Knight Teachings Reginald

The Teachings of Reginald
Sir Reginald, titled Knight of the Realm, Knight of Honour, & Keeper of the Flame, currently serving as Commander of the Knight’s Garrison, stirred in his sleep; disturbed by long-ago voices and visions. He woke up.

A ghostly apparition was hovering over his cot. Sir Reginald reached out a hand, but the spectre retreated while unseen words filled the still air, “What is the first duty of a Knight?” inquired the vision.

“To work the will of his Lord,” responded Reginald, “Who art thou to ask?”

“Tis not yet my place to say,” said the phantom, “But what of the King?”

“A Knight is loyal to the King, of course, but that loyalty is linear: from Vassal to Lord, to that Lord’s Lord, on up to the King.”

“But, Sir Knight,” the ghost countered, “you have no Lord. Explain that.”

“When but newly a Knight,” responded Reginald, “I pledged my life, my health, my blood, my bones, my body - my very Honour - to the King directly. He is both my King and My Lord. I neither belong, nor claim allegiance, to any Barony or city, therefore that conflict does not exist. I am a Knight of the Realm.”

“Well enough spoken, but, in normal circumstances, what if the King wars upon the Knight’s Lord?”

“Than the responsibility of the Knight is to decide who is right. If the Lord is right, than to follow his Lord. If the King is right, than to meet with his Lord and formally withdraw his pledge. He would be then free to do as he saw fit.”

The ghost nodded, but intoned yet another question, “What is the first rule of combat?”

“In Offense: to choose the time. In Defense: to choose the ground. All other considerations come after, for, until then, no other planning can be accomplished.”

“What is the most important aspect of combat?”

“Convictions. Depending on the odds, those fighting for honour, justice, truth, and right may not win, but they will have those convictions to sustain them, even unto death. The individual in the pay of another may indeed be brave in combat, but that, too, is based on the strength of their convictions.”

“What are your convictions?” “The Knight’s Guild Code, the Code of Arthur, and the Old Code all sustain me, therefore those are my convictions. I hold them together with my Honour, which is inseparable, resolute, and unbreakable.”

“What are the precepts of the Knight’s Guild Code?” Reginald closed his eyes and recited from memory:

“‘A Knight should show courtesy and consideration for others at all times. A Knight should never spill the blood of an innocent A Knight should never knowingly steal the spoils of another adventurer’s victory. A Knight should respect other guilds and give them aid and guidance whenever possible. A Knight should endeavor to help a newcomer whenever possible. There is no place for racism in the Knights Guild, everyone is different and we must learn to accept these differences. All Knights are equal. Although ranking is important to the guild, a Knight should never treat a less experienced Knight as a subordinate. A Knight is the protector of the innocent. When a town, guild, or temple comes under threat, then as Knights we should give our all, including life, in its defense. A Knight should show no disrespect for followers of others Patrons, even followers of Vagma and Reknall deserve our support and encouragement, as well as respect. A Knight must be able to forgive others of any sin or misdemeanor, and bear no grudges. People do change and we should always remind ourselves of this fact. A Knight’s role is to aid others in need, to do this you need to acquire certain skills and weapons, but not at the cost of other’s safety or lives. The guild will try to help as much as possible with your needs,’” his eyes opened, “I may not have got them exactly correct, but that is the heart of the Code.”

“Close enough to not disparage their meaning.” agreed the spectre.

“Why ask thee these questions, Spirit?” inquired Reginald.

“I beg thee patience for just a bit longer.” stated the ghost, “for there be reason in my request which thou wilt understand in time. For now, return to sleep, if sleep may be had. If not, soon thou wilst have all the sleep thou need” The spirit dissipated, and the room, once again, was quiet.

Sir Reginald tossed and turned in his slumber, and finally tossed the blanket aside with resignation. He sat and watched the nightsman on his lonely rounds passing back and forth in front of the outpost entrance.

The Knight’s Guild banner flapped lazily in the early morning air which also caused the candle flame on the table to dance, guttering the wax like spearpoints. The dancing light reflected on the Guard’s armour and unsheathed sword. Reginald glanced at his own accouterments and saw the same design being traced along his sword and helm by the fickle light. He got up, and stretched.

Pondering his dream, he sat again and stared at his armour. He picked up his well balanced Adamantine Bastard Sword. “This,” Reginald decided, “was going to need something more.”

He carefully got dressed in his tunic and slippers. “If needed, seek me above.” he told the night watchman, who responded merely with “Aye.”

Gathering up his armour and weapons, he strode out to the foray, mounted the rampart and entered the tower. He arranged his weapons in a circle, blades pointing in, and laid out his armour just to the outside of the circle, yet surrounding the circle of swords. There was just room enough for one man to sit in the center of the circle. Reginald lit four candles, one on each corner of the tower, and did just that. He then meditated. The sun rose, crossed over the heavens, and sank; Vasari updated her records.

Reginald did not move. A page came to the tower with some bread and cheese, but Reginald waived him away, so he exchanged the candles instead, retlit the new ones, and retreated down the steps, muttering, sotto voice to another Knight, “Sir Reginald’s acting rather unusual today.” Quite an understatement thought the Knight, so word was sent for the Guild Master to come quickly to the outpost.

