on it. In a pile in the corner are some clothes....old, worn out, and unwashed for a long time. The walls are unfinished wood with nails sticking out at odd intervals. The ceiling is low and unpainted. The floor is rough and dirty. The only light in the room comes through the cracks in the outside wall and a small candle that is so well used it looks as if it might snuff itself out at any instant. The room surprisingly has very little odor....perhaps because of the drafts whistling through the walls. In the bed there is a small snuffling sound.

Small...perhaps 8 years old. An unruly mop of dark yellow hair grows from the top of his head. The face-dark, dusty, except for the streaks caused by his crying, those show pale skin. His eyes-green-gray, they have the look of one much older and that of one who has seen too much. His body-small, underfed, but with the undeniable strength of one who has worked hard all of their lives. His clothes-pale, brown, and stained with who knows what.
"Alexander" a booming voice echoes.

A large man, though not a fat man. He is a mountain of a man, but highly dexterous, a dancer, or perhaps a thief. He is dark, but clean and well kept, his deep brown eyes see all. His brunette hair is cut short and his mustache is kept well trimmed. He sits in finery in a fine room. The candles in the wall scones burn brightly.

"Alexander get in here this instant!"
The small boy shuffles into the room. "Yes sir?"
"You will clean this building today. I do not want to see a speck of dust in this house. You will clean everything from top to bottom today. If you finish before dark you will then wash the laundry. After doing that you will clean the back shed including your room. If you still have time in the day you will present your self to me."
"Yes sir."
Alexander cleans...he does more than expected, faster than expected...this does not earn him praise...it earns him beatings from the other drudges. He trudges into his room each night with a small loaf of bread and a piece of moldy cheese. He does not grow ill from his poor surroundings...he seems to thrive on them instead.

Alexander seems to have grown beyond his years...he is tall for his age, but very thin. His eyes have darkened but the clothing he wears seems no different. He does his work with out tiring or complaint. His master takes notice...
"Alexander!"
The boy appears almost instantly. "Yes sir?"
"I think a change of jobs would do you good."
A confused look is on Alex’s face "Sir?"
"Yes...a new job, but this one requires some training..."
"Sir?" Alexander is now completely confused...He is so lost that he can do no more than stand and look befuddled.
"Well don’t just stand there boy! Go and clean up and see me in my study in twenty minuets!" the master bellows, looking at the boys face...he sees what he is looking for...intelligence.

Alexander walks into the study; cleaned up and in his best clothing. His master sits at the desk...its bright wood contrasting the dark green carpet and the dark bindings on the books. The curtains are drawn to the afternoon sun and candles burn in the wall scones, and in the candleholders on his desk. The books are arranged in neat rows...seeming to be organized more by book cover than by title or author. Alexander stands in front of his master’s desk, absent-mindedly reading book titles ‘The many uses of arsenic’ and ‘The human guide to the races’, they had a green and a red cover…respectively.
"Ahh...yes...WHAT...oh, boy, you about gave me a heart attack... Never sneak up on me like that."
"Sorry, sir"
"Sorry he says. Come boy you have much to learn." He leads Alexander out of the room and down the hall. Talking all the while. "Yes...this will do nicely...with a little training and some meat on your bones you will be one of the best, I can feel it."
Alexander looks confused but says nothing...his mind racing ahead of him. Best? Best at what? Cleaning? Why is my master looking so pleased with himself? What am I doing here, I have chores to do...I will be beaten again if I don’t do them.
"Look at me boy. Did you hear what I said?"
"N-no, sir."
"I said this is to be your room, you will find clothes in the dresser, and your tools on the desk."
"Tools sir?"
"Yes tools, you cannot be a proper thief without tools."
"Y-yes sir"
"Now go in there and get changed, then throw the clothes you are wearing into the fireplace...I can’t have you wearing those around now."
"Yes sir."

