Finally starting to get my chapters longer, this is double that of the first two! I felt kind of bad that I had written and proofread most of this chapter, but not finished it; so today that's what I've done. It'll probably be a while until my next chapter; it's still in the planning phase... Saying that, I don't really plan anyway, I just write and hope for the best. Not the best way to write a story huh?

The Western Warrior

Chapter Three

The cabin was below deck, it was just a bit bigger than the one in the tavern. It had a proper bed, a chair and desk, and a chest with a lock. In the cabin, a sole lantern hung from a nail driven into the wooden wall just over the desk and the light from the lantern started to recede into darkness as it reached his bed; perfect for sleeping. Richard felt comfortable here, it was homely. He placed his belongings he had brought with him in the chest neatly, spare linens on the left hand side, food bowl, parchment, and three of his favoured books in the middle, leaving space for his armour on the right hand side. Unclasping his sword belt, he lays his sheathed sword on the desk. Next unclasping his utility belt that holds his secondary weapon, a mace, and his mail up; the weight of the mail now completely on his shoulder alone. He unties the lace at the back of his surcoat and pulls it off over his head and folds it up neatly, showing his sigil on the top. Then his mail coif, dumping it on the floor as he bends over and slides the mail hauberk off his chest and onto the floor; along with it his gambeson. At this point his chest is bare, leaving only his bottom half covered still in mail and clothing. At this time, he stops and lies down on the bed to relax for a while with his feet crossed.

Eyes closed, he drifts off to sleep, only to be woken by a crewman knocking on his door. "Sir" Richard's head shoots up to see who it is. The crewman enters. "Sir, it is time for dinner in the galley. We've set sail with the morning tide and been graced with good wind all day." The crewman says. He looks at the half dressed knight with a queer expression. "Also, Sir, you might want to not wear your armour aboard this ship. If by chance you are knocked over board, you will sink to the bottom of the ocean. It's best you leave it in that chest."

"Thank you crewman, I will heed your warning. Farewell." Richard said thankfully as the crewman left. Richard sat up on his bed and finished undressing himself. Placing his armour carefully in the chest and making sure to not squash his books or parchment. He then takes some clean linen and dresses. He takes his sword and leaves his cabin for the main deck. On his way, he passes the galley and takes a half loaf of bread and some strips of lamb. Invictus' stores hold a small amount of unsalted meat that gets eaten within the first few days at sea. He emerges on deck; a cool wind steadily blows into the sail and pushes the ship forward at a good pace. The deck is lit up with lanterns on the railings, castellations, and on the masts. Richard walks around the deck and eats what he has got for dinner, peering over the railings to see the orange glow of the lantern light reflect off of the emerald green and sapphire blue sea below them.

After his food, he settles down on a stair case that leads up to the Officer's deck where the ship is sailed from, he feels the cold wind more easily now, tugging at his clothes and turning his skin ice cold; it's refreshing. His mind starts to wonder again. This time about how he doesn't want to fight anymore, he's fought enough in his short life of twenty years already. But he must; it is his duty as a Knight to fight. Richard feels conflicted by this, maybe if he didn't have his past, maybe if – that – didn't happen, he would be a better man. Maybe he would have relished this opportunity for more vicious fighting and glory. Soon after these thoughts lay siege to Richard's mind, he drops his head to his hands in shame. 'It was all fathers' fault. If he didn't send me to fight, again, I wouldn't be remembering all this. If he didn't send me to fight when I was really just a boy, then I wouldn't feel like this either!' Richard thought. Before his mind is encompassed wholly by this, he hits his head on the palm of his hands to regain some thought.

He slowly stands and shivers at the wind which is now turning harsh. He uses the railing and guides himself back to his cabin under deck. It is immediately warmer out of the wind and he decides to join a group of crewman all drinking in the galley. A distraction is better than sitting in his cabin alone. The Knight puts on a smile and asks for a drink, he gets handed two tankards but takes the one from a familiar crewman. "So, Sir, how're you finding that nice cabin from Lieutenant Thatcher?" The crewman's voice was familiar also; it was the man who had called him to dinner.

