The Blackest Knight

by Michael S. Melendez

  The Blackest Knight

  Chapter 1

  Avia. December 12, 1198.

  It was on that day that everything changed.

  Avia was a hub for slavery. It was their main economic source besides iron from the mine. It didn’t matter who it was. If you couldn’t pay your taxes, which were outrageously high, then you were sold into slavery. Rumor had it that the mad king even sold his own children into slavery.

  The mad king and his family had no idea of the coup being plotted right under their noses. The people have had enough. They lose mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, sons and daughters thanks to the mad king's rule. Most were farmers, others soldiers, but hardly any of them had ever held a sword in their lives. The coup would end before it even began but they would try no matter what.

  Under the cover of darkness, the capital city was attacked. Homes burned, soldiers impaled on spears, the walls crumbled. For awhile it seemed the coup would succeed, but the mad king is no fool. He had allies. Many of the surround kingdoms and houses, who’s lively hoods would be affected by this change stood by the mad king. The were out manned a thousand to one.

  But when all hope seemed to be lost—he came. The Black Knight.

  The wind blew fiercely, the moon turned blood red, and the lightning from the storm was black. Some day he was a towering monster. Tallest man who ever lived. His armor was as black as night. His eyes red like the flame of a candle. And on his back was a tattered red cloak.

  A man? Nay. He was a monster. His sword cut through then like butter left out on a warm day. No one could stop him. For no one could touch him. 100,000 men in the mad kings army. All dead within an hour. The Black Knight singlehandedly turned the tide in that war.

  The mad king, his wife, daughter and sons—all dead. All but one. The Black Knight saw no need for the boy’s death and spared him. As did the new king of Avia, Rodrick Maller. The boy was spared but was sealed away in the dungeon until he paid off his dues. He would be Avia’s champion and fight those who want a trial by combat. Only until he has defeated one million men in combat shall he go free.

  That was ten years ago. Now the boy sits in a jail cell waiting for next opponent. His name is Vincent Valentine.

  Vincent spent most of his time looking out the window feeding birds that land just outside his barred window. He’d take a piece of the stale bread he was given, crush it in his hand, and feed them by hand. Vincent liked birds and birds liked him. Each day it was a different bird. Sometimes it's a red-breasted sparrow, other times it was an ordinary pigeon. Today it's a falcon.

  They never flew away from Vincent when he reached out to pet them. They seemed to enjoy his touch. Albeit it was with his right arm which was bandaged just past the elbow.

  From within the dungeon, Vincent heard the loud clattering of chains coming his way. The sound spoked the falcon off. Vincent sighed.

  “Good morning, your highness.” The jailer said. “Feeding birds again?”

  “They’re great company.” He said. “Birds are more honest creatures than man ever will be.”

  The jailer laughed. “I think being locked up for so long has made you go mad. Though as the saying goes—like father like son.”

  Vincent sigh. He hears jokes like that at least once a week. “I take it you’re here for a reason. What is it?”

  “What do you think? More men have requested a trial by combat.”

  Vincent walked over and put his hands into the hole where they normally bring him his food. The jailer then proceeded to shackle his wrist together. They were rusty and dug deep into his wrists the more he walked. By the time they were finally off his wrists they were already bleeding.

  He was led outside, still shackled, and now he had the people to deal with. They hate him. Vincent didn’t have one friend in all of Avia. It was understandable. How many of them lost a loved one because of his father’s law? The answer: All of them.

  Everyone looked at Vincent with the intent to kill. The blood lust in the air was as thick as fog. If not for the protection that the king has granted him, Vincent would’ve been killed in the streets years ago.

  The arena was massive in size. It seated fifty thousand people. It was now used as a staging area for those who seek a trial by combat, but before it was the host to vicious games.

  The mad king referred to them as unwanted slaves. Those who would sit at the market for months and never be sold off. He would buy them, using the taxpayer money, and have them thrown into the arena. He would watch as they were torn apart by various animals. He would laugh in amusement. As would many others who watched on. Even now, as Vincent ascended the stairs to the arena, he could hear his father’s laughter.

  Upon reaching the top of the stairs. The jailer unshackled him, he was stripped down to his britches, and given a sword and shield. The sword was barely able to exit its sheath with how rusty it was. The shield was no better. Cracked, rotted, and barely holding together. No surprise. It was the same sword and shield he’s been using for ten years. Countless battles, bloodstains, would make any weapon break down after such a long time without repairs.

  The gates opened. Vincent stepped out into the arena and was immediately hit by a rock. Gave him a cut just above his eye.