Alexander stumbled into the room. The carpet was a dark red and textured in strange patterns. It wasn’t a big room...in fact most would consider it insultingly small, but to Alex it was huge. There was a small four poster bed in the center of the room and against the opposite wall from the door was the fireplace. There was a red plush chair sitting in a corner, pulled up to a small cherry desk. The dresser and vanity were made out of mahogany, inlaid with some lighter wood. The pulls were all made of brass that shone dully by the light of candles. Over the fireplace was a pair of broad swords, crossed, that had the look of not having been used in a while, but there was no dust, anywhere. Shrugging Alexander shed his clothes and threw them into the unlit fireplace. He then walked carefully over to the dresser and opened the top drawer. Black, all black, and all socks. He looked in the next drawer down, still all black, but this time shirts of different style. Each drawer contained different articles of clothing. Feeling a little lost; Alexander proceeded to try on several articles of clothing until he found one of each that fit. On top of the dresser there were 6 pairs of gloves, leather, and again black. Beside the bed there were again 6 pairs of soft leather boots, black as night. Alex found a set of clothing that fit reasonably well and then tried on a pair of boots and a pair of gloves...The smallest of each fit perfectly. Finding a black belt with a silver buckle he decided that he was dressed as his master wished, the buckle being the only spot of light on his otherwise black outfit. Putting his gloves back on the dresser he started to wonder what to do next. His master had said something about tools. Looking at the desk he saw several implements on the desk. At the farthest left he saw a pen and paper, very well he could read and write already. Next to the right were a short sword and dagger, after that many pen like instruments in a pouch. After that a set of strangely shaped hooks and finally a set of spikes attached to metal and leather bands. All of the metal pieces were coated with some kind of black substance that did not rub off. Even the blades seemed to be made of the stuff...except for the very edges...which shown with an almost silver brilliance. Alexander heard the click of the door behind him as the bolt was turned.

"I see you have changed and have found your implements. Very well, you start your lessons after supper. You will eat at my table tonight, and every night afterwards if you are on these grounds, unless otherwise commanded by me. You will show up last for tonight’s meal and will sit at the only open chair at the table. You will eat silently until you are spoken too by either me or one of the others eating at the table. Do you understand?" Alexander nods his head affirmatively. "Good, follow me then."
Alexander sat dumbfounded at the table, more food sitting on his plate this meal than he had had in the past week. The table was long and low, seating about 20 men at it, each was full grown, and eating heartily. Alex looked up and down the table...a feast seemed spread out and there were servants and slaves everywhere, refilling both plates and drinks when they ran out. He answered any questions that were thrown at him which, much to his relief, were few. He learned quickly how he was supposed to eat in order to avoid being laughed at by the older men sitting around him. Each man either wore black or some dark color, and seemed wealthy. There were no obvious scars that Alex could see when he worked up the courage to look at them. His master sat at the head of the table and laughing when he felt like it, and devouring a mound of food. Alex ate slowly, now knowing what was going on and feeling a little ill. Suddenly one of the men excused him self, got up, and left. Not long after only his master and Alex remained. Alex looked near sobbing...feeling the wrath of the rest of the servants every time one of them looked at him.
"When you are done go to your room and go to bed. You will need your sleep for tomorrow, and for the day after...and for every day after that for the rest of your life." He cleared the room. "You think you worked hard before boy, but know this, that was nothing compared to what you are about to do. You may be wishing for your previous life when I am done with you."
Alexander nodded and got up, and then headed for his room and bed...He then cried himself to sleep.

Alexander climbed the outer wall using the claws attached to his gloves and the spikes attached to his boots. As he neared the top he slipped on his black face mask and looked over the top of the wall. Gazing across the inner yard of the house he saw several guards on rounds. Glancing at the top of the wall he noticed for the first time the razor sharp stones placed closely together. ’Hmmm...they are not going to make this easy, are they’ he though to himself. The ground on the other side was too far down to jump and a rope would be torn to shreds by the top of the wall. Thinking silently to himself Alex tried to decide what to do. At last with a shrug he care fully placed his hands on top of the wall and pulled him self up above it. He then placed his toe spikes on his left foot on top of the wall and used that to raise himself a little higher, he then carefully swung his other leg over the wall, praying all the time that his spikes would hold. Carefully he moved his hands so they were in blank spots along the edges of the wall palms in, supporting his weight. He then placed the side spikes on his right boot into cracks in the wall. Now supporting the weight of his body on his right hand and foot he carefully swung his left leg over the wall. He placed his toe spikes on his left foot and transferred some weight onto it, the shifted his right foot into a better position. He then started to climb down the wall, his progress masked by a tree near bye, but not close enough to help the climb. Fingers and toe spikes dug into the wall and supported his weight until he was about ten feet off of the ground. Alex then dropped lick a cat to the grass making no sound other than the slight ‘click’ as the hooks in his boots and gloves let go of the wall. Panting slightly after the forty-foot climb down Alex surveyed his surroundings. He was surprised to see the utter lack of discipline of the guards as they wandered around the lawn, chatting to them selves. Checking the map in his head and the surroundings he decided on the best route to get into the house. ‘There should be a third story window that leads into the kitchen...yes...that should do well’ he thought to himself as he memorized the patterns of the guards.