"So that was the man the cabin belonged to, it is suitable. Where is the Lieutenant now?" Richard asked. He joins them all at the table and takes a swig of the cider. It is a large wooden table that could easily fit eight men at it, but there was now only five, including Richard.

"The Lieutenant was an arse. He's sleeping with the rats, on the cargo deck. He wouldn't have himself, a man of apparent 'great stature' to sleep with us lot." Another crewman who was skinny and was bald said as he looked at the Knight's fine clothes.

"So we all know you're a Knight. But who are you? If you don't mind me asking." An old wrinkled crewman asked.

"I am Sir Richard Hill. Third son of Lord Edmund Hill, the Lord of the Riverspring and Lake Castle." Richard said. "I was sent by my father to join the crusade on his behalf and command a company of the Great Army."

All of the crewman looked in surprise and the old one in shock. "So you're pretty noble and important then?" The old crewman asked while taking a sip of his cider.

"I suppose you could say that," Richard said "But I don't consider myself to be that important in the scheme of things." Richard finishes off his cider. They talk for a good while until Richard starts to become tired. "I must be off; I have to write a letter to someone."

Richard takes his leave after a short farewell and goes back to his cabin. In reality, he had no intention of writing a letter; he just needed an excuse to leave the men for his own cabin. Once at his cabin, he became quite tired and set down to sleep.

Dawn had broke and the waves were gently rocking the ship side to side. The Knight awoke with a burst of energy, like a coil in his chest; he was full of life. The Knight realised he didn't undress since last night, but saw no reason to bother changing just yet, they were still somewhat fresh and clean. As he rose out of bed, the lantern caught his eye; it was gently swinging with the rocking of the ship and had left scars and had made itself a little groove by swinging so much. An odd thing for his eye to capture, but he thought it rather homely. Although the lantern itself wasn't lit anymore.

Richard left his swinging lantern and his cabin and climbed up to the top deck. Already, a full day's sail away from England and it was already hotter and sunnier; this was the weather of France. It was rather humid, he could already see crewman sweating as they went about their roles on the ship. The soldiers were also going about more mundane chores, such as washing and cleaning the deck and railings as well as taking turns for sentries at the bird's nest, forecastle, and castellations on the deck. Those at the rearcastle didn't seemingly do much apart from drink and take turns on their sentry; they didn't move to other sentry positions like the others did.

He walked up the steps to the Officer's Deck where Invictus was controlled from and to the rearcastle. The guards there already knew who Richard was and didn't challenge him; knowing he is a noble Knight. There were eight men in the rearcastle, with four on lookout. "Mind if I have a drink with you lot?" Richard asked; knowing he couldn't be refused.

"Yes my Lord, only water up here for us guardsmen though I'm afraid. The beers are below deck." Said the guardsman closest to Richard, handing him a flask of water. This guardsman didn't have a helmet on and had long brown hair down to his shoulders. All of the guardsmen wore leather armour and gambesons when on sentry and most just wore their linens when not on sentry.

"I'm not a Lord, I'm a Knight. You would call me Sir, not Lord." Richard said, taking the flask of water. "Thank you for the water guardsman." He took a sip of the water and asked "So, what is it that you four do when not on lookout?"

A scrawny lad of around sixteen spoke up. "We sit and drink, relax, spar, and enjoy the weather, Sir." He said looking at the Knight with interest. The scrawny lad's hair was close cut and blonde, his sun-kissed skin made the blondeness of his hair stand out even more. "Before you turned up, we were about to spar, if that might interest you, Sir."

Richard looked at the scrawny lad with curiosity and bewilderment; 'did this lad just challenge me to a sparring match with him?' He thought. Sir Richard looked to the other guardsmen to ascertain whether they would relish the chance to fight an anointed knight such as himself. They looked slightly worried at the prospect of sparring with a Knight, but they couldn't refuse as otherwise they'd be mocked by the scrawny lad and the rest of the crew. "Alright Sir, we will all spar, but perhaps a one on one first. We have these training swords to spar with." The guardsman with long hair handed Richard one of the training swords as he spoke. "The lad is still learning how to fight with 'em. Go easy on him."

