Hello, this is something I started writing a while ago and I decided I should post it. It is an AU set in Araluen where Horace is seeking to become a knight. I'm not totally sure where exactly this is heading yet and I'm not totally sure on the title either, it may change later. This actually started out as a gygsy au thing, but just as I was about to upload it an idea struck me so forgive me if this first installment is a bit choppy, especially the area were I cut out 700 words. It'll probably end up something more like a Vicotorian/Sherlockian thing except not. I'll refine this chapter, and my ideas, later.

Feel free to leave me any criticisms, comments, maybe requests, whatever, I just ask that you not be mean about it. Constructive criticism goes much farther than saying someone is stupid and their writing is trash. Anyway, please do enjoy.

Edit: I didn't really do much to this. I mostly changed a few words and fixed spelling. I think this is good enough for a first chapter. However, hopefully the second chapter will be longer, a little more exciting. Also, I failed to mention this before the edit, this will likely end up with a romance between Horace and Will. I'm not sure if it will be come a full fledged romance, it might be more of a fling. Either way, it will be secondary to the story and thus may not be listed in the genre. If you do not agree with this choice of a pairing, that's fine, just please don't chew me out for it. I realize it is not canon and never will be. I don't want it to be canon. It is just my preferred romantic option for this.

Thank you for your time,

radio

The day dawned bright and early, a warm hint of spring rising on the breeze just as the sun rose above the horizon. All these elements roused a young man from a light sleep and he rolled, body aching, from the bedroll he had spread on the hard ground the previous night. Standing and placing the palms of his hands against the small of his back, Horace pushed, sighing appreciatively as the vertebrae popped back into their proper places.

Moving about the small camp, he went about the routine he had established over the past few days. He murmured an affectionate "morning" to the large battle horse tethered to a nearby tree as he fed and watered the animal. Once his steed was taken care of he relieved himself and went about making his own breakfast.

With a yawn he picked up a stick and used it to coax the glowing embers left over from the previous night's fire into a small flame, just enough to heat water for coffee. While the drink brewed, he munched on cold bread and cheese and thought on the day he had ahead of him.

He was headed for the capitol to became a knight. So far he had been traveling for three days and if he was correct, he should arrive at the capitol by night fall tomorrow. And it couldn't come soon enough. While he was sure the beds in the barracks wouldn't be very comfortable, he was also sure they were nothing compared to the ground of the Araluen countryside. At least the barracks beds would be dry and somewhat yielding, where as the ground was often rocky, wet, or an unpleasant mixture of both.

With a sigh and a shake of his blond head, he finished off his breakfast and coffee before going about packing up his camp. He smothered what was left of the fire with a few hand fulls of dirt and packed his few dishes and what was left of his provisions in his pack. Last, he shook out his bed roll and rolled it up to tie to his pack.

"Alright, Kicker," he addressed the horse, tightening the saddle and tying his sword and pack to it. "We've got another long day ahead of us." He untethered the horse and mounted. Once settled in the saddle he clicked his tongue softly and dug his heels into his steed's sides gently, urging him into a brisk trot.

Horace couldn't help but sigh in relief when the capital, so named after the country, came into view. The dull grey spires of the castle rose high over the wall. The flag depicting the royal family's crest flew from the highest point and was the first sign of the city travelers saw. He had first seen it in the early afternoon.

Now it was nearly evening and he waited amidst the line of traders, farmers and other such travelers for entrance to the city. He was almost to the gates. Ahead of him were a few trader's wagons and just in front of him waited an elderly farmer and his wife with cart pulled by a just as elderly mule. The small cart was packed with various cheeses and cured meats.

Slowly, the people were let through and finally it was the turn of the elderly couple in front of him. Horace was near enough to hear the exchange as it happened, and what he heard and ultimately saw disturbed him.

A guard, looking less like a guard and more like a drunkard, approached the old farmer. The guard asked the farmer what business he had in the city and the farmer replied that he was there to sell his produce at the market. The guard nodded and asked for the man's fee. To Horace's surprise the farmer pulled a burlap sack from the cart and handed it over. The guard checked the contents of the bag and scowled before spitting harsh words at the man and complaining about how there wasn't as much as last time.

