The Lost One- A Knight's Honor

by ZangetsuOldMan

The Administratum has the greatest source of knowledge in the Imperium. However, not even among their records can someone find shreds regarding the Lost Ones. The Second and Eleventh Primarchs, marked from history by order of the God-Emperor. What did they do? This is the tale of the Eleventh and how he came to rule the world of Avalon, his impact on the Imperium even to this day.

12. Chapter 12

Hey, so it's been a while hasn't it? Well, I got caught up with some other stuff and put this on the backburner unfortunately. However, I am proud to announce that I am back my friends. The only unfortunate news that I have is that I decided to join the military so I don't know how much time I will have to dedicate to my writing in the next few months. However, do not be alarmed as I have no intention of letting Dustriel's story go unfinished (at least until we get to Nuceria, I have so many plans for that encounter running through my head).

Now, without further delay, here is the continuation of the Grand Tourney!

Dustriel wiped a hand over his face as he stepped out of the jousting field. Even as resilient as he was, having to face so many skilled opponents still worn him out a bit. However, he had never felt as alive as he did.
Ser Gregori is a truly skilled knight. The giant thought, watching as the Hospitallers carried their champion off his stead and towards the medical tent. The man had been a well fought battle, he could still feel where the man had put a dent in his breastplate.

Had he fought anyone else then he would no doubt have been victorious. However, Dustriel would not settle for anything else than the championship. The grandmasters had decreed that that would be the last joust of the day. Though he hated to admit it, he knew that he would appreciate the coming rest and feast that would be held for them.

"Damn Dust, did you have to hit the poor man so hard?" The giant heard from behind him, a smile gracing his face as he turned to look at Jibril's approach form. Following him was Alanas, the lad looking up at him with a bit of awe in his face, as well as the grim faced free rider that he fought earlier today.

"What was I to do Jibril?" The giant asked, chuckling as he walked towards the trio. "Simply stand there and allow him to strike me?" He gestured to his breastplate, the dent directly over his heart. "I think that my armor would have been put through quite a beating had I done so."

Agravain approached, bowing his head as he spoke. "It was a well fought fight Ser Dustriel." He said, his words would normally be enough to bring a smile to anyone's face. However, his stern demeanor made it hard to tell just how serious the man was. "The Cockatrice is not a man that is so easily bested. However, you made it appear to be child's play."

Alanas turned to look at Agravain, a bit of confusion in his face. "I find it a little strange that a free rider is trying to cozy up to a Shield." He said, his eyes narrowed a bit. "Are you trying to get into his good graces and perhaps regain your lost honor?"

"Alanas." Dustriel replied, giving the boy a stern look. He didn't like how blunt the boy was being to his new companion. "Be mindful of your words boy. Ser Agravain is here by my request. I decided that spending the festivities with us would do for his ransom of his gear and thus you are to treat him with respect. He fought well and he is a man of honor so I expect that you will show him the proper respect. Do I make myself clear?"

From what he was able to gather from the man's mind that he did not have the best experiences with the other knights of Pugione. No doubt because he has a sense of honor still. The giant thought, turning to look at how the man would respond.

Agravain looked to be unfazed by the boy's words as he turned to regard the squire. "What your sworn knight says is true." He slowly explained, his eyes hard as he looked at the young noble. "And I would suggest that in the future that you are mindful of your words boy." He gestured to the other knights of Pugione, their sneers and jests clear to see as they mocked the downed form of Ser Gregori. "You'll find that many of my fellows are not so lenient of those that they deem as beneath them. My reasons for my status are my own and I am here because I find Ser Dustriel to be a person of interest." He turned back to look at the giant. "It is he who wishes me here and thus I will stay."

Jibril grinned at the response, patting the free rider on the shoulder when he finished. "Well, any friend of Dust's is a friend of mine." He said, bowing slightly as he continued. "My name is Jibril Shearwards of Fallen Star, a pleasure to meet you Ser Agravain."

The free rider looked at the legionnaire, nodding once as he introduced himself. "Ser Agravain of Willowdale. I hope that we can get along." He then bowed to Dustriel, not looking the man in the eye as he spoke. "I must thank you once again Ser Dustriel. Not many would have the courage to have still ridden against me after the match was called in their favor already."

The giant gestured for the knight to stand straight, offering the knight a smile as he replied. "Well, most just want to win the championship and be done with it." He explained, "I am here to fight and prove myself against the best that Avalon has to offer. I would be remiss if I were to be denied such a fight against a worthy opponent. You ride well Agravain, and I hope that someday we will get the chance to have another match."

"I looked forward to that day Dustriel." The man replied, dropping the honorific. His face lit up in shock when he felt Jibril throw an arm around his shoulders, the Shearwards's face lit up with his usual grin.

"No need to be so gloomy and serious Agravain." Jibril commented, his smile widening as he spoke. "If you aren't careful then your face will be stuck like that and you won't be able to change it." He gestured to his brow, emulating the crease that seemed to be imbedded within the knight's face.

The free rider merely looked at him, shrugging off the man's grip. "Somehow I doubt that that will happen Ser Jibril." He replied, following the giant as he started to leave. "It seems more like something that a child is told so that he does as he is bid."

Jibril hummed at that as he followed behind, his expression one of deep concentration as if pondering the response. Dustriel chuckled at the banter between the two. Truly, there has never been two more different knights in the history of Avalon. He thought, smiling down at his squire and patting the lad on the head. "Good work today Alanas." He said, pride in his eyes as he looked at his squire. "I know that we will have to work a bit more on your swordsmanship but your attentiveness as my squire is something that needs to be acknowledged. You even helped that fool," He pointed to the legionnaire behind them as he continued to jest with Agravain, "though you didn't have to."