Two hours later A black figure scaled the wall of the brick building. As it neared the third story it froze. Three guards strolled around underneath...the night as black as pitch because of the heavy clouds overhead. Alex made no sound that might tip off the guards but his claws were slipping and dropping pieces of brick and mortar to the ground below. The guards moved past, chatting quietly to them selves, sure that no one would be able to scale the outer wall without someone noticing...because no one had up until this point. As they moved away Alex breathed a little easier and crawled up to the window. He peaked inside and saw that not only was there no one inside, but the window was also unlocked. ‘Impenetrable my ass’ he thought as he deftly started opening the window with his left hand while the other hand and his feet held onto the wall. The window rose 2 inches before it stuck. Swearing silently to himself Alex reached inside his cloak and grabbed a small can of oil. His arms and legs were starting to tire, but ignoring the pain he reached up and oiled the track of the window. He then set the oil on the window ledge then placing his left hand on the sill and getting a good grip he shoved the window up with his left hand. It moved several more inches up before once again it stuck. His arms now screaming for relief he climbed deftly through the gap...it was just wide enough for him to fit. He dropped to the floor of the kitchen then reached over his head for the oil. It teetered on the edge of the window sill then dropped to the ground outside with a soft thunck and a splatter of oil. Closing the window behind him and cursing his luck he hid himself in a corner. He heard no shouts outside, so he figured that the sound must have gone unnoticed. Checking his supplies one more time he took off the claws from his gloves and the spikes from his boots, putting them in special pouches made specifically for that purpose.

Alex took off his mask for better visibility in the dark halls. The only people that should be up at this time of night should be the guards, he thought to himself as he checked himself over one more time before setting out. Still silently cursing the loss of his oil can he padded silently down the halls at each intersection he carefully listened for the sound of voices or footsteps. Hearing none he continued on until he saw the door to the room he was looking for. Giving the knob a turn and carefully pushing, then pulling on the door he found that it was indeed locked. Quickly he grabbed his lock picks and worked on the dead bolt. With a click the door unlocked and Alex silently opened it on its well-oiled hinges. Scanning the bead room he heard the soft snoring of a man at rest and the light breathing of his wife. Alex quickly went about cleaning the room of all valuables. He placed them in his pack, a gift from his master, it always seemed to hold more than it looked like it could, it never looked full, and even loaded with a lot of valuable items it never seemed to weigh much more than the heaviest item in it. In actuality it wasn’t really a gift, his master only let him use it when he went thieving, and always took the loaded bag back when Alex came back. Alex’s only pay came from a portion of the money that was contained in the sack; he never kept any of the valuables unless he secreted them somewhere else on his person. The room was clear except for a sword that hung above the mantle...it looked extremely old, but not worn. It was unsheathed and sat on a rest above the scabbard. It was about three inches wide and was sharp along only one edge. It had a slight curve to it. The hilt was carved in an elaborate dragon like design. Alexander thought it a strange weapon, never having seen a katana before. He shrugged and grabbed its scabbard then reached for the sword.

"HALT!" yelled a voice behind him. Alex had been discovered, but how? The guards did not come into this room, and the master of this house was asleep. Suddenly the sword disappeared. "What do you think you are doing? Eh?"
"Me? I must have wandered into the wrong room by mistake," Alex said, thinking fast.
"You are lying."
Alex slowly turned around, then stood dumbfounded of the man there. He was standing there in nothing but his night clothes, with the sword in hand. This man, probably the richest judge in town. He always seemed to know when someone was lying, and the people who stood before him, that were guilty, feared the judge.
The judge asked again, "Just what are you doing there?"
"I’m robbing the place, what does it look like?" Alex stated.
"That is what I thought, answer me this, how did you get in?"
Alex spit on the floor, "That, sir, is how much your guard is worth."
"Oh really, tell you what, I don’t kill you if you agree to help improve my defenses so a thief like you cannot make it in here."
"I have a deal for you, you die and I take all of your possessions, including that fancy sword."
The man nodded, "Have it your way."
Alex drew out his short sword; he then dropped the rest of his baggage on the ground and threw off his cape. "You might want to tell your wife to leave the room."
The man looked at him with some respect "You would allow that of me?" Alex nodded. The man looked at his terrified wife and stated, "Leave, tell no one what is going on in here." The woman grabbed some blankets and wrapped them around herself as she fled the room.
"Do you really want to do this?" the judge asked.
Alex only nodded and got into a defensive position. The judge across from him seemed to accept the position and fell into on of his own. Alex circled his position a couple of times then lunged at him sword first. The judge easily sliced through the short blade with his own then tripped Alex, leaving him splayed out on the floor. Alex slowly sat up with his back to the judge, his arms at his side, holding nothing but the but end of his broken sword. "Kill me," he whispered.
"Is that really what you want?" the judge asked.
"Yes"
"Then, no." Confused, Alex looked up and then turned around and stared into the man’s face.
"As recompense for letting you live you will serve me in any function that I see fit until you or I are dead."
Alex shook his head, "You don’t understand do you sir, if I were to make such a deal with you neither you nor I would live long."

