This is my first story I've ever put online for others to read. It might take a little while for the story to get interesting, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.
The Western Warrior
Chapter One
Sir Richard always loved the sound of horse steps on the worn dirt path, and the gentle sway of the horse as it plods along. On the warm days and with a cool breeze, he loved it most. Today was of those days; the sunlight danced around the leaves of the trees that lined the path, and you could faintly hear people at work in the village of Riverspring. Sir Richard Hill is the third son of Lord Edmund Hill; the Lord who owns the village and the surrounding one thousand acres of land. Up ahead was Lake Castle, the seat of House Hill. In reality, it's barely a castle; only a manor house and an eight foot high curtain wall. As Sir Richard arrives in the courtyard, his brother, William was waiting for him. "Richard, where have you been? Father has been asking after you."
Dismounting from his horse, he seemed smaller; he had always looked his age when upon his courser. Richard was about six foot tall, dark hair, and had a well-shaped face for a twenty year-old. "I was out for a ride, brother. I went down to ride around Riverspring on such a fine day. What is it that father wants?" Richard asked.
William looked at Richard with a hint of snobbery, as William was first-born and heir to their father. "There's a letter; with a golden seal… Father's waiting for you in the hall - brother -" William said with a mocking sense of affection.
Striding into the hall, Richard is comforted by the familiarities of home. The hall is cosy; it has pillars lining the approach to a raised platform where a table and the seat of House Hill resides. The walls are made out cobblestone and wood, they're draped in tapestries and banners with the House colours of green and yellow. As he enters, he sees Lord Edmund Hill on the seat of House Hill with a letter in hand. "Father." Richard proclaims.
Lord Edmund looks up, slouched in the great chair that is centuries old, one solid piece of wood carved from a great oak tree with intricate decorations carved into it and the sigil of House Hill, a shield bearing a sword with three stars surrounding it in a halo. He is frail for his age of forty, signs of age clearly showing upon him. "Ah, Richard. Come, there is a letter here from the King. A crusade has been called to purge infidels from the Holy lands. I expect you, as my third son, and seasoned commander, to go to the Holy lands and join the Great Army. You will not fail me on this." Lord Edmund spoke grimly.
Striding and then sits down facing his father, he looked upon in dismay. His father was sending him away to die by some infidels hand in some boiling hot desert half the world away. "But father, surely –" Richard was cut off by his Father.
"I will not hear it - my son -" Edmund spoke with strained anger "you will be going whether you want to or not. I have no place for you here anymore; you're third born to my name! You will never have this place as your own! Now go. Leave for port this nightfall. That is a command by your Liege Lord, obey it." Lord Edmund spat out his words like acid.
Shocked, Richard gets up from his chair and clenches his fist and slams it against his chest, over his heart. "Yes. My dearest father. I will go and die as you command." He says mockingly with his voice filled with anger to hide the great pain that his father had caused him. Richard sharply turns around and leaves only the echo's of his furious angered footsteps behind.
As promised by nightfall, Sir Richard Hill had donned his armour of mail, covered head to toe. A Surcoat of green and yellow with the house sigil upon his breast over the top of his mail. Also with his packed belongings, and seventeen hand high war horse he set of to port; the gateway to the Holy lands.