No noble blood have I- no kin to the blue devils of Whitekeep. But still, I will be a knight, and act as one as nobly as I can. -- Weirdlet
Chivalry's earliest memory was watching the knights training. If ze was lucky, there'd be food ze could filch without coming to harm. They were magnificent. They were amazing. They were wealthy beyond young Chivalry's dreams... and ze was an orphan tolerated by the local roadhaus because ze cleaned up all the ashes in the fireplaces.
Because of hir brown skin and hair, they said ze grew up out of the dungheap like a weed. It wasn't unusual for a Hellkin to possess more Human hues, but people treated it as odd. Most of the devilborn were in every possible hue of nature and a few that had never been seen in any natural thing. Having one being literally dung brown was proof enough for many ordinary people that Hellin in general were as offensive. It was made clear for Chivalry before ze turned four. Ze was unworthy of existing.
That could not, and would not stop hir.
Ze watched the training the Paiges and Squires went through. Intensely. Ze trained when the grounds were empty. Ze worked with the horses in the wee small hours when nobody else wanted to. Ze polished the armour and sharpened the blades. Ze practiced with the training bows. Even repaired a broken one enough to use it hirself for scaring up some meat.
In everything else but name, Chivalry could be a Paige, even a Squire.
At twelve, hir fate changed.
Ze was out hunting for hirself when ze found Sir Fularar in the middle of an invasive vine. One of the ones from the distant southern lands that ate living animals. Including people. There was no sign of his Squire, though the swollen pod at the other end of the tendrils might indicate where the teen had gone.
Chivalry wasn't stupid. Ze had avoided plants like this before. Ze had arrows that lacked bodkins, but could still pin a tendril to their place. Five were already occupied with Sir Fularar. So Chivalry only had to worry about five others.
Ze had learned to shoot very well in order to eat.
The remaining tendrils pinned, Chivalry drew hir blade. It was an old thing rejected from the kitchens, but it still had enough blade for Chivalry to use. Ze had had to make a new handle from whatever ze could scavenge.
Chivalry cut the pod open, pulling the wreck of a teenaged Human out of the acidic goo inside. Quickly cleared the Squire's mouth and nose. Breathed for them until the poor lass coughed up anything else inside her.
Only once she was breathing on her own, did Chivalry turn to the important work of digging up all the plant's roots. The tendrils could wait. Ze scribed a fire sigil in a pit in the soil and began burning every last piece of it with the magic in hir tail.
Sir Fularar came to as Chivalry was burning the last of the tendrils. "You saved us," he said. "That thing was squeezing the life out of me. It ate Kaelri."
"I'm still alive, sir," said Kaelri, huddling by the fire. Her skin was bleached white and her hair was a fragile frazzle. She'd need a healer to see to her, but for now, she was at least awake and breathing. "The dung-demon breathed its air into me, though. Do I need to be cleansed?"
Chivalry dropped the last tendril into the flames. "I might hope that the educated would have better manners to one who rescued them." The five arrows ze had used were no good any more. The poison of the plant's sap would infest anything else ze killed with it. Five long nights' worth of work, now nothing more than kindling. "My kind aren't allowed hope. Are they?"
Reluctantly, Sir Fularar mumbled, "My thanks. You had no reason to do as you have done. I can see how much it cost you." His eyes kept returning to Chivalry's quiver and its one remaining arrow.
"I had one reason," said Chivalry. "It was the righteous thing to do." Ze quoted The Code, "To protect the weak and defenceless. To fight for the welfare of all. To fight against unfairness, meanness, and deceit. To respect the honour of all."
Sir Fularar and Kaelri were shamed into silence.
Chivalry made certain they could get home intact before ze resumed hir hunt. Ze didn't believe anything would come of hir kind act, and didn't expect it. The Code said a Knight was meant to rebuke any kind of reward for their acts. But it would have been nice to hear one of them say "thank you" at the very least.
The next morning, as Chivalry lurked by the training grounds, a shadow loomed over hir. It was Sir Yroste. She who was most likely to chase Chivalry off with her blade. She was also blocking Chivalry's only chance to run off.
"My Squire's injured themself so bad they're not likely to be able on a horse," she announced. "Fularar says you have the skills of a Squire. And that I should give you a chance."
Chivalry managed a weak, "Did he?"
"Told me all about what you did for him. That's more than any would do. And you reminded us all good and hard about why The Code exists." She had no sword at her hip, and offered her hand. "Especially me. Will you accept a position as my Squire? Learn how to be a Knight proper?"
All anyone trodden down has ever needed, was a hand up.
[Photo by Mario La Pergola on Unsplash]
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