The farmer stuttered a nervous apology and explained that his livestock hadn't been as productive that year. Many had died that winter as the farmer hadn't the grain to feed them all sufficiently. The guard scowled deeper and demanded the usual payment. The farmer reluctantly reached into his cart and pulled out a few wrapped wheels of cheese. The guard looked satisfied and ushered the farmer and his wife through the gate before gesturing for Horace to come forward.

Horace dismounted and led Kicker forward, tense and preparing for the interaction with this unpleasant man.

"What business 'ave you in the city?" the man asked, squinting at Horace. He smelled rather strongly of alcohol and stale sweat. His appearance wasn't any more appealing with a pock-marked face, small eyes, and questionable stains on his uniform.

"I'm here to join the king's knights," Horace answered honestly. The guard snorted out a laugh, much to Horace's chagrin.

"A whelp like you? Join those uptight arses?" he mocked, an amused grin on his face. "Good luck with that, mate." After another moment of laughing to himself, he held out his dirty hand. "Now, yer entrance fee, if you please."

"Entrance fee?" Horace, repeated, frowning. He had expected this from the guard's earlier harassment of the farmer, but had hoped nonetheless to avoid it.

"Well, yeah. Gotta charge an entrance fee. 'S only right the people give back to us hardworking guards for allowing them into our fair city," the guard answered, with a shit-eating grin. "A 'undredgold should cover it."

"A hundred!" Horace exclaimed, scowling. "How about once I'm up at the castle, I mention that there's a guard robbing travelers to line his pockets? I can't imagine anyone would be too thrilled about that."

Now the guard frowned, weighing his options. Scowling, he finally waved the boy through. "Fine! Just keep your smart trap shut, will ya?" Smiling in his victory, Horace mounted Kicker and rode through the gates.

His first site inside the walls was nearly breathtaking. The wide, cobbled thoroughfare he was on led straight through the city and up toward the castle, nestled in the center, with its pale grey stones and soaring towers. Lining the street in front of him were stalls with merchants packing up for the night and farmers covering their produce packed carts with cloths, preparing to settle in and keep away any potential thieves. As he rode through the market, Horace felt nothing but excitement. He had dreamed of this his entire life and finally he was here, his dream taking a more tangible form.

Smiling, he dismounted and led Kicker down a side street, looking for an inn. Finally, he came across a tavern. After settling his trusty steed into the stables, he entered the establishment and approached the bar. A bald man in a stained apron greeted him. "What can I do for you, lad?"

"I'd like a room if you have any spares," he responded, settling onto a stool. "And a meal as well."

"Can do," the man replied, offering a friendly smile as he called for a girl to bring out a plate. "That'll be fifteen for the room and ten for food." Horace gladly handed over the gold. Granted, it was a little pricier than the average town, but he was willing to pay a little extra to not have to sleep on the ground and for a warm meal to fill his belly.

Horace was given a few minutes to appreciate the warm atmosphere of the tavern and the delicious smells coming from the kitchen before the bald man returned with a plate and a flagon, setting both in front of him. He blink at the flagon in surprise. He hadn't ordered a drink"I didn't-" he started, but the bartender cut him off, chuckling.

"On the house, lad. I know a weary traveler in need when I see one." Horace smiled gratefully at the man before taking a swig. The man waited til Horace was finished with his meal before striking up any further conversation.

"So tell me, what brings a young man like you to city?" he asked, polishing a flagon he taken from behind the counter.

"I want to be a knight," Horace replied, taking a final swig from his flagon with a satisfied sigh.

The bartender laughed in surprise. "Such grand dreams, boy! And where do you hail from, Sir knight?"

"Redmont," he responded with a frown. He knew his goal seemed far fetched, but he didn't appreciate being mocked.

The man raised in eyebrow in recognition. "Come through Gorlan, then?" he asked, and Horace nodded. It had been his last warm meal til tonight. "Didn't have any troubles on the roads, did you? I heard whispers of bandits in those parts not a night past."

Horace shook his head. "No," he said, fighting against and losing to a yawn. "It was a bit boring actually," he admitted.

"Ah, then your road to becoming a knight should be interesting," the man said with a friendly smile and a wink. "It certainly won't be easy, that."

Horace nodded, knowing full well it wouldn't be. "I think I should turn in for the night," he said, standing from his seat. He was unwilling to hear the same thing every told him: it would be hard work, and he wasn't likely to last a week, a little greenling like him. The man just nodded and pointed him towards and empty room. And Horace slept peacefully that night.