The man started chuckling...then laughing, and then he nearly fell over with his mirth. "Y-you don’t understand do you? No one else could have made it in here. There are probably three attempts per month to do exactly what you just did. The last two made it as far as the inner wall before the guards killed them. Before that people were found immediately after they scaled the wall, either crying out when they cut themselves on the stones at the top, falling down the side of the wall and waking up dead. You, son, have been the only one in the last hundred or more to even make it into this room, and the one before that was me." Shocked and utterly floored by this statement all Alex could do was stammer and stutter.
"Yes, I too used to be just like you, and like you I made it into this room and was defeated by the former owner when I reached for that sword," gesturing toward the sword on his bed. "Help me make this place better than it was before and you will be my heir. Refuse and you will be dead."
Nodding, Alex accepted the offer of not dying.
"I thought you would see things my way." Picking up the sword from the bed and tapping Alex on each shoulder with it he stated, "Come, I will find you a room, you have much to learn."

Alexander wakes up with a start...he looks around. ‘This is not my room,’ he thinks to himself. Where am I and how did I get here. Then, in a flash, last night returned to him. ‘So...how dead am I?’ He slowly walks around the room, checking every nook for secret openings and looking around for valuables out of habit.
"It will do you no good."
Alexander looks around with a start "What will do me no good?"
The judge from last night, now wearing a nice shirt and pants--he didn’t looked dressed up, nor did he look like a peasant, stated, "Looking around for secrets, there are only two ways out of here; through the door and through the window, and the window is an over hang...I think even someone with your vaunted climbing skills would have difficulty getting around the thirty foot drop to the ground, or the fifty foot climb up to the roof, especially without your claws."
"Who said I wanted to get out of here?"
"You did, to yourself, that is why you are looking around the room."
Alexander nods to himself and slowly does another circuit of the room. "How long until they figure out that I am still alive and start to come for me?"
"Probably a long time. There were three attempts on this compound after you made it in here. A couple of them were so badly injured that they were unrecognizable. One poor boy was burned to a crisp, a pity too, he made it to the inner court."
Alexander gulped down his bile, "You didn’t m-murder them just to have a cover for me d-did you?"
"Of course not. If there had been no more attempts after you we would have instead sent out the damage reports like usual, only this time we would have said that the person making the attempt was burned to ash when they fell off of the roof into the bonfire we have burning every night. Come you have much to learn."
"You said that last night too. I was wondering what you meant? That and I would like to know the name of my captor."
"My name is Julias T. Slayer, and I will be your mentor until either you or I die...whichever comes first."

Alex follows Julias out of the room and into a large parlor. In the center of the room is a banquet table that looks like it could seat fifty or more. Along the walls are pictures, they look to be the previous owners of this estate although none are of the same decent. Each picture has a caption under it listing the date that the person inherited the estate, until the time of their death, the last date on one was the first date on the next, give or take a few days. In the center of the table is a large bouquet darkly colored, but beautiful flowers. In-between each of the portraits there was a similar bouquet, but much smaller. The last picture on the far wall was Julias, perhaps ten years younger, but the same man. Noticing his gaze Julias walked over to his portrait. "This painting was commissioned the day after I inherited this place. I suspect that you will have one made of yourself also."
"Why me, I still don’t understand, why not one of your children?"
"It is because of the way the estate changes hands. None of my children will receive more than a monthly sum when I die. They are not skilled enough to survive the hardships that they would face if they were to take control of the sword."
"The...The sword? Don’t you mean the estate? The sword is very nice and all, but I would figure running this estate would have more hardships than some old sword."
Julias chuckled, "I suppose you would think that. Do you not know the legends of the swords?"
"Legends? Swords? No, I, sir, am nothing but a lowly thief who happened to get a difficult job from his master."

