Chapter 1: One Fateful Knight
At first, the bartender had some trouble figuring out why one of the most legendary heroes in the history of the kingdom was drinking himself silly in front of him, but as he served the knight his third tankard of ale, the armored man let out a moan of anguish and dropped his head down on the table, ignoring his drink.
The bartender leaned over towards the man and began cleaning his empty tankards. "What's the matter, sir? Surely a renowned knight such as yourself has other things to be doing than sitting in a tavern."
The knight looked up at him, removing his horned cerulean helmet. He shook out his brown hair and the bartender could see the tears in his grey eyes.
"It's Shield Knight," he moaned, taking a deep swig from his tankard. "My partner... my girlfriend... my betrothed. She's been sealed inside the Tower of Fate..." He trailed off, slumping forward against the bar. The bartender nodded sympathetically as he scrubbed the dishes. "And to top it all off, this Enchantress has brainwashed my two best friends. I just can't take it. Without Shield Knight I'm nothing."
"I'm sure you can do something about it, sir," the bartender said. "I mean, come on! You're Shovel Knight, the most decorated hero in the history of King James's reign!"
Shovel Knight snorted and gestured to his weapon, which was leaning precariously against his barstool. A magnificent blade, the same cerulean blue as his armor, the ornate shovel was now caked with dirt and shreds of vegetation. "Look at me. I'm just a bastard wearing a blue tin can and waving a digging tool. How am I going to do something about this?" He hung his head, and a tear dripped into his ale.
The bartender watched the disconsolate knight for a few seconds, then reared back his hand and slapped Shovel Knight in the face. "You snap out of it."
Shovel Knight rubbed the side of his face. "Ow. Snap out of what?"
"Dude, you're in some kind of a funk," drawled a peasant next to him.
"Yeah, man, yer real blue. Or iz- izzat yer armor?" slurred a drunk. He raised his flagon for a second, wavered, then crashed face-first onto the bar with a thwunk, ale sloshing from his glass and a thin trickle of saliva dribbling from his mouth.
The bartender stood, picked up the drunk by the scruff of his neck, and threw him out of the bar. "You've had enough."
Shovel Knight shook his head. "It's no use. An usurper has deposed the king, the Tower of Fate is unsealed, and all sorts of evil is over the land. I can't. I just can't. Sometimes I think I should... I don't know... start a farm or something. Dig manure and grow my own crops."
"No," said the peasant. "You can't. Don't you see? Shovel Knight, this is your area of expertise! You live for driving out evil! Remember, several years ago, when that huge dragon attacked the kingdom? And you and Shield Knight had it out like that," he finished, snapping his fingers. "This is just the kind of thing you do."
"You don't understand," moped Shovel Knight, lifting his shovel onto his lap and brushing dirt clods off its blade. "I can't do it without Shield Knight."
"So do it for Shield Knight!" said the peasant, standing up from his barstool. "Come on, Shovel Knight, do it for your friends!"
"For the people!" exclaimed the bartender.
"For old times' sake!" shouted another knight from the far end of the bar.
"For fun!" piped a freckly young squire from a nearby table, and Shovel Knight's morose features broke out into a smile. He laughed, ruffling the squire's hair, and held his shovel blade in the air.
"What's my motto?" he shouted.
"STRIKE THE EARTH!" roared the reply, the customers delighted to hear their hero's motto again. Shovel Knight lifted his shovel in the air and drove it down, fracturing one of the floorboards in his enthusiasm.
Shovel Knight stared at the broken floor for a second, then turned back to the bartender. "You, ah, you might want to fix that."