StarDestroyer.Net BBS

A little experiment in Shakespearean bullshittery. I present to thee:


A Knight in Broken Armour




T’was near nightfall, the sky of dark blue hue. Day’s end it was, lamplit the city’s streets. Coaches and autos, cars and carriage. Glisten did the sky’s stars. Wind blew from the black. It was night, the city was alive.

Treno. In entered Sir Ven, knight prince. Sir Ven, knight in shining armor. With a mighty stride, in he walked, brave and true, walked to the court of cobble rock and stone. By his side his sword, on his crown his helm. In he walked, brave and true. Sir Ven, knight prince in shining armor.

Court of cobble rock and stone, court of high blood all of nobles. Sir Ven entered to meet his Lord, king of Treno.

“Did thou summon me, milord?” asked Sir Ven as he bowed.

The Lord said: “Truest I did indeed, Sir Ven. Arise.”

Sir Ven rose.

“Of what do you ask, lord?”

“Not much, not much. Just the company of thee, my rightmost man.”

Sir Ven nodded.

“Shall we dine?” the lord asked.

“I have not supped yet for you summoned me lord, and how could I refuse?” Sir Ven answered. “I could not.”

“Then we shall dine,” the lord said. “Dine, for I too have not supped, busy I was in my ponderations.”

To the chambers they walked. The lord on his throne, Sir Ven cross the round table. They ate and drank.

“Much thankes, lord. For I thirst as I hurried here,” Sir Ven said between his wine. “To my relief, I find myself subject to thine hospitalities.”

The lord did not answer, busy as he was on a leg of pork. In silence they ate.

“Lord, what troubles you?”

“Sir Ven, ‘tis most unfortunate news I hear’d…”

“What news be it?”

“News of your treason,” the lord said sadly.

“Treason, lord?” Sir Ven asked, standing up. “What treason? I have not betray’d you.”

“Liar!” cried the lord. “Dost thou think of me a fool, Sir Ven? Dost thou think of me blind?”

“No lord, but why dost thou think of me a traitor? I have done no wrong to you, or to thine name.”

“Silence lest I cut off your tongue!” shouted the lord.

For his guards the lord cried, and his guards came at his cry.

“O what have I done to you, lord?! I am but loyal!”

“Liar!” cried the lord. “Lest you think of me deaf, the prince Romero has spoken of your indiscretions, of your betrayal!”

“But I did not betray you, lord!”

“No,” the lord said in finality. “You betrayed yourself.”



For the betrayal, thou are stripped of sword and shield. Broken, they are, before thine very eyes. And cross your cheek drive my dagger, mark you to those who seek.

Woe, Sir Ven, woe. For you were most loyal, yet you betray’d me. Yet I cannot kill you for your betrayals, for your loyalty. Thus, I spare you and break your armour. And I leave you to die. By the river, to weep and die. Begone and let me never see thine eyes again.

By the breaking dawn, the sky was of a golden blue hue. T’was morning, the morning of a new day.

Sir Ven lay by the river’s edge. He gazed upon a bird by the creek bed, and to his eyes the bird look’d back. For his dishonour, the bird sang a song, perhaps to join his lament, perhaps to jeer his torment. Sir Ven did not care which.

T’was mid day when the three men passed.

First was a noble knight who look’d down on him in disgust.

Secon’d was the knight’s squire, a midget on a mule who took him no care.

Thirded was an old yellow man, hunch’d by his shoulders, in robes of wise men, nay a wizard. He bent to Sir Ven and took him care.

“Yea of broken armour,” call’d the wizard. “What be your name?”

“None,” answered Sir Ven. “For with my broken armor, my name be gone. I am dishonour’d, leave me die. Woe is to me.”

“Woe is to you,” nodded the sage of hunch’d back. “But this day you die not.”

“And why not?” said Sir Ven. “Surely I deserve to be death’d for my iniquities, left to rot. My home is with my king who I betray’d. I have no home, I am dead.”

“Yet still you speak, surely you live still,” said the yellow sage. “Trust me for I was the king’s sage. I am a wise man, not yet mad by my age.”

“Have you quarters where I may dwell?”

“Surely,” said the sage. “And potions to cure thine wounds of unearthly smell.”

