Medieval Knight Books Novels & Stories

"Are you a MOTHER, my MOTHER?! What are you doing here!! What are you supposed to be doing!! I thought... I thought...!" Without warning he collapsed to his knees, one hand stretched out at Tira as though eager to clutch her... perhaps to kill her. Confused shouts and howls now arose from both sides of the battlefield. I looked over to mine and caught the eye of my Beta; she began quickly to dart back and forth before my Pack, silently barking orders to remain where they stood, but to be ready for anything. I shifted my stance, watching, assessing. Beside me Cillium remained still like a chunk of stone, never even having moved once since he had rushed to be there. My golden knight... My Mate

And there, ahead, where the valley narrowed into the mouth of the pass itself, was a scene of tense stalemate. On one side of a rushing, glacial river, a makeshift camp flew the banners of several eastern lowland lords—a silver gryphon, a green serpent, a black tower. Perhaps two hundred men-at-arms were arrayed in disciplined ranks, their pikes gleaming dully in the overcast light. At their head, on a sleek chestnut horse, was a man in polished half-plate: Lord Gryffen, his face handsome and cruel under a trimmed beard.

There were piles of books on her table, and there was a request for more books that she had drafted out. “My lady, let us leave.” Liora begged, following behind me impatiently. I checked through some of her books, and they were mostly fiction. My eyes caught a particular book under a pile of books, and I reached for it instantly. “My lady, you're going to get me killed.” Liora groaned as I picked up the book. “THE ADVENTURES OF LADY KILMARTIN.” I read out loud. “Huh?” Liora mumbled.

He bowed and was gone as quickly as he arrived, leaving the heavy satchel behind. I lunged for the bag the moment the tent flap sealed. I untied the cord with shaking fingers and pulled out the book. It wasn't ancient and brittle. It was a modern reprint, but the cover read: Healers' Lore: The Legacy of the Wounded Crown. It was a medical text, disguised as a historical relic.

Another cart of food was brought in, and we quickly dug in whilst getting back to sorting through the mountain of ancient tomes. After eating my fill of fruit tarts, and honeyed pastries, I plopped down on Azrael’s lap. Together we sat at the desk along the far wall, facing Orion who was seated on the sofa across the room. Nestled against his chest, his chin resting on my shoulder, I began to scan the pages he flitted through. Most were legends about the beasts and how they’d travel throughout the cosmos, both omniscient and immortal. The pages were littered with smaller stories about knights waging wars in their names, and kingdoms not of this world making sacrifices in hopes of receiving a

I curse internally for not finding my motorcycle's key when I need it the most. "Okay. I'm coming. Don't worry. He will be okay." Cutting the call, I throw a long coat on my nighty and leave my apartment in a hurry. Thankfully, I have shorts on, so it doesn't look awkward to ride my motorcycle on that street half-naked. What the hell is wrong with me? Inwardly, I ask myself about what I am doing and what makes me do it.

Prime minister Zetoma also checked the King’s health condition in that room. Queenie, Argo, Steni, and Fewa observe the box, especially Argo. In his view, this box was tiny. It could not store a device for distilling wine in it. But, as Argo recalled, this was indeed the box he had seen in the Dragon Knight healer’s room. “This was the magic box we were looking for. It’s just that I don’t know how to use it,” Argo said. “In the book, it is writing. Look with the heart, not with the eyes. You think?”

He had mythologized Deep 6 into a medieval Crusade with him as a gallant knight in lead of the charge. Now he understood what all those gallant knights were about. They plundered property that didn’t belong to them. They plundered the lands of others for personal gain. They met resistance with sheer force. If there was not enough power one moment, they would find a way next time around. There was no stopping it. There were brief periods of peace while new strategies for conflict were devised. That was the purpose of peace. One game had run out, but another would begin. It was just like the banks.

That was enough for him to know that the God of Fire would not share it to him, no matter what it was. Distant memories emerged in the mind of the Black Knight. To many, or rather, to the public, he was but a mortal from seventeen hundred years ago. In the records, he became a renown royal born knight that later became known as the Duke of Cornwall, the very first English duke if one might add.

“Over the land where the voices of my people cry out for justice and peace, the battlefield which has been bathed with so much bloodsheds for many generations past and the unending clanging of the metals and piercing of the arrows which killed people. I, if I was only able to cease this ungodly, ungainly and undying war, I have long lay down my life to stop this. If my life is enough, I would have done so long time ago before lives were taken under the cold moonlight.” -Princess Alminah |Chapter 1: Blood Wars and Betrothal Under the cold night in the large field of Vado, the armies from the kingdom continued to suffer from loss of numbers against the Teuton tribes. Those knights of the king