Night fell. Reginald continued his vigil. Finally, the not-quite-human shape formed again in front of him. “What manner of occupation art thou practicing, good Sir Knight?” inquired the ghost.

Reginald looked up at the effervescence. “I am undergoing a vigil, Spirit,” replied Reginald, “My occupation is, was, and always will be, that of Knight: a King’s Champion. Surely thou, with such knowledge as demonstrated last night, recognize this attitude. A vigil can be used to understand a question, and you have given me one.”

“That I did,” responded the vision. “Answer me this then: What is the Code of Arthur?” “The Code of Arthur is the credo by which all Knight’s feel kinship with one of the greatest of legend. “Say it, then,” said the ghost. Responding with feeling, Reginald began the lines of the most holy of Knight tenants, “ ‘Be always ready Defend the poor Do nothing to hurt or offend Be prepared Try to win honour and a name for honesty Never break a promise Maintain the honour of your Lord Do good unto others’ ” “What, Sir Knight,” inquired the ghost, “does that mean?” “This code cements the basis for all that Knights believe in, act, say, and do,” replied Reginald, “Without the Code of Arthur there would be no Knights as we know of them today. We would be a mockery of ourselves. With the Code of Arthur, we are strong, united of purpose, and dedicated to our cause, whatever that may be. Further, those whom we serve have a guideline for what we, as Knights, should be, do, and act, and can formulate their decisions based on a set of principles that never waiver. Further, the general population, whom we also serve, have a set series of standards they understand and have a right to expect from any Knight, always and forever”

“But, Sir Knight,” continued the wisp, “Not all Knights follow this code.” “Those who choose to not follow the Code of Arthur have no right to call themselves a Knight. They violate the very precepts which distinguish a Knight from the Commoner or Lord.” Reginald’s eyes slitted in anger as he continued, “They are not worthy of the arms they bear, the steel they wear, or the shield they carry. They should be banned, and branded a ‘Pretend Knight’, for they dishonour all that the true Knight stands for.”

“Enough, for you have the meat of that issue.” said the ghost, “but what of those Knight’s you quickly disparage in relation to the Knight’s Guild Code’s admonition to ‘forgive others of any sin or misdemeanor, and bear no grudges’?”

“I truly try to forgive their trespasses, as the Code requests,” Reginald slowly replied, “however, if the individual in question forebears to change after being gently reminded of the consequences of their actions, their activities then reflect not only unfavorably upon themselves but, by association, upon our Guild, and therefore upon me. Do I not have the right to determine my own fate?”

“Sometimes yes, sometimes, no.” “Banter words not with me, for I see thou understand my words intent. Though obeying the orders of my betters, even onto death, the manner of my death is of my choosing, because I chose to be a Knight. Therefore, regardless of circumstances, I am the master of my own fate.”

“Very well, Knight, answer then, this: Of what fate dost thou see for a Knight who stands while the rest move?” “The measure of thy death has to be accounted by thy actions. If thou stand on a bridge, denying passage to enemies, and hold against all odds for but the short time needed to allow others to escape; if thou standist up to ridicule to promote a just cause; if thou fight to refuse rejection of truth; then honour is served, and thy death worth a song. If you stand for nothing, than thou are merely in the way; life has no meaning, and death merely an escape.”

“Well spoken, Sir Knight, for thou understand thy quandary well.” said the ghost. “We shall meet again soon.” The spirit vanished.

The vigil continued. Understanding came. A piece of the puzzle manifested itself, and Sir Reginald knew it was time to act. He reached out to his Blood Letter, and picked it up. He stood and advanced to the southwest corner. Holding the Blood Letter high above his head, he uttered a quick prayer and plunged the blade into the mortar until the sword was stuck fast.

He re-entered the circle and repeated the process with the Phoenix Sword, except this went into the south-east corner. Into the north-east corner went the Widow Maker, and finally the Blessed Avenger of Law bit likewise into the north-west corner.

Reginald returned to the middle of the circle, took up his Adamantine Bastard Sword, and sat down. Another Page came storming up the tower stairs at the commotion. Reginald merely looked at him and said, “Pray favor me by saddling up my charger, Rockmoor.”

Not noticing the unusual location of the four swords, the Page gulped and, with a quick “Yes, M’Lord,” raced down to do as bidden. Suddenly, Reginald began to dress. He started with the leather straps, but before wearing them, he took each piece of his armour, and, after rubbing it carefully with a buff cloth, donned it.

It took hours, but finally he sat in the center of two pieces of equipment, his Adamantine Bastard Sword, and his Holy Dagger - each stretched out in opposite directions. Reginald stood and placed his shield on his left arm, grasping the handles securely. His shield danced in the light of the 4 candles showing the argent bottom half, while the blood red of the “chief gules” exposed the golden Dragon in all it’s glory. the shield of a Preserver of Honour with his personal coat of arms superimposed.

He attached the heartcharm given him by Hearthome, the heart-rune armband given him by Zinca, and the necklace by Elaina. It was almost time to go.

