The Legends of The Dark Knight
Book One: The Jester's Court
Synopsis:
The world is a dark place. It always has been, and many have lost hope for change. There is, though, one man standing ready to bring forth the dawn. The mysterious crusader, known only as the dark knight, stands against the raiders, bandits, and other threats hovering over the kingdom. When a deranged Jester takes control of his lord's manor and enlists the help of a monster to guard his new abode, the Dark Knight faces an enemy like none he has known.
Chapter 1:Knight and Day.
The moon was high above the silent village, casting a silvery cast upon the wattle and dab houses lining the empty streets. The only color to be seen in the pale night was a shocking red rivulet trailing along the dirt, dripping out from chest of a slaughtered villager. Above his ruined body stood three men, dressed in rags and sneering maliciously. The largest of them, possibly the leader, moved to the side of the dead man's cottage, reared back, and slammed into the wall. With three more attempts, he had breeched the wall.
Inside, a woman and her child stirred, and looked up at the intruder, no doubt expecting the dead man to have returned, having found nothing wrong outside. As they woke, a stunned look overtook them, and both let out a scream. The huge man sneered, and pulled out a dagger. "Aye, you dogs! Get your bloody carcasses in here!" he shouted, taking a step toward his victims. The woman hugged her son close, and waited for the knife, but suddenly, the assailant hesitated. For but a moment, fear flashed over his face. "Hurry it up, you two!"
The only reply he received was a loud series of screams. At that, he took off toward the breeched wall, brandishing his knife. Before him, the night was empty. His partners were nowhere to be seen. Alone in the night, with nothing to see but the dead man, the bandit looked around wildly. From the corners of his eyes, he caught glimpses of a shadowy figure. He was about to shout into the night, when he suddenly felt something wet drip onto his shoulder. His eyes darted upwards, and at last found his partners. Pinned to the house frame by long daggers driven through their shoulders, his partners dangled lifelessly.
Dead or simply unconscious, he neither knew nor cared. Now he understood, and only one thought remained to him; escape! He ran through the darkness, his mind racing. This could not be happening, he thought. It was a myth, a legend. Whatever it was, he could escape, if he only made it out of the village. Just then, a sharp pained rushed through his thigh, an he hit the ground, hard. A gleaming black dagger jutted from his leg. He struggled on, clawing forward. He looked back in horror, and saw the thing coming forth from the night. An armored man, or a demon more likely, brandishing an axe with a sword swaying in a sheath at his side. "That's as far as you go, scum. Stand down if you enjoy drawing breath."
The bandit screamed, and tried to shuffle away backward, unable to look away from his terrible pursuer. The armored warrior continued his approach, inching ever closer. " Scream all you want," the man said in a menacing voice. "Its over for you." The warrior now stood over his prey, and drew his axe into the air. Bellow him, the bandit whimpered pitifully.
"Have some mercy!" the lowly cur begged. A moment later the butt of the axe came down hard on his face, breaking his nose and rendering him unconscious. The warrior bent down and hefted his foe onto his shoulder.
"You are lucky I have no wish to clean my blade tonight," he said to himself and he carried the bandit back to the scene of his crimes. He walked through the hole the man had created, and laid his unconscious body on the floor before the grieving woman, still clutching her babe. "The nobles in Gotham will send vassals hereto collect the garbage." The woman looked up gratefully at her savior, from his midnight black armor, gleaming in the moonlight, the silver crest upon his breast plate, depicting a bat, to his horned great helm, the man matching his legend beautifully.
"Thank you, brave warrior, for saving my life." Her voice was sincere, but she could tell, he was troubled deeply. "You have fought bravely for me, and I can never repay your kindness."
The man bent to her level, and looked her in the eyes. His eyes were as dark as the rest of him, but there was a sort of compassion in them that his tough exterior gave no allusion to. "Do not praise me unduly, for I was too late. I must go, now. With that he rose and turned to leave, but heard the woman call him once more. He paused mid step and looked back to her.
"They call you The Shadow, The Bat, Night Hunter, and many other things, sir. I wish to know what I would call the man who saved my life." She waited for an answer, and for a moment, she thought he would leave silently. Just then he faced her one last time.
"I am the Dark Knight," He said, and with that he strode noiselessly into the night. The woman looked after him until he faded from her view completely. Behind another home, not far away, a handsome black steed was tethered by rope secured by dagger stuck into a post at the roadside. The dark knight plucked up the dagger, slipped it into a slot on his knife belt, and leapt into the saddle upon the steed's back. "We ride for home," he said to the horse, and knocked the heels of his iron boots into the animal's side.
All was once more quiet, and the dark knight was gone, a shadow in the deepest blackness.
Lord Wayne stirred in his bed, sitting up bolt straight a few moments later. His faithful servant, Sir Pennyworth, stood in the corner of the room, carrying a tray with toasted bread. "Long night, Master Wayne?" Lord Wayne took to his feet and went to his wardrobe to dress, before turning to his servant.
"Aren't they all, Alfred?" he asked, taking a slice of the bread. Pennyworth gave him a look half way between annoyance and amusement. He wore a coat of simple cut and humble cloth, but kept his clothing clean and presentable at all times, as fit a proper lord's servant. He stood and faced Lord Wayne, in his fine coat and silvered belt, prepared to speak.
"In the first place Sir, I must once more ask you to call me Pennyworth. It is improper for a Lord to be so informal with his help." He said this all in a very formal tone, though he kept the amusement on his face. "And in the second place, sir, I find you might benefit from a vacation from your moonlit walks so late."
Lord Wayne munched his toasted bread, swallowed, and then answered. "Alfred, you are my friend before you are my servant, but a servant still, so I may address you in any way I wish. You are much to formal, old man. And as for my walks, they help me clear my head, and I shall not cease them." Alfred Smiled slightly, bowed, and was about to turn when his lord stopped him. "Before you attend to other duties, I am aware of problems in a small village to the west. Three bandits lay injured, and one man dead there. Please send me to clean up the mess, and give my deepest apologies hotelwoman of the house.
Alfred nodded, said "right away, sir," and was off to his duties. Lord Wayne munched on the bread absent mindedly. "Long night," He said to himself. "I would have it no other way."