Alanas looked down at his feet at the praise. The giant could feel that his words truly touched the boy and for that he was honored. A saying among many of the knights of Avalon that taking in a squire was like taking in a fosterling. They may not be your blood, but they end up feeling much like your own child. For many within the ranks of the Shields, those who had been forced into their ranks when they were still young children, their apprenticed knights no doubt served as parental figures more than the blurry memories of the people who brought them into this world.

"It was nothing Ser Dustriel." The lad said, a light blush on his face as he continued to stare down at his feet. "You requested that I look after the fool's gear and I couldn't rightfully deny you that as your squire. I'm just happy that I was able to be of service."

Dustriel chuckled at that, tussling the boy's hair as he spoke. "Well, I think that the least that I can do is to get you something sweet as a little reward." He replied, hoping to get a response out of the boy. "What would you like?" He asked, gesturing to the numerous stalls that surrounded the street. "As you can see, there are so many to choose from."

The young Amberton merely shook his head at that. "If it is all the same to you Ser, I would much prefer a blade." He said, looking up to the giant with a look of hesitation.

The giant hummed at that, looking thoughtful as he pondered the boy's request. "That shouldn't be too difficult." He said after a few tense moments. "There are many skilled smiths at this Tourney. I am sure that we will be able to find you a good enough blade to serve until you forge your own."

Alanas shook his head at that. "What I meant was, would you be willing to forge me one Master?" He asked, looking up with a pleading look in his eyes. "It would mean a lot to me if you would."

"I suppose." Dustriel replied, nodding once. "However, you will have to forge a blade of your own before I knight you. Remember, a man should have something to do outside of war. When I deem you ready for the forge, you will commit yourself to it. Am I understood?"

The lad nodded eagerly at the response, his smile beaming up at his teacher. "Of course ser! I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

The giant looked back at his two companions as he thought of the issue of arms and armor. He particularly paid note to the shotty armor that Agravain was wearing. While it once might have been serviceable, it still being a suit of power armor after all, he could note all the different dents and scratches. He was ashamed to admit that it was hard to note where he had hit the man in their joust. If he didn't remember clearly where he had hit the free rider then he wouldn't be able to tell them apart from the rest.

"Agravain, when was the last time that you had someone look at that armor of yours?" Dustriel asked, looking concerned. He would hate for the man to lose his life because his armor did not get the proper care that it needed.

The free rider looked up at that comment, tearing his narrowed eyes away from the playful legionnaire. "I am ashamed to admit it, but I do not recall exactly when." He admitted, not looking too concerned with the issue. "I know enough to keep it running but besides that I am not too skilled in the art of smithing. I left that to the smiths of my order as was their duty to looking after our gear."

"Well, I'll have to take a look at it when I get time." Dustriel said, his voice brokering no notion of denial. "A knight should have his gear up in tip top shape after all." He continued, giving the man's armor another look over as they continued walking towards their destination.

"You might as well give into it Agravain." Jibril chimed in, shaking his head at the free rider who looked like he was about to protest against such treatment. "Dust isn't one to be denied once he has his mind set on something." He pointed to the armored giant, his grin widening as he spoke. "Besides, this giant oaf is probably the greatest smith that you will ever see in all of Avalon. Having something worked on by him is a privilege that many are willing to sell their first born for."

"I think that you are exaggerating a bit Jibril." The giant played off, waving a hand at the thought. Sure the nobles that had seen his work were willing to go through much length to try and commission his service, something he would only give out to those that he deemed worth it, but to give up their children for it? He doubted that they would be willing to go that far. He hoped. "Well, looks like we're here." He said, gesturing to the opened pavilion that stretched out before them.

The area was cleaned out of everything, the only furniture being the twelve massive long tables that were reserved for the knights. Each table was reserved for each of the knightly orders though the nobles of each kingdom had their own tables kept away from the seasoned warriors. Already the four could hear the hoots and shouts from the Ice Wraiths as they gathered around a pair of their brothers who seemed to be amid a drinking contest.

The two contestants chugged drink after drink, ale sticking in their beards and on their faces. Both of them sighed as they downed another one. The other knights around the Wraiths simply shook their heads at such a display. While Dustriel could see why such a show was a bit…unusual he could still see that the men of Hiems seemed to be enjoying themselves and having a laugh with their brothers in arms. For that he wouldn't judge the northerners too harshly. If they kept it to themselves and didn't get into a brawl, then let them have their fun he'd say.

"Well gentlemen, I believe that this is where I must bid you farewell." Agravain said, stopping as they reached their destination. "I fear that none of your fellows will want a man like me next to them so…" He didn't get to finish his sentence as he felt the giant clasp him on the shoulder.

Dustriel shook his head at the man's words. "I said that your ransom would be that you would have to spend the rest of the tourney in our company." He explained, gesturing towards the table where the Shields were sitting. Already he could see that many of his brothers were sitting amongst themselves, talking amongst themselves and having a good laugh. "And I meant it. I'm sure that my brothers will be sure to be on their best behavior and not cause any trouble over something so minor. They already deal with this fool daily so I think that they will have learned enough tolerance." He pointed to Jibril who immediately adopted a look of mock offense upon his face.

"Why I never Dust!" The legionnaire exclaimed, huffing a bit in jest. "Well, if anyone does cause us any trouble, I'll be sure to give them a good jab right in the face."

Agravain shook his head at their response. Though it was impossible to tell from his expression, as stoic as it was, Dustriel could feel that the man was grateful for their words. "If you insist then." He replied, walking towards the end of their designated table.

Many of the Shields simply pushed themselves further down towards the other end. It was as if they felt that the man's supposed dishonor would somehow contaminate them if he were too close. Their champion simply shook his head at their response. While he normally didn't mind some of their superstitions, the notion that every free rider was somehow evil incarnate was getting on his nerves.

