Series: Knight Tales||Title: Birth of a Knight
Characters: Shou, Barbamon||Romance: N/A
Chapters: 2-9||Words: 1,410||Total: 2,854
Genre: Drama, Angst||Rated: PG
Notes: This is an AU. A nice fantasy one. Written for remi.
Summary: Shou is the only survivor of the bloodthirsty raid on his hometown. Not even Peckmon made it. Desire for revenge keeps him going and the assistance of Barbamon gives him the tools he needs to gain what he searches for. For as Barbamon's Knight and Champion, he can make it all right again.


When he opened his eyes again, instead of the familiar roof of his family's cottage or even the starry heavens he'd seen on occasions when he was out with Peckmon, he saw a marble ceiling overhead. He turned his head from one side to the other, but what little he could see told him only the barest facts.

He was in a room of some size, with candles set in scones on the walls, candles that gave out more light than they should have. There were well-made tapestries on the walls as well, but of scenes he didn't recognize. He lay in a warm, comfortable bed, far more so than any he'd ever encountered before.

Moment by moment, memories flickered back into his mind. It didn't take long. There weren't many of them. Waking in the ruins of the village. Seeing all the signs that some kind of an attack happened there, leaving boundless death and destruction in their wake.

Realizing that he was the only survivor. Not even Peckmon had made it through.

A fresh memory, wholly unconnected from anything else, flickered into place: Peckmon standing before a powerful reptile Digimon of some kind, one that moved almost as quickly as he had, blocking its way to the cottage, while he'd screamed, trying to get Peckmon to leave, they needed to get help, to get -

He didn't remember more than that. A single blast of furious fire, Peckmon between him and the Digimon, and then everything faded into a nightmare of shadows and torment.

And when he'd awoken then, wounds he didn't remember getting, and a struggle to fight and breathe.

Then the new Digimon came. He recalled their leader's name: Barbamon. Barbamon-sama, he amended to himself. The Digimon had ordered his subordinates to heal him, a peasant boy on the verge of death.

We could be of use to each other.

He didn't know what Barbamon-sama could want with him, but the thought of revenge hung sharp in his mind, edging his every memory. He would never be right again until he could gain that. He would never feel himself again until he knew that all the ones who'd taken everything from him could never do it again to another living soul.

Slowly he looked down and lifted the blanket over him, morbidly curious to see what the wounds were like. Sorcerimon had done some kind of magic, but he didn't know if it just eased his pain or actually healed the injuries themselves.

What he saw surprised him: smooth flesh, without even a scar to mar him. He still didn't feel strong enough to get up and do anything, but for all he could tell, the raid had been nothing more than an especially bad dream.

A door opened, quite close, and he looked up in time to see Sorcerimon approach him.

"Good evening, young human," the healer mage greeted as he came close enough to be heard. "Do you feel well enough to give me your name?"

He opened his mouth, more than ready to ask questions and get answers, but nothing came out. He tried again. Nothing changed. Not even a single sound escaped. He stared at Sorcerimon with rising panic, spreading his hands in a desperate attempt to explain what he didn't understand.

Sorcerimon tilted his head in thought, then brandished his staff, ice-blue runes appearing over the bed, circling around boy and Digimon alike. He said nothing else, but watched the runes as they crisscrossed, some changing to others, a handful of them switching colors, until he finally dismissed them altogether.

"I will have to report this to Barbamon-sama," he said, words measured and considering. "What I can be certain of right now is that I have healed all of your wounds and injuries. It has been three weeks since we found you."

His eyes widened; three weeks? Why did he then feel if he'd slept only one night?

Perhaps something of that reflected in his expression. At any rate, Sorcerimon's next words explained, to some degree.

"I kept you asleep all this time. The energy to heal you came from you yourself, which meant the best way for you to recover was to sleep."

Sorcerimon stepped closer. "You may still fall asleep at odd hours for some time, until your body has fully adjusted to no longer being on the brink of death. When you are ready, Barbamon-sama will speak to you. As you may remember, he feels you and he can be of assistance to one another. But that is something you will have to decide on your own."

He moved back. "I will have food brought. You'll need all that you can get to recover your strength fully."

No sooner had he left than the boy found his eyes closing and sleep once again stealing over him. He didn't stir again until something fragrant brushed against his nose and he opened his eyes to see what it was.

Food. Soup, carried in by a Floramon.

He'd known a Floramon who worked at the town tavern. Bright and happy and an excellent cook, she'd greeted him and Peckmon every day when they'd passed by. Now she was gone. She might reconfigure into an egg; most Digimon did that. But her data might not ever become the Floramon he'd known. Digimon didn't always become the same Digimon if they were reborn.

For that matter, if Peckmon reconfigured, even if he found his partner again, he would probably not be Peckmon again. Even if he was, he wouldn't be his Peckmon again. Not the one who he'd known for so many years.

All of that passed through his mind in the briefest of seconds, as Floramon brought the bowl of soup and a tall glass of ice water over to his bed. She smiled at him as she settled it on a bedside tray he hadn't really noticed until now.

"Here you go!" She merrily chirped. "Do you need any help eating it?"

He didn't know. He couldn't seem to talk anymore; what else had changed? He shrugged and started to reach for the soup carefully. Until he knew, he would assume he could do something.

His hand shook, spilling a little of the soup, but he managed to get enough into his mouth to satisfy his hunger, and the water to slake his thirst. Floramon carried the dishes away, wishing him well, and he tried to rest again, hoping for more answers when he woke up.


Barbamon listened intently to Sorcerimon's report of the boy's condition. For the last three weeks he'd heard regular updates, but those little differed from one another as his new acquisition slept and healed. Now he'd awakened, but all wasn't perfect.

"He's physically as well as he can be. The lack of a voice can only relate to his emotional or mental states, or both." Sorcerimon shook his head. "That isn't something that I can heal, Barbamon-sama."

Barbamon only smiled. "You need not worry about this. A warrior has no need of a voice to understand his orders or to carry them out, is this not true?"

Sorcerimon nodded without hesitation. Clearly if the boy wasn't in peak condition, he'd feared what his liege lord would do to him.

As far as Barbamon knew or cared, this couldn't have been better. While he'd had no hand in the massacre of the town, to find a single survivor so bent on revenge was a blessing he'd not looked for. Now that he had it, he wasn't going to give it up for anything.

"Let me know when he's healed and ready to..." Barbamon laughed as the thought occurred to him. "Though he can't speak with me, can he?" How amusing. "When we can bargain, then let me know. And make certain that I have the finest of trainers ready to assist him in his recovery and afterward."

He intended to make a warrior and champion out of his new acquisition, one fit to take on anyone in combat, even the most powerful of Digimon. His own greatest servants would take a hand in the boy's training, whether they liked it or not.

He would set some of them to find those who had raided the town, however, and he would have to find a method of mutual communication. If he wished the boy's trust and obedience, he would have to provide good faith on his side.


To Be Continued

Notes: I hurt those characters I like. Shou is no exception.