Chapter I: Sir Gilbert.
It was a bright summer morning, the sun washed over the snowy mountaintop, its long shadow still covering our descent. I could feel my footing loose on the morning dew, taking care to ensure my stability with every step as we made our way down the mountainside. Soon we would be able to enjoy a brief respite in the feeble cover of a beaten down chapel. But such a structure was like a palace compared to our lodgings over the previous fortnight. Huddled around a campfire, trading shifts on the guard for a restless sleep on a dirt pillow, certainly it was a far cry from the lavished furnishings of my castle home, back in my own time. I have heard only rumors, but it is said that in this time my castle has long since been destroyed. It's still very hard to fully conceive just what has happened to me. Over every hill I continue to believe that I will one day see my beautiful abode, its towering arches and flowing buttresses begging me hence, unto its warm mothering bosom. The warm cascade of smoke billowing out of my chimney as I sit comfortably beside the bull glow of my marble fireplace, it's truly an indulgence not easily forgotten in the cold chill of the Valhalla nights. I stopped briefly to survey the area, slowly scanning the landscape. To the southeast I could see smoke lofting into the air ever so lightly, a sign that the Utgar Army, and their apparent idiocy to stealth tactics, were not far. We had received word that Hatamoto Taro was not far off, however I personally had yet to see head or hide of him. However, Taro was a man with a great deal more tact than the Utgar, and that was a fact I was well aware of.
In the mid-morning sun my newly crafted armor looked glorious, such brilliant craftsmanship I had not seen in years. Jandar himself has commissioned it constructed in honor of my agreement to bear his flag in battle, and it was indeed a piece to be grateful for. Its texture and shine were metallic, but it was light, very light. In fact, I have carried swords more encumbering than this armor; it was rather unlike anything I had ever seen. At first I had doubted its integrity; how could something that seemed so flimsy stand against the force of a real battle? But the past few weeks had proved it more than worthy of my admiration. Yet somehow, even after weeks of hard-fought battle and sleeping resting on the cold ground, it had not tarnished in the least, and remained comfortable even in the greatest heat. It was then that I hear the faint whisper of my comrade Raelin, from just down the hill.
"Sir Gilbert, are you alright?"
I surveyed the surroundings again for any signs of Taro, and just as I thought, there were not, but I had a feeling about the hills to the northeast. I took a heavy breath and descended to meet the Kyrie.
"Quite alright, let us continue." As we reached the charred and beaten chapel I could think of only one thing. Indeed, as the urgency and omnipresence of danger set in there was truly only one thing to concern myself with…it was a poor choice to wear a chain mail thong…there are indeed chaffing issues.