“What be your name, wise man?”

“Tell me thine and I will tell you mine.”

“I am Sir Justin Ven,” said Sir Ven. “Sir Justin McAurelius Rudolfo Brechsteiner Al-Alena Zerrothollo Li-Dunstead Ven.”

“Very well, Sir Ven,” nodded the sage. “My name be Tzu. Li-Dunstead, you say? Then you may have some Oriental blood. Know you of the Cathay tongue?”

“Nay, I know not.”

“Good. For even the kings think of my Cathay tongue as words of magyck,” laughed the wizard as he took out his oaken staff. “Come, let us go to my humble abode.”



Trekked did they to Treno, to the eld's humble abode. O'er the hills they walk'd till the sun's nearing down.

"Tell me, Sir knight," spoke the elden Tzu. "Of the iniquities 'gainst our fair king doth thou done."

Bemoaned Sir Ven: "Know not even I of my sins, for simply the king sayeth I betray'd him, said he that the prince Romero say'd him so."

"Had he told you of thine crimes, would thou repent?"

"Gladly!" swore Sir Ven. "If the truth be told, surely I would make amends."

"Good. For I would not let a man ente'rd my home lest I know his intents. Were you foul, then you would have slept with the hounds. Let their filth sully thee, but not thine foul intents sully me."

"Aye, yea be truly wise, old Tzu," Sir Ven praised.

"Indeed, for was I not at the king's council?"

"Mayhaps, yet I have never seen thee by his throne..."

"I have never say'd t'was your king. I served long ago when your lord was but a little prince," the elden Tzu sighed. "Thru these years, my king I serve still."

"You must be very old."

"Old but still as sharp as thine finest blade," returned Tzu. "Come, we near the city."



Hid Sir Ven did at the sound of trumpets. For surely if the king sighted him, he would have been killed. There was a parade of celebration, at the heart t'was the king's carriage of sculpted gold and i'vry, drawn by steeds with single horns. Round these horse and carriage was a company of knights, adorned in kilts and lorica that gleamed in the day's ending light. The cobblestone streets were frocked by adulation, thus the peasant seas had to be parted before the king by motorcade.

"Let us not be at this place," Sir Ven warned. "My heart cannot bear it and I fear that if I am seen, soon my heart touch steel."

"Ere then," motioned Tzu. "My home is near this way."

Not long did then did they enter Tzu's home.

"Tis not much," the elden said. "Rent for your dwellings would but be a pittance."

"Thank you," Sir Ven bowed. "T'was too kind of you and for not you, I would die by river's edge, died of shame and not of steel."

"T'was not the time nor the place. Sit, I shall medicine you and prepare our supp."

Tzu's potions were scented foul but they cleaned, then they supped on slugs and brew. Tzu bid him good nite by his room, and soon, Sir Ven slept without a dream.

I like it.

Though I feel compelled to strangle you for naming the city Treno and making me think this was a FF9 fic.

Sorry

But, yeah, I envision this story's Treno to bear a some passing similarities to FF9's Treno. FF9 is awesome.

T’was the fifth moon’s falling after the night the knight Sir Ven’s armour was broken’d by his fair and just Lord, noble King of Treno. O’er the sky, midst the black, a crescent moon of red hung by the starlit dark.

Daughter of Sir Ven’s lord, Princess Julia, or Jule as some say, look’d o’er the balcony of the king’s palace by the hillside. Gazed did she to the crescent moon of red that hung by the starlit dark till eventide’s fourteenth hour came and pass’d, for she was busy as she was in her own ponderations.

From the back could she hear footfalls.

“Daughter, tis an hour ungodly,” said the king. “Sleep you must, for the days to come surely be long.”

“Why, oh father-king?” asked Julia. “Why should I rest when I am restless, why should I sleep when I cannot?”

“Tis for thine good, to sleep it is. Aye, as is the thing that is to transpire.”

“Yet what if I do not wish to sleep?”

“But you must.”

“And what if yet I do not wish to be married to the Prince Romero and his enormous bosomed wife?” asked Julia to her father-king.

“But you must. He has done me a great duty, did he, for unveiling one who betray’d me in my midst. Thus he is to be rewarded.”