"Well, I believe that is the best that we can hope for right now." The Shield said, taking a seat next to his new companion, sitting in between him and the men that he called his brothers. He started to pull off whatever food he could find in front of him and piled it on the plate that was left vacant for whoever sat there.

Something that he had noted over the years was that he didn't necessarily need to eat in order to survive. It was a strange thing that he noted, never truly feeling the bite of hunger in his stomach as the people around him did. Normally he would be content with a small slab of meat and a glass of water to get him through the day if he had to. Not to say that he didn't enjoy the many succulent tastes that eating provided.

But today he had been fighting for what seemed like hours on end. So, he thought that he would indulge his gluttony for once. Roasted kobo, freshly baked breads with a variety of cheeses to sample, fresh grapes from Gwent. The list went on and on as to what kinds of food could be found here. If he were grateful to the nobility that travelled to the Grand Tourney, it was that they made sure to bring with them such a large variety of food.

I'll have to see if any merchants from Gwent are still around in the coming days. Dustriel thought, sipping from a cup of wine that he had just poured. He could tell from the sour-almost sweet taste that it was a Gwentian wine. He still had the golden figure he had won during the smithing contest. What better way to spend it than by breaking it down and buying a few barrels to share with his fellow knights? He was sure that they would appreciate the gesture. Not like we get paid a good amount anyways.

"Ah, if I could simply sit back and enjoy this for the rest of our stay here, I could die a happy man." Jibril said, sighing a bit as he downed his goblet of wine. He grinned up at his companions, taking a break away from the pheasant wing he was enjoying. "Anything in particular catch your eye Dust?"

"Hm, I must say that whoever picked this particular kobo had a good eye." The giant said, gesturing to the plate of meat that he had piled up on his plate. He had an entire loaf of bread as well, a good cut of the cheese that was placed next to it. While normally the other Shields would raise a fuss if someone were to eat so much of their bounty, Dustriel was their champion so he was allowed as much as he could stomach. Besides, they've known me since I was a child. They should have learned that I take quite a bit of food.

Agravain looked up from the small plate that he was eating from, gesturing to something coming from behind Jibril. "I believe that we have a few visitors." The man said, pointing with his knife towards the two figures headed this way.

The other three turned to look who it was. Jibril flashing the two a smile while Alanas stared down at his plate, his face red in what appeared to be embarrassment. Dustriel wiped off his face quickly, making sure that he was presentable as he straightened himself up.

"I bid you all a good evening." Valentina said, smiling as she curtseyed to the group. Her sworn shield, Reynard, standing behind her. "I must say that you three rode quite well today."

"You should not undermine yourself my lady." The giant said, nodding in thanks to the compliment. "You swiftly took down your opponent as well. If I recall correctly, he was one of the Rangers of Silvestre correct?" He remembered the dark green emblem of a fox upon the man's pauldron.

"Yes, Ser Greysen." She replied, nodding at the mention. "He was a great rider, had quite the strength behind his blows." She chuckled, patting her upper shoulder a bit where what appeared to be a light bruise.

"But that is not why we are here Ser Dustriel." Reynard added, stepping forward as he nodded his head in greeting. "I believe that you had something for me?"

Dustriel reached onto his belt, pulling off one of the bags that he had hanging there. He threw the bag to the Dawn Knight as he chuckled. "I believe that belongs to you Reynard." He said.

Reynard investigated the bag, nodding once he saw the gold coins. "I believe that you are much too humble for this world Ser Dustriel." He said, shrugging as he pulled out a piece of parchment. "But I do not allow work to go unnoticed." He handed the paper to the Shield, a sly little grin appearing on his face.

"What is this?" The giant asked, taking the piece of paper. He broke the seal on it, noting the two horned stallion that laid embedded into the wax. He took a second to look over the letter, his eyes widening as he realized their meeting. "What is the meaning of this?" He asked, the shock in his voice clear to those that could hear him.

"Well, if you remember I did promise to pay for your next project." Reynard said, his smiling seeming to grow wider as he bounced the coin pouch in his hand. But compared to the worth of the paper in Dustriel's hands, the pouch was worth next to nothing. "That right there is worth quite a pretty piece if I do say so myself. A signed warrant from the Bowsteins of Autumne, I hear that they have quite the deep obsidian mines. They should be able to give you a good bit of material for whatever you want. Hell, you could even make a set of armor and they'd be honor bound to deliver it to Keats so that it could be augmented."

The giant nodded to the explanation. This was an old treaty signed from the Bowsteins to House Astarral. It appeared that the Astarrals had assisted them in the past and had not been able to pay them up front for their services. Indeed, this was meant to be used at a later date in order to demand payment if the current reigning Lord of Lorechester were to put up a fight about it.

Knowing some nobles, I'd say that it was a safe decision to write this old treaty out. He thought, the weight of such an action settling with him.

"This seems a bit much if I am being honest Reynard." Dustriel said, looking hesitant at accepting such a gift.

However, the Dawn Knight simply waved him off, that sincere smile of his honest and pure on his face. "Think nothing of it my friend." Reynard said, "If anything, this seems a bit cheap to me. Making you forge your own armor? But you seemed the stubborn type that won't accept my ransom. When my father spoke to me about my fight, I explained the situation to him. He seemed moved by your sense of honor and insisted that I pay my dues to you. He said, 'You remember what our words are boy?' Reynard mimicked, his voice deepening as he repeated the words his father no doubt said. Wield and Work, remember them well. It means that you work for what you have and take pride in it." He finished, his charge speaking up.