Graciously taking the sword the Knight proclaimed "I will take it slowly and fight fairly. Ready yourself scrawny lad!" He raised his sword to the lad and adopted a side facing fighting stance. The lad looked suddenly worried as the long haired guardsman threw a practice sword, gauntlets, and helmet to him; he hadn't been given the chance to voice any objection. As Richard faced down his opponent, he began with a few basic swings, first a swing to the lad's right leg, then head, then side; he ensured that he did this slow enough for the scrawny lad to block in time. The lad counted the side blow and started attacking the Knight at a fast pace and tried to drive Richard backwards by advancing but the Knight held firm and pushed the lad back; landing a blow to his sword arm, disarming the lad.

"Not too bad…" Richard said slowly with a hint of criticism in his voice. "You need to grip the sword less, it is a part of your arm; a part of your arm won't fall off by itself. Try again." As he spoke, he readied himself for another spar, seeing that the lad is fine to continue. The scrawny lad attacked first this time, being quickly thrown off balance by Richard and then pressed into retreat as the Knight hounded him with a barrage of attacks. The lad kept up with Richard but faltered on his footwork; the lad tripped over his own feet and landed on the deck with the sound of laughter filling the air around them both from the guardsmen. Richard helped the scrawny lad up with his free hand and congratulated him. "That's some good work being able to keep up with that, you just need to be more careful."

The Knight looked over at the other three guardsmen. "Are you three going to join in or not?" He beckoned to get them over. They gave each other a slightly nervous look and approached Sir Richard with swords in hand. Behind the long haired guardsman was a man with a mighty black beard and no hair on his head, with scars littering his face. "Lad!" the bearded man bellowed, "Get here now!" the scrawny lad joined the other three. The all approached in unison, spread out slightly as Richard stood firm, looking at them all at once with a stern look on his face. All of a sudden swords clashed, Richard has struck and was advancing upon the four, landing blows upon the long haired guardsman and blocking any counters from him and the others. Richard advanced relentlessly, breaking their loose formation and singling out the long haired guardsman and striking him on the back of the knee, forcing him to the floor. He yielded. At this time, the scrawny lad tried to land a blow on the Knight but the blow was side stepped; narrowly missing the long haired guardsman. Richard advanced again at the remaining three with the training sword swinging like a wild beast as he deflected each strike from the three and landing multiple counter-blows on them in return. The scrawny lad tripped again, falling backwards into some barrels which softened his fall slightly. Each sword was struck countless times as they whirled in the air, however with only two opponents left, the Knight made short work of them; felling one with a blow directly to the chest and the bearded man by disarming him.

Sweat was dripping down his forehead, covering his entire body in a film of sweat. He looked at the four defeated guardsmen all on the floor looking up at him; still in stance, cautiously waiting to see if one dares to try once more. The four were all exhausted and could barely believe at how skilled Richard was; he lived up to the tales that're told about knights being indomitable in battle. "Bloody hell… Sir, your talent with a sword at your age is unheard of…" What was said was slightly muffled with wheezes from the bearded man. "Please, give our lad some guidance so we can take heed as well." The bearded man pleaded in astonishment.

Richard chuckled to himself and let down his guard, moving over to the others to help them up one by one. They all thanked him whilst the scrawny lad fetched more water for the rearcastle. Hours passed on and on, in the end, Richard had taken up to teaching all eight guardsmen in the rearcastle how to fight and work together whilst fighting. At the end of the day, they were all tired but the guardsmen had already made some progress. Dusk had set, and the Knight had set about back to his cabin with a meal of day-old meat, lemon, and fish; served with bread and onion.

The lantern was already lit, presumably by one of the crewman during their duties. He set the food down on his desk and checked his belongings to ensure nothing was missing; not one bit was out of place. Taking the quill and parchment the Knight set about writing about what had happened thus far on his journey as he ate. It was a calm evening, as the Knight finished his meal and writings; setting down on the bed to sleep, he fell asleep remarkably quickly on such a calm evening.