From my Blood

Note: I did weeks of research on Knighthood, Pages, Squires, and such before I started writing this. Unfortunately, most of the information I gathered was based on the 13th century. Soul Calibur's story takes place during the late 16th century.
I don't quite think it was good enough information, but I decided to just start writing it based on the information I already had. I'm not very smart in the everyday life of a 16th century German knight.

Oh yeah, and thanks to a few friends and Daniel for helping me on some stuff.
This fanfic will also be updated frequently, so it's not one of those one-shot-story kind of things like my usual fanfics. Okay, please enjoy.

Chapter 1:

Siegfried grumbled, as his hands were burning from all the cargo he had been carrying. He winced and took a break, sitting on the end of the wooden carrier. He unstrapped and removed the elegantly leather sewed gloves, running his arm across his forehead and letting out a sigh. Black traces of charcoal was smeared down his face, making a messy wet blend with the sweat that dripped down his chin.
It was a busy day, he was far to overly worked. It seemed every bone and muscle in his body ached when he went to sleep and when he woke up. He was a small and frail teenager, at a tender age of fifteen. His father was always gone. Siegfried didn't even know where his father was most of the time, when he would ask his Mother, she'd smile and look at him with bright eyes, and continue doing whatever she was doing.
Siegfried was enraged and sick of it. The town priest called him a devious little tyrant and sensed something so dark that lurked in his soul. It was true he had a lot of hatred built up. Hatred for the world, his father and his duties. Most of it supported his upbringing. His childhood was far from glorious. He was often neglected and never cared for. His father was harsh and strict on the small child, but did it out of love. His Mother would always be scolded if she dared interfere with his training. He began resenting his Faust and his training.

But he decided he wouldn't care of it to much. He never talked about himself to anyone. He hardly even talked to anyone at all. Siegfried wasn't exactly the type you could get closed to. He had a witty sarcastic personality, which continuously made him fall in disfavor with his peers. But he cared nothing of the sort, as long as it would keep those goody idiots that were always sucking up to the brave knights away from him.
He realized that he had been laying on the carrier for quite a while and slowly sat up, groaning and using his arms to support him. He still ached, but knew his work wasn't finished yet. He slowly stood to his feet, his legs quivering from his overly worked muscles and proceeded to breath heavy and heave a big tied up block of hay over his shoulder. He was relieved that the sun was beginning to set and the sky turned into beautiful shades of purple and orange. It meant he could soon return back to his room and fall asleep.
He hurried down the streets of the village, partially avoided hitting into others. He hurried down the dirt road, panting. He looked a dirty mess and would need a bath. Charcoal stained clothes and black smudged down his skin. His hair was messy and slicked back from his sweating forehead. But he got to the small barn and without interacting with anyone. Panting, Siegfried gazed around to see if anyone was in sight and dropped the big block of hay from his shoulder, making a rather loud thump, startling the chickens that were fluttering all around the farm.
"Notwendigkeit Schlaf..." Siegfried muttered as he stretched his arms and lazily sat his butt down onto the stack of hay, his legs thumping up in the air, then his feet hitting the ground. He mumbled under his breath, his words not quite clear enough to understand as he reached to a small pouch that hung at his side and opened it, digging through it until he felt what he had been looking for. He pulled his hand up, pulling up a big red apple. He stretched his arms and shook his head back and fourth lazily and pulled his knee up to it was just an inch from touching his chin as the heel of his shoe rested on the edge of the hay. He took a bite from the apple, as he sat there and watched as the sun was going down. He really didn't feel like returning home.

Siegfried didn't have really any people he could call his friends. People so easily got on his nerves to much for him to maintain any friends. Most of his peers and superiors respected him, but others thought he was just an arrogant boy with nothing better to do than take his anger out on violence or theft. He was a troublemaker no doubt and was constantly giving his Mother more than a few headaches to worry about.
He constantly crunched down on the apple, his dirty hands were dirtying the apple, but he didn't really care. He was starving, without anything to eat all day. He just slipped an apple in his left pouch of his pants after walking by a small fruit stand at the edge of the town.
After finishing the apple he tossed the core over his shoulder and stretched once more before standing up and making his way home. It was almost dark and all the candles that lit the streets were starting to fade. Siegfried knew he was going to be in trouble for getting home after dark, but as he did with everything else, didn't care. He pulled his hands behind his head and walked at a steady pace, drifting off in his own thoughts.

He let out a small yawn as he entered his home. His Mother was no where in sight, as he lightly unbuckled his belt and laid it down so that it made no sound, then pulled his tunic out of his pants and pulled it over his head, laying it down on top the belt. He looked around their home a bit more, then hurried to his room, without so much as cleaning himself up.
"Holy mother of God! What is that smell?!" Siegfried heard a yell and stopped in his tracks before he could even flop onto his bed.
His Mother then entered his room and in an instant snatch, grabbing his arm and pulled him from his room and began dragging him outside. Siegfried snarled and growled, he hated being treated like a baby and he didn't think he smelled so bad. It was his Mothers way of showing affection he guessed. She pulled him outside and grabbed the sides of her dress and neatly sat down, undoing his pants and removing his boots. Siegfried calmly sat down on the hard stoned floor, almost falling over from his Mother disrobing him.
He sat with his legs neatly crossed, as his Mother poured a bucket of freezing water over his head, making him soaked. He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.
"Mother! It's freezing!" the sound of his teeth clamping together.
"It would've been warm if you had gotten home earlier." His Mother replied, pouring another bucket of freezing water over his head and scrubbing his face with a piece of cloth, cleaning the smeared charcoal. He quickly adapted to the cold water though and let his Mother scrubbed him. He was always so stubborn and would never bath or clean himself. He always smelled like road kill when he got home from work, which left his Mother to clean him up.

She scrubbed him until she felt he was clean enough and proceeded to stand and walk back inside the house and grab some scented oils to hide his filthy smell. Siegfried quivered from the water and hung his head low. He began to sit up, but noticed his Mother wasn't finished with him and starred at her with a slightly opened mouth. She held her long dress up a bit to avoid getting it wet, because of the soaked stoned ground.
She poured small drops of oil in her palm from the tiny containers and rubbed the oils into his cheeks and shoulders with a small smile on her face. Siegfried squinted as pressure applied to his face. He growled back in his mind at the thought of his Mother making him smell like a girl. He'd probably run off early next morning and roll around in the dirt and filth to get the smell off him, his Mother would predict. Siegfried was much to stubborn to show any signs of respect towards his elders.
"You smell better now, you should get to bed mein Sohn." his Mother dried him off, as he began changing in new clean clothes. He yawned a bit, but refused to admit he was tired and worn out. His eyes could barely stay half opened, as he pulled on a pair of baggy white pants and buckled them up and retreated back to his room.
He had delicate bright blue eyes and thick blonde hair with long bangs that was curled around his forehead and sometimes hung over his eye, while it was very short and kept well in the back. His Mother never really had time for him and didn't specially give him much attention, only every here and there. When she wouldn't cut his hair, he did it himself.
He curled up in his bed and pulled his sheets over himself, still quivering, but shortly yawned and fell fast to sleep.