"What he says is true Dustriel." Valentina started, offering the giant a smile as he looked at her. "I know what most people say about our order, that we are pompous and arrogant; that we think the world of ourselves and that we live luxuriously." She continued, shaking her head at the thought. "But if we allowed debts to go unpaid and not to offer a hand in friendship to those who have shown us naught but kindness, then we would spit upon our honor as knights. So I say, please accept this as a token of our friendship." She finished, nodding her head in gratitude.

Dustriel nodded slowly at the request, "If that is your wish." He said, grateful for such a gift. "Then know that House Nuhera does not forget those that we call friend." He stood up, his height making it seem quite silly when he bowed his head to them. But it did not lack the grace that a knight is trained to show.

"Well, the I will wish you good fortune when we meet in our next fight." Valentina said, her smile gracing the party. "I do plan on winning the melee after all. It would be a shame not to see you at your best Ser Dustriel." She looked down at his meal, "I would recommend holding off on the wine until later this evening though. I trust that they will be calling for you here quite soon."

With that the two knights of Gwent left, their presence easing the tension that the four men were feeling.

"I wonder what she meant by that." Agravain said, taking a sip from his goblet. The man had kept his silence as the conversation went on. "Though I trust that it will be solved here shortly."

Jibril nodded at the comment, not looking too shocked at the words. "I take it that she is referring to the meeting between Grand Masters." He explained, putting his glass down as he spoke. "No doubt we will be called there this evening, as is our right."

"It won't shock me too terribly." Dustriel said, putting his goblet aside as well. It would be a shame if he were to show up with half a belly of wine. While he had never been too loose with his wine, until a few of his wilder brothers in arms, he would hate to make the Shields look like fools in front of the other orders of Avalon.

The four conversed for the rest of the meal. While Dustriel and Jibril bantered and joked amongst themselves, Alanas chiming in every now and then to throw in a jab at the legionnaire, Agravain stayed true to his nature and simply silently observed. Though it appeared that the man did not feel anything from his stoic features, the giant could feel from his mind that he was simply taking in their company and enjoying it.

Perhaps that is simply his way. Dustriel thought, silently chuckling at some joke that his friend had given. Well, if the man was enjoying himself, who was he too complain about it?

Soon enough, however, the two knights were soon fetched for. However, it was quite a shock to see who it was that the Bridge Knight had sent. Really, who would send such a renown man as the Snapping Turtle for such a simple errand?

"Alright lads, I believe that you should know what we need you for." Bryden said, walking up behind the giant. It was hard to see him from behind Dustriel, the man's bulky form making it almost impossible to see over him. But the Shield's presence was more than enough to hold any sly comment. "You are called, and you need to answer. Is that clear?" He asked, his voice brokering no argument.

"Of course, Master." Dustriel replied, standing up as soon as the man was done. Even after being released from his squiring days he still snapped to attention whenever the old master called for him. It was hard to be rid of such old habits. "Are you ready Jibril?"

"As ready as I will ever be." The legionnaire said, his walk more akin to that of a lazy cat that had been told to move. However, move he still did. He knew what fate would await him were he to against Ser Bryden. The man's punishments were legendary back at the Iron River for a reason. "Please lead the way Snapping Turtle."

Bryden nodded his head at the reply, turning to lead the boy's away from the banquet. There would be time for festivities later. Now, they were to prepare for the days where they would have to lead their respective orders.

---

The three silently walked towards their destination. Normally, the two younger knights would offer some comment or question to where they would be going. However, they could tell from the master's posture that he was in no mood to humor them today. No, this was strictly business and they would need to act accordingly.

It wasn't long until they reached the tent. Unlike the others, this one was a solid and plain white. While the other tents had either a banner tied to them or the colors of their house or order proudly shown to the others, this one saw as blank as they come. It was as if it were an empty canvas and it would only take someone little effort to make it whatever they wanted.

However, no one here would be foolish enough to try and pull something like that. Someone could take that the wrong way and that slight could easily escalate to something that neither party wanted.

"I don't think that I need to state this." Ser Bryden said, turning to look at his two charges. His eyes were dead serious, like two slabs of jade through which no emotion could be seen. "But do not, and I repeat" He turned to look at Jibril, his voice blank as he spoke. "DO NOT, speak unless you are directly spoken to. You two are walking into a battlefield. But not one of swords and knights, no this battlefield is to be fought with words and favors. Remember, you two are the future of your orders. You will be expected to learn how to navigate such situations. This is going to be the first of such lessons. Act as a knight of your realm should and all shall be well." The old man turned to leave; his eyes still hard as he bowed slightly to the two. "I wish you good fortune in the battle to come."

The two turned back to the tent, Dustriel taking point as they entered. The first thing that they noticed was the large circular table that sat in the middle of the room. Around it was were twelve seats, each for one of the orders that called Avalon home. There was the turtle and bridge of the shields, the soaring gryphon of the Silver Legion, the quill and parchment of the Parchment Knights of Keats, and the rising sun of the Knights of Dawn.

The two could see the respective masters of four of the orders already gathered in their seats. They seemed to be conversing amongst themselves, looking to be negotiating some sort of deal. Though that quickly stopped as the two knights approached.

"Ah Dustriel, it is good to see you again lad." Jeremiah said, offering a friendly smile to the giant as he approached. The Lord Commander seemed to be in good spirits, his smile genuine. It was good to see a happier side of the man though it was said that the most memorable event Dustriel could remember was being berated by the man.

"It is good to see you as well Lord Commander." The giant said, offering a bow to the man. It was always good to meet the man that he had idolized as a boy. Even now, the commander seemed to be on an entirely different level when compared to him.

"Ha, none of that my boy." Jeremiah replied, waving off Dustriel's bowed form. "It is good to see the both of you here." He continued, his eyes wandering to Jibril who he nodded to. "It will be good practice when you have to sit in these seats yourselves."