“Rewarded, must he?”

“Yes, did he a great duty and thus must be rewarded.”

“With my flesh?!” cry’d Julia in rage. “Reward him with jewels, if you must. Reward him with slaves of fields and slaves of flesh, but make me not one of these slaves! I care not of what greatnesses he has done.”

“He unveiled to me a traitor who plot to kill me and steal all I had.”

“And who be that traitor? Certainly just Sir Ven would have found out such traitor too, yet you would not reward him as audacious so. Just Sir Ven, who would do his duty without selfishly ask of self, unlike foul Prince Romero and his enormous bosomed wife.” Julia then ask’d: “Where is Sir Ven? Sure I am he’d say’d something of this foul marriage, and of his council you do heed.”

Thus was the king’s turn to cry in rage. “Do not say his name again, lest I cut out your tongue with blade and cut out my ears.”

“Speak of him I will then without his name utter’d,” insisted Julia. “Where is the good knight who shall be nameless then? I have not seen him for days.”

“He is the traitor I speak’d of!” screamed the king with eyes shot of blood. “He is the traitor the Prince Romero spoke of.”

“What did good Sir Ven - ”

“Dare not speak his name!” the king loudly say’d, awaking servants in their chambers and peasants thru half of Treno. “He was like a son of mine, trusted him did I. I cannot tell you of his deeds, lest you defend of what to you did him and break my heart. Of that I cannot bear to hear.”

“But Sir Ven did nothing to me or you!”

“Lies!” cry’d the king, waving out his robe’d arms. “Vicious lies!”

“My king,” Julia started. “Father, what has happened to you? Has the foul Prince Romero found a wizard to strike you mad with magycks? Why do you act so?”

“Say no more, dear Julia, lest you drive me madder with thine protestations. You will marry the Prince Romero and his enormous bosomed bride and that is that. Then you and he and her will make me an heir true and thru.”

“I would rather make an heir with you than have him in me,” said Julia. “The foul Prince Romero and his enormous bosomed wife have not been together for more than a month.”

“You and he and her will marry, that is that for it is his due.”

“So be it, I care not. Then give me, his due for what he has done for you,” Julia surrendered. “Oh, and fuck him too.”

Sir Ven sat by his bed for a fortnight, his body yet still pain’d by wound and bruises, his face still bled by its garish scar – stitch’d by mere yarn thread and needle. Beset was he by afflictions, and did he grow weak and fevrish, his mind addled with sickness and hurt.

O’er the moons did he howl in rage, cry’ed in sorrow and pain. For missed did he his king, his beloved lord. For missed did he his friend, the king’s daughter. For missed did he his pride, his armour.

Sir Ven sat in filth, his broken armour he still wore, his scarred face held high still. Shamed was he, yet ashamed was he not to shed his tears. He wept.

“O, behold me. Once was I a proud and noble knight

Once was I the king’s most trustful man, loved was I as his son

Now behold me, my face a bloodful wreck, what beauty once I had now but gone

Did not the king himself draw blade ‘gainst mine face to make my mark

Must yea shrieve me, now ask me thou

What have I done? O what have I done?

I know not what I hath done

Yet was I not cast out by my lord whom I love?

Was my name not cursed by his breath?

Left for dead, was I, by the river’s edge

And better yet should I have been deathed

Than it is to live shamed

Woe is unto me to live shamed!

Woe! O Woe!

Grief strikes like thunder on a day of rain

Like more sorrow to one in pain

I did not betray my king

I betrayed myself.”

Sir Ven did not eat for but a fortnight, his only sustenance but a pint of brew. Thinner grew he, like that of a prisoner starved by captors, tormentors. But poor Sir Ven, trapped was he not by chains nor bars, but by his own mind, his memories and thoughts his captors and tormentors.

By his begriefed utterenaces, poetry and prose for one drunk’d of brew and the bitter wine of sorrow, did he then weep like that of a widowed hag. Past this, was then a peculiar occurrence.

Once his tears dry’ed, Sir Ven was then met by a visitation. Came from the shadows of his enfeebled mind a dark apparition. And say’d the ghostly being unto him:

“We shall meet in the place where there is no darkness.”