The Ghost returned shortly after Reginald had attached the Holy Dagger to his front sheath, and was holding his Adamantine Bastard Sword at the ready. “What is the Old Code?” it asked. “The ‘Old Code’ is what each Knight Swears to upon initiation into the Circle of Knighthood. the ‘Old Code’ is a set of principles that direct the Knight in daily activities.” Said Reginald “A Knight is sworn to valor,” the Spirit said, stating the first tenant of the Old Code. “His heart knows only virtue,” Reginald responded, continuing the string.

“His blade defends the helpless,” chanted the Ghost. “His might upholds the weak,” returned Reginald. “His words speak only truth,” continued the Spectre. “His wrath undoes the wicked,” finished Reginald. “Fairly stated,” pronounced the vision, “But now. . .”

“ENOUGH!” fairly shouted Reginald, “I hear the call of Noblesse Oblige, and am ready. I have answered thy questions with no murmur for far too long, but now, whom do thy spirits represent?”

“Examine, for a moment, what we may appear to be,” said the ghost, “and reflect upon thy memories of long ago to produce for thyself an answer.” Other wisps joined the first. The ghosts waxed and waned, first one than another, in various poses and profiles, until a light came into Reginald’s eyes.

“Ahhh,” Reginald intoned, “Thou art the spirits of my leaders, and mentors; nay my FRIENDS of whom have long ago departed. Alvogyl. . . Blueheart. . . Blackbow. . . JCCW. . . Ungabunga. . . Colonel. . . Xandria. . . Elwing. . . Pink Dael. . . others I have not seen in forever, what art thou doing here?”

“We have come, for the honourably titled Knight of the Realm, known also as, Keeper of the Flame, Knight of Honour, Chivalry’s Knight Champion, Knight’s Guild Head Mentor, and Preserver of all we hold true. We have come for you, Sir Reginald, Knight of the Old Code. Your time here is at an end. Your mission here is done. We who stand with you tonight maintain over this Guild the spirit of the Knighthood, and we ask you to join us now in our eternal vigil. This is the answer you sought. Our vision is strong and true. There are others we will come back for as well, but they can wait a bit longer. We exist in this plane, waiting to be bidden again, to bring the honour and glory of the Guild back to those who deserve it. Our existence will never be forgotten; we are the embodiment of the ‘Spirit of the Knights’. Tis time to join us. Avalon Hill awaits it’s warriors; Honour calls.” With that, the Ghost of Blueheart beaconed forth, and pointed skyward, “Come, let us depart.”

Fully dressed, armoured, and armed, Sir Reginald strode down the steps with a renewed feeling of purpose. He clapped a friendly hand on the Page’s back as he departed the tower, stating, “Remember, ye young future Knight: ‘Noblesse Oblige is not just a phrase, but a duty.’ So sayeth I.” He paused at the entrance to the outpost. Giving a warm smile of greeting to the watchman at the entrance, he moved away from the bastion. Pausing at the entrance to the Church, Sir Reginald dropped to his knees and thrust his Adamantine bastard sword point first into the soil of the church entryway while uttering a quick prayer. “A Knight is Sworn to Valor.” he whispered as he arose, and made his way to the stables. Rockmoor nickered softly in recognition, and received a small treat. Mounting his armoured white charger, Reginald sheithed his Adamantine bastard sword, set his shield, clapped his visor shut, and rode out of the city: In full Knight’s vestments, a jaunty pennant flapping on the end of his lance, the King’s Champion departed once again on campaign.

At the outpost, the page waiting at the bottom of the stairs finally had to admit he couldn’t wait any longer. He had to inform Reginald that the Guild Master was waiting in the interview room for him, but felt like he shouldn’t bother the old Knight during a vigil, especially after being told to prepare his horse. Regardless, he finally scampered up the steps to the tower, but stopped cold when he reached the top. Calling down to a Knight to pass the word for the Guild Master, who answered the summons with a snort and, trying to figure out what the matter was, also mounted the stairs and entered the tower. The Page, wide eyed, was attempting to peer into the visor holes of a Full Knightly Suit of Armour standing at the ready in the center of the tower, shield in position, sword in hand. “What’s the problem, Son?” the Guild Head Knight inquired.

“There are swords embedded in the tower corners, M’Lord,” the Page sputtered, “And his armour. It’s empty.” “Where is Sir Reginald?” “I don’t know, M’Lord. No one saw him leave.” The Guild Master went over to an embedded sword to remove it, but as he approached, the sword faded and disappeared. He went to another, and the same thing happened. Finally, after four attempts, all four swords were gone. Finally he approached the armour and stared into the visor. All he saw were stars. “By the way, M’Lord,” the page whispered, afraid of overriding the sombre mood, “I can't get this out of my mind. What does ‘Noblesse Oblige’ mean?” Waiving his hand for quiet, the Head Guild Knight peered out of the battlements into the dark sky. “I think you may just find out, son” the Guild Master said, “Listen!” Off in the distance, with stanzas of Honour, Chivalry, Duty, and Glories of the Knighthood, they heard the trappings of a song.