"Which will not be for some time thankfully." Catherine interjected, seeing where the conversation seemed to be headed. "Boys, I would like you to meet Ser Brianus the Illuminator, the Grand Archivist of Keats." She introduced, offering an open hand to said knight.

Ser Brianus seemed to be quite young for his position. From his low-cut brown hair, his well-polished armor, his eyes which spoke openly of his thoughts and emotion. It seemed as if the man had been raised in isolation, not allowed much outside influences while growing up. Though knowing Keats known seclusion from the outside world, aside from offering out their power armor and defending their borders, this was not too big of a surprise.

"I must say that you strike quite the figure." Brianus said, looking Dustriel over thoroughly with his eyes. While such an act would normally cause anyone some discomfort, the way the man did it had no ill intent. No, he was merely curious about the giant. "No doubt some genetic modifying of some sort." He muttered to himself, nodding a few times as he continued his observation.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Grand Archivist." Dustriel said, bowing deeply to the man. While his quirks seemed to be a little strange, he could tell that the man seemed to have some keen insight. Indeed, he could tell from his thoughts that he was already running through multiple scenarios on his origins. Perhaps he will find something. He thought, amused by the prospect. He already knew his origins and what they would spell in the future.

"Ah yes, forgive me." Brianus said, snapping out of his trance like state. "Whenever I see something odd, I get like that. When I was a boy first joining the Citadel, I would get up in a little bit of trouble." He chuckled a bit, the action seeming to break the tension a bit.

"Yes, Dust strikes quite the figure, doesn't he?" Jibril chimed in, patting the giant on the shoulder. "We still can't figure out what he was fed in order to get him this big. If we did then we would have more amazing warriors like him."

"We were just discussing a story of his order's origins." Jeremiah offered, chuckling at his son's comment. "Apparently, if you believe that story then the Parchment Knights followed one of the Witch Queen's most trusted advisors."

"The Witch Queen?" The giant asked, looking puzzled. He had always heard stories of her exploits, most notably her knowledge of the runes and their use. However, he had never heard tale of anyone claiming a direct relationship. "Is this true?" He asked, turning to the Grand Archivist.

The man offered a nod, stroking the small goatee that he had no doubt been cultivating. "Yes it is." He said, his voice offering no argument to the contrary. "The man that would one day to found us was a man of deep insight and skill in the regards of machinery. It is thanks to him that we were able to create the great Citadel of Sirenchester."

"Was it named after him?" Jibril asked, looking intrigued.

However, Brianus merely shook his head at that. "It brings me great shame to say but his name has been lost to us over the years. Indeed, many of the orders who claim descendants from such great men who served the Queen has been lost to the ages. What we do know is that he went by the title Architect and thus that has been what we have called him over the years." He nodded at that, "Yes, the man was without equal when it came to the development of anything mechanical. Many of the great weapons that we have today can be traced back to his greatness."

"Such as?" Dustriel asked, raising an eyebrow at such a claim. He had heard so many stories of a similar fashion that he couldn't help but be a bit skeptical.

"Such as that glaive that you carry on your back good ser." The Archivist replied, pointing to the weapon that the giant was carrying. "While some things are a bit more widespread nowadays, not to mention the various bits of tech that are used as bargaining chips in our dear tourneys." His voice made it clear that he wasn't too fond of such a thing. "But I have noted the improvements that have sprung up over the years." His eyes drifted to Catherine; his eyes intrigued as he shifted the conversation.

"Yes, something that we can negotiate later on." Catherine replied, her face stoic. The giant knew the reason for such a response. If word were to get out about his adjustments to the armaments of their order, then there was no telling what the Parchment Knights would do. They were always an envious lot when it came to technology. They would be willing to do whatever it took in order to get their hands on more tech.

"However, I believe that it is prudent that we pay attention to our fellows." The Bridge Knight continued, nodding towards the entrance as the rest of the various grand masters of Avalon entered.

The Ice General, Ser Merek, entered first. The man seemed to be laughing at something his compatriot said as he clapped the man on the back. He wore his large great sword on his back, supposedly a blade that had been passed down from the original Devil of the North. Behind him his champion carried a flag barring the sigil of the Ice Wraiths, a shadowy demon bound in chains of ice.

Next to Merek walked Ser Kokabiel, Grand Marshal of the Desert Templars. The templar's tanned skin and dark hair stood in stark contrast to the pale knight of the North. However, he didn't seem to mind as he clapped the man on the back as he laughed alongside him. Marshal Kokabiel, or the Brass Deathstalker as his men called him, was as battle hungry as the northerner from what Dustriel was able to recall. The deep scars running jagged down the man's arms a testament to the man's courage and skill. Behind him his champion waved the flag of the knight order of Indiligens, the image of the sandstorm aligned much like a constellation, the hidden image of a sword clear to see for those that knew where to look.

Following the two stood another pair. However, while the former seemed like a perfect match, the next two seemed to be quite the opposite.

First was the elderly looking figure of the Guardian of Serpents, the grandmaster of the Hospitallers of the Winged Serpent. Ser Gudram slowly walked his way within the confines of the tents, his attendant the feathered masked Cockatrice that the giant had fought earlier that very day. While it might have been amusing to see to an outsider, no one dared to speak a word against the elderly knight. Many had heard tales of the Old Basilisk in his youth, how the man had fought his way all across Anguis and how the Church of the Winged Serpent had pleaded with the man to abandon the life of the wandering knight and take up the role of their sworn protector when their last Lord of High Hospitaller had died.

Ser Gregori carried the banner of their order with pride, his face obscured by the mythical beast that their church so despised with a passion. The winged serpent which devoured its own tail stood proudly among the rest of the assembled orders.