"Let me tell you about the swords. Each has its own ability, and it passes one ability upon the person who wields it. There are sixteen known swords. Each sword is different in part or whole than the others. Some are more powerful than others. My sword is known as the Truth Slayer, which by the way is where I get my middle and last names, and it holds these powers. If any man attacks under false pretenses or for false reasons it passes through their weapon without trouble, destroying the weapon. The controller of the weapon knows instantly if the person or persons he is talking to believes that he is telling the truth. I can detect even partial lies. That is what makes me such a good judge of people. I cannot however tell if the person talking is telling the actual truth. A person that believes what he says can still pass a falsehood over on me, that is where my instincts kick in. I was a good judge of people even before the sword. Depending on the person who controls it the sword can do great good, or much harm. Once you control the sword you join the Knights. If you reject this order you will be hunted down and killed by the other members. If you are or become inherently evil you will be destroyed and the blade will be taken from you. If your blade is destroyed by some act of man it will remake itself at some point in the future, not necessarily in your life time. If the blade is destroyed by an act of god then it will remain forever destroyed. There are rumors that there were once 21 swords, but now we are down to 16 known ones. No man can stand to hold the blade for more than a few seconds and any attempt to take the blade will result in the bearer to know immediately, even if he is in a deep sleep or a coma. Come now your skills with the sword were lacking. It is time for you to become the best swordsman in this area. Seeing as you are already the best thief that shouldn’t be too hard."

Alexander sat through the entire speech (it went on for several minuets) dumbfounded. He could not believe his ears, or his luck. Slowly absorbing each pertinent fact as it came up his brain felt suddenly full. Alexander slowly shook his head.
"What’s the matter boy?"
"You said you wanted help making this place more defensible?"
"Well, yes, but you turned down that bargain, remember?"
"Yes, I do, but I really think you should hear my ideas on how to make this place even more burglar proof."
"Very well Alex, come down to the record room and we shall see about how smart you are in preventing thievery."

‘One two three, up down, up down, up down..’ this was the fourth sword master this month and already he was getting predictable. He seemed to be the best of the lot from the last group, but Alexander had to admit to himself that they were no substitute to Julias. He hears a knock at the door.
"Yes?" Alexander quickly disarms the man, and dismisses him much to the others wounded ego.
"A note for you sir, from Mr. Slayer" The butler states as he enters the workout room.
Alex takes the note "Thank you, you may leave now" the butler bows and leaves Alex alone with the folded piece of paper.
'Please come to my room as soon as you are done with whatever your current activity is.'
Alex looks around the room, and decides that his sword fighting skills wouldn’t get another work out today. He heads up to Julias’s room. "You wanted to see me?"
Julias, now very old, much older than Alex would have guessed upon looking at him seven years ago, nods. His illness, incurable said the doctors, had aged him months in days, and years in weeks.
"I am about to die."
Alexander can do no more than nod, as the tears stream down his face for his first real father.
"Take care of my wife for me."
Alex nods, now holding the old man’s hand.
"Two more things, upon my death immediately take the sword that lay beside me. You will become the rightful owner of it. Also there is a note on the dresser for you when I go, do not read until then, it will make sense only after you have clamed the sword for your own."

Julias continued to hold out for two more days, saying his final words to friends and family. Some eyed his sword with lust, knowing what it was and how they could acquire it. Most dearly regretted the passing of the only judge in town that could not be bribed, and did not seem like he favored those with power. In the eleventh hour of the night he breathed his final breath, with Alex closely by his side. Alex rested his hand upon the old man’s the grasped the sword by its hilt. Immediately fire ran down his arm and he could smell the flesh of his hand burning. Pain, nearly unbearable pain seared through his hand and arm, but he couldn’t let go, the sword wouldn’t let him. Alex passed out. The next morning he awoke the sword still in his hand, the scabbard now on his belt. ‘Funny,’ he thought, ‘I don’t remember putting that there.’ The butler walked into the room "Good morning sir." LIE, LIE, LIE drummed into Alex’s mind, the man is lying. No, he told himself, he doesn’t believe what he says. He knows it is not a good day for me today. Alex sheathed the sword, and looked at his hand, the right one now had the scar that perfectly mirrored the engraving on the sword, the left was the same as always. Taking the small folded paper he waived the man to the body and left for his own room. On the paper were only a few words, but it took Alex a long while to understand the meaning of them.

"Dear Julias,
There will be a meeting of the Knights upon the date of Lady Eowlyn and Sir Iskdar’s marriage. You are strongly encouraged to attend this meeting, as it is only the second one of this year. Send my respects to your new student, I hope he turns out as good as you seem to have.