A Knights Tale Game Novels & Stories

“I only saw half his face, but I’ll never forget that look.” “He’s got a heavy grizzled beard your highness but that’s all I saw.” Elyn says, the oldest and most experienced of her maid and Fria, her little sister added. “Don’t worry your highness, we told the guards all we know of him.” ‘Which isn’t much. The golden colored mark on his right shoulder suggests he’s a Movakon knight, but there are seven–thousand knights in the palace alone.’ Camilla thought knowing it was almost impossible to catch him. His movements were suspiciously too relaxed and poised which is unbefitting of a knight, and his clothes looked too short and tight on him, implying it may not be his.

The last jousting match ended with one of the two more experienced knights taking the victory, and proving to all; that they were the best Knight in the Kingdom. Leading them to have an audience in front of the King, and the honour of getting some kind of reward. This was usually gold, land, or titles, whichever the victor preferred. Lynnette had not made it past the second round but had done all she needed to secure her place.

She flashed me a smirk, hearing Zachary’s compliment. “Thanks. You don't look bad yourself.” I say, eyeing the suit that was made from my hand. He looked really good in the black suit that was embroidered with golden leaves and an arrow that pierced one of the leaves. It was an art, one that couldn't be seen if it wasn't examined closely. I wondered how good it would look on Gray, Would he be happy If I made one from him? “Are you okay?” Zachary's voice brings me back to the present. I blinked and smiled at him.

Soon, it was my turn to present. "Good morning, everyone. It's an honor to be here today at the Ashenford Design Competition organized by the government. I'd like to start by showing you the 3D model our team has put together." I gave a nod to the two team members who were with me on stage. One of them, Logan, clicked the remote, and the screen came to life with my design—a black and white, simple… ball? Inside it were images of Ashenford, but what was this supposed to be?

Damn, so he can control metals. "And they can't shoot a score. They are only used for defense and assistance," Prince Guren resumed, motioning at me to turn my face back to our small group. "The Knights can pretty much do what Shields can do, however, they can't defend the Thrones. They are to disrupt the gameplay of the opposing team while scoring." Then, he raised a brow. "Keeping up, milady?" "Yes, I think I'm getting it so far," I chirped with an enthusiastic nod.

Then the subjugation knights came and witnessed the death of the chief. Daria slowly turned to them. Her back is facing the light. The menacing glint in her eyes is flaring, like a glorious fire, untamable. She suddenly burst and attacked the knights. In just a mere 10 seconds, all of the Knights who are in her line of vision are now laying on the floor with their blood oozing and beheaded. She smiled at the scene. The bloodbath is nothing to her. She walked as if nothing happened. Her clothes were stained with blood from someone else.

Eldrick put forth his question in an ambiguous manner, waiting to see would the man he was here to catch get the hint before he fell for the trap. “The ministers attend the sessions in the courtroom while the knights battle it out on the battleground.” Kolan answered only to receive a shake of the head from the Lord. “Let me rephrase my question. What ornament differentiates a minister and a knight?” This time everybody understood what the man was asking. “A minister wears a penannular brooch while a knight doesn’t.” Once against Kolan was the one to speak.

The blade gleamed with silver threads, and two more knights crumbled, eyes glazing as dream-silk tendrils wrapped around their armor. The remaining riders rallied, lances leveled. Steel rang as they charged, hooves churning earth. Vera backed toward the boulder, chanting again, channels of starlight snaking outward. One rider’s steed reared, sprayed snow, then collapsed in sudden collapse; the next knight yanked at his own helm, swaying. Three mounted knights remained. They wheeled, cutting her off from the gate. Vera licked her lips, breath ragged. She pressed the fang to her palm, closing her eyes and summoning the memory of Ember Hollow’s awakening:

A baby wailed in a burning cradle until silence swallowed it whole. Three dozen Royal Knights—the finest warriors of the southern territory—arrived on griffin-back, blades drawn, magic flaring. They lasted seven minutes. Lightning struck their beasts from the sky. The witches toyed with them. Aldrian smashed through shields and bone like a demon from the pits of forgotten hells. One knight crawled, bloodied and sobbing, toward a broken scepter of communication—but his head was torn clean off before he reached it. The forest swallowed the screams, the smoke, the cries.