Lastly, the man who was holding this year's Grand Tourney was the last one to make his entrance. Alongside him stood a man that could only be described as a rogue, the cocky smirk on the man's face all but cementing the notion in Dustriel's mind.

Ser Terryn Somberset was undeniably the youngest member of the assembled masters. While such a thing would not be unbecoming, to most the grandmaster of the order was chosen by his fellow knights for embodying the ideals and virtues that they stood for. However, Ser Terryn had a somber expression for one that had not even lived for twenty-five springs. The man's blonde hair seemed dull and his gray eyes sharp as a hawk of Saltum. He held the dragon horned helm that Dustriel had smithed in his offhand, the other on his sword's hilt. Behind him his squire carried the banner of the bronze dragon next to the golden helmed knight of his order. The young boy seemed somewhat familiar to the giant though he could not recall from which he had encountered him.

Lastly, the roguish looking man seemed to look about the place. Dustriel could feel the man look him up and down a few times, barely a second or two, before he moved his attention onwards. He didn't carry himself the way that a knight of Avalon should. No, by the light armor and daggers at his belt he could tell that the man had never fought the way that a knight would.

This must be one of the infamous mercenaries of Fidelitas. The giant thought, his eyes narrowed a bit as the sellsword smirked at him.

He had heard stories of their lot many times growing up on the River. Apparently, Fidelitas was a land that thrived on the numerous mercenary bands that roamed the kingdom. They would sell their services to any of the nobles that would be able to pay for them. It made it quite easy for the nobility of the land to plunder one another's lands, the sellswords getting rich on the easy plunder and the noble's not having to lose any of their men when their rival's retaliated. Normally such a land would have torn itself apart at this point. However, from what he had heard the mercenary bands would also sell their services to others outside of Fidelitas. Dustriel supposed that was one way to keep the nobility from outright buying everyone of them and conquering the land for themselves.

However, something that displeased the giant was the banner that the man had waving behind him. The image of the crescent moon hanging high over a range of mountains, the pitch-black backdrop made it seem as if this image was set at the dead of night. No, it was the fact that the man had the audacity to not only come here, a meeting deemed only for knights, but that he would much them by copying their traditions. As if to say that he was one of them as well.

"Well, I think that it is time that we start our discussions don't you all agree?" Lady Aldreda Fairbrook stated, allowing the new attendants to take a seat. The Red Rose had been quiet this entire time, allowing the others to discuss amongst themselves as she simply listened. Valentina, who stood as her champion, mimicked her mother's act and did the same. The only reply that Dustriel got out of her was a small smile and a nod.

"Well, the first thing I would like to know is who the hell is this sellsword you brought into our midst?" Jeremiah asked, looking sternly across the table at Terryn and his companion. The Lord Commander was levelling the two with a rather fiery glare. Though to say that he was the only one would be misleading. Most of the grandmasters except for Merek and Kokabiel seemed to be shooting the pair dirty looks.

"I have the right to bring whoever I wish to our talks Jeremiah." Terryn replied, his face and voice blank as he replied to the comment. "Besides, should a representative from each of the orders of Avalon not be present? You'll find that Holden has more than earned the right to sit at this table." His words brokered no compromise on this front. Though most at the table could understand why. Not many wanted to work with the Golden Helms after the fiasco that they had caused all those years ago. The only reason that they even continued to exist was thanks to the mercy of the last Lord Bridge Knight.

"Speaking of which, aren't we missing a few of our compatriots?" Terryn continued, turning to look at the three empty seats that laid unoccupied. "Where is Head Ranger Ulric and High Warden Giles? The Crownguard's absence I can understand, they have always been a pompous lot after all."

Merek barked loudly at that, "Ha, as if you're one to talk Terryn." He said, shaking his head at the man's comment. "As for Ulric and Giles, didn't you hear? That little group of brigands in Silvestre has had those two locked down tighter than a virgin in Pugione. Apparently, the so-called Brotherhood isn't the group of weaklings that Ulric thought that they were."

Catherine cleared her throat at that, her action silencing any other conversation. "Now, I think that it is prudent that we get down to business as Aldreda suggested." She nodded towards the Fairbrook matriarch. "Are there any outstanding concerns that should be brought before the council?" She asked, looking around the table. Each of the nine knights looked as if they had something to say. No doubt some minor breach of their order's honor or a land dispute. Such was the common arguments that escalated too many times at the meeting.

"I have one." Terryn said, drawing the attention of everyone. "I have had a report that you and your Shields were responsible for slaughtering an entire platoon of my knights. I even have a witness that can testify to the giant that you keep in your employ." The man's gray eyes snapped to Dustriel, narrowing a bit as they looked him up and down a bit. "I would like compensation for that."

"Yeah, and I would like to shove my sword up your ass for the bull that Cadmus pulled before the weakling croaked." Merek interjected, banging the table with his fist. "If anything can be taken from your history with the Shields, I would guess that you lot tried to mount another attack on their bridge. What, did the first time not teach you the folly of such an action?"

"While I do appreciate your input Ice General." Jeremiah said, raising a hand in Merek's direction, as if to quell the man's argument from a distance. "I think that such things should not be brought up so easily. How about you let those that fought that day speak up for themselves?" He offered, his tone betraying a bit of anger at the man's outburst. The Lord Commander looked to Dustriel, an eyebrow raised as he spoke. "Well lad, is what he said true?"

"Jibril and I were on guard duty the day that Ser Rainier and his troops sought to attack us." The giant stated, giving his report as his eyes turned to look at the squire that stood meekly behind Terryn. "When the man threatened me and my charges, I told him in simple terms that if he were to try and push the subject that he would pay with his life. He didn't heed my words and sought to attack us. As soon as he did, I slaughtered every man underneath his command except for his young squire."

The room was deadly silent after the report was given. While such things were not out of the norm, there was always some upstart knight who thought it wise to attack one of the nearby orders in some vain attempt at glory and riches. The way that the giant spoke, the detached voice as he mentioned the men that he had killed. It sent a shiver down many of the spines of the gathered seasoned warriors.

"Well, I suppose that settles that." The sellsword said, breaking the tension. "They attacked you and you killed them for it. It seems very cut and dry to me."
Terry turned to look at the man, giving the mercenary a scathing look. "What is so simple about that?" He asked, his eyes betraying a hint of rage. Dustriel could feel the man's anger at his associate, as if the man had betrayed him deeply for the comment. "My men are dead-"

"Because they thought it a good idea to attack THAT." The rogue cut the man off, gesturing to the giant as he spoke. "If anyone was stupid enough to charge at a man that size then he deserves to have his head cut off. The spirits know that he wasn't using his brain for much."

"Ha, was the first time getting your asses kicked not good enough for you noble?" Merek spat, his eyes two glaciers as he glared at the Golden Helm. "If it were up to me then you dishonorable southerners would be in the grave and be down with it. Just like the good old Greedy Dragon." He smirked at Terryn, the Somberset looking as if he wanted to stab the man for the comment as he gritted his teeth.

"My Uncle did no wrong that day, it was the Shields that broke our agreement and murdered my predecessor in cold blood." Terryn replied, glaring back at the northerner.

While Dustriel would normally state that such an accusation was a lie, for it had to be, he could find no deception in the man's mind. Terryn believed the words that he spoke with his very being. The outrage at how the Ice General was so quick to dishonor his uncle's memory, were it anyone else then Dustriel would feel sympathy for the man. And yet despite himself, the giant couldn't help but respect the man for sticking to his belief. I fear that things might not be as cut and dry as I am used to.

"Speaking of the Giant of the River," Kokabiel spoke up, giving the giant an inquisitive look as he spoke. "Who exactly did you grow to such a large size? By the Witch Queen, I don't know what you've been fed on the Iron River, but I'd be willing to give just about anything to get some of it."

"Yes, I find myself curious as well." Brianus interjected, leaning forward a bit as he gave Dustriel a second look over. "From what I can gather the Iron River doesn't have the equipment needed in order to produce knights at such an impressive size. Not to mention the skill in which he fights."

As the many different grand masters started to whisper and discuss amongst themselves their fascination with him, Dustriel could only feel a bit awkward at such probing. He had nothing to tell them to silence their questions, they meant to harm with them as far as he could tell. Even Ser Terryn looked a bit interested in his response. It wasn't until the Old Basilisk raised his hand that everyone quieted down.

"I think that it is clear to see that this is no doubt the work of the spirits." Gudram stated, looking up at Dustriel with appraising eyes. He stared for a few seconds, nodding slowly as he seemed to find what he was looking for. "We have all seen things in this world that can be quite out of the ordinary. However, if you ask me then Ser Dustriel seems to be just as fit and noble a warrior that the Shields teach them to be."

"Thank you, Guardian of Serpents." Catherine replied, nodding to the elderly man. "I must say that your words honor my order. I did not know that our influence has spread all the way to Anguis, but it pleases me to hear that even on the other side of Avalon that the exploits of our brothers are told."

"Aye, though I must admit that I was a bit disappointed at today's jousting." The elderly knight admitted, looking behind himself at his champion. "I was hoping that Gregori would be able to prove himself to the rest of the knights of Avalon. I must say that your lad was quite skilled to knock him into the dirt so easily. My dear boy has garnered quite a reputation after all."

His voice was warm and friendly, a stark contrast to the barbed words that seemed to be exchanged amongst the other leaders. The only thing that he seemed to carry was fondness and pride for his chosen champion. That was something that Dustriel could respect.

"Ser Gregori rode well today." The giant interjected, nodding to the masked Hospitaller. He seemed to garner the attention of those assembled, no doubt wanting to hear what he had to say on the matter. It was no secret that he was one of the contenders as champion of the Grand Tourney. His words carried the weight that such a position demanded. "I think that if he were to have ridden against any other then he would have stood a strong chance of winning this time around."

"And you believe that you will Ser Dustriel?" Gudram asked, raising an eyebrow at such a statement. While normally such words could be taken as arrogance and foolhardy, the giant simply knew them to be true. The Old Basilisk didn't seem too angered by his words. It merely seemed as if he wanted Dustriel's honest opinion.

"I would like to believe that is true." He replied, nodding to the old Hospitaller. His words were clear and straight. However, they also had a sense of humility that seemed to be quite persuasive to the assembled knight lords of Avalon. It was as if every word out of the man's mouth simply made sense to them, that his logic was without fall. "However, I also know that there are many here that have travelled just as far and fought as hard as I to gain the strength and skill that they possess. If I were to fall against someone like Ser Gregori or any other true knight of Avalon, then I would happily do so. If he fought me with an honest blade and a true heart."

Gudram chuckled at that, looking back to the feathered mask knight that was his champion. "What do you say to that Gregori?" He asked, sounding a bit amused.

"I'd say," The Hospitaller replied, looking up at the giant. It was hard to get a feel on his emotion, but he didn't seem too intimidated by the difference in their stature. "That I'll put you in the dirt next we meet Shield."

The Old Basilisk laughed loudly at that. He looked up at Dustriel, that same kind smile on his face. "Well, I think that Gregori has taken a shine to you good ser. Then I wish you luck in the rest of your bouts. It is hard to find a Shield with a bite to him that he can back up."

Jibril chuckled at that. The giant merely giving the legionnaire a look before he bowed his head to the old Hospitaller. "I thank you for your kind words. If you ever need anything know that I am more than willing to assist in any way that I can."

"You should be careful with making promises like that lad." Jeremiah said, giving Dustriel a look before turning back to the assembled grandmasters. "Well, now that is settled," His voice allowed no argument to that fact as he looked about the table, "Are there anymore topics that need to be discussed? Know that any grievances will be held and judged accordingly. I suggest that you do not bring something up for the simple act of trying to make a rival look bad."

With that the various grandmasters put forth their own personal problems. For some it was a problem of one of the other's seeking to expand their influence. These concerns were silenced as a neighboring kingdom would be tasked with keeping an eye on the conflict and reporting back to the council if it were deemed enough of a problem.

For others it was the topic of what rights and privileges would be given to an up and coming order of knights in one of the kingdoms. Sometimes such fighting orders could simply be given a keep and made to act as a subordinate to the already established order. In the case of Fidelitas, such fighting orders rose and fell as easy as the harvest grew and harvested grain. It was simply not worth the effort to try and establish ties with a fleeting mercenary band that won't be there for another month.

Lastly, the topic of old treaties and alliances was brought up. Most of the ties between the various orders was built by convenience and mutual trust for short periods of time. The Shields of the River and the Silver Legion were the exception to this of a degree. It was something that had been built up over the years and many generations cultivated it over the years. Now, the bonds between the two were good and strong. The only other case that could be said to be similar was that of the Ice Wraiths and the Desert Templars. From what Dustriel could tell Merek and Kokabiel seemed to be as close as any other pair of battle brothers.

Thank the spirits that their kingdoms are in completely different places. The giant thought, suppressing any emotion at the idea of the two creating truly lasting bonds. The two had a battle lust within that would be a sight to be fearful of on the battlefield. However, with the Wraiths in the icy alps of Hiems and the Templars in the desert wastes of Aeratus. How two men from such differing orders and kingdoms could get along so well he would never know. However, hopefully nothing too deadly would come of it.

Dustriel's eyes shifted to Ser Terryn and Holden Dunne. If he had garnered anything from their minds, it was that the alliance of the Shields and the Silver Legion was something they were trying to replicate in their own orders. He could tell that Terryn seemed to be an ambitious individual, that he craved prowess and reputation. However, he knew that the man did not do this for himself. No, he did this for the good of the Golden Helms and the memory of his predecessor. That was something that the giant could respect.

However, he would be sure to keep an eye on the two in the future.

"Is there any other business before we adjourn for the night?" Catherine asked, looking a bit weary as she looked among the others. They had already spent hours going back and forth on what needed to be discussed. Dustriel could feel the relief coming from her as no one raised another topic. They needed their rest for the night if they were to continue with the tourney.

"Well, I think that just leaves the banquet at the end of all this and the grand melee if I recall." The Bridge Knight continued, looking at Terryn as she spoke. "I trust that you will be able to take care of this Terryn?"

The Golden Helm nodded in response, his eyes holding the same tired look. "Yes yes, I will be sure to get my men on it as soon as the sun rises. We have already done everything that needs to be done and I will make sure that they do not shrink their duties." He stood up, looking around the table as he continued to speak. "If that is all then I will be returned to my quarters. I believe that we have gotten everything that we could have done tonight. If things continue this way then I will be pleased to say that this tourney was a success."

With that Terryn turned, Holden following the man, and then withdrew from the tent. The other grand masters followed his example, bidding each other good night as they collected their banners and withdrew to their part of camp.

Dustriel was the last person to leave the tent. He made sure to keep an eye out for all of those that weren't aligned to either the Legion or the Shields. As they withdrew, he gave each of them a quick scan of their minds.

One day he would be expected to fill the position of Lord Bridge Knight. From what he could tell the position was not one where only strength and skill of arms would allow you to excel. No, what he had seen tonight was a different form of battle altogether. One he would be more than prepared for.

Okay, so I know that it's been a while. I am sorry about that but my muse decided that it wanted to branch out a bit and see what other worlds had to offer. Now I am working on this story along with another one based of the world of Highschool DxD. Now, I know I'm getting to get called trash but the main character is sort of based off of Konrad Curze so, eh it kind of evens out.

I'm going to be holding off on answering any questions/comments this time around. I am simply not in the mood for it right now and if you want to ask me anything directly then shoot me a PM. Now, onto the footnote and I'll wrap this thing up!

-Parchment Knights

The Parchment Knights of Keats are known for their great skill with technology, harnessing and learning all that they could to what scraps of technology could be found on Avalon. In the days of old they were simply researchers and mercenaries, men and women who simply wished to be left alone to their craft, but as they gained in knowledge and resources the nobles of Keats took notice. The Parchment Knights were elevated to the knightly order of Keats and were allowed great prestige as long as they protected their lands and shared whatever knowledge they could with their overlords. This fostered a sense of resentment among the men, hating that they were essentially forced to fight and die for battles that were not their own so thus only begrudgingly shared their weapons and most importantly, their power armor variants. However, once King Dustriel met with them a deal was struck. If they would fight for him, swear their allegiance to a united Avalon and protect Keats, they would be allowed to research to their hearts content and any new technology would be turned over to them. Whatever exchange that was done between King Dustriel and Grand Scholar Brianus the Illuminator, though we do know that Ser Brianus has always been a stout follower of the King of Knights though his insistence to not work with the Mechnaicum of Mars has caused some tension between the Priests of Mars and the Eleventh Legion.

Sigil: A piece of parchment with a quill dipped in ink

Motto: Knowledge at any cost

Country: Keats

Grandmaster title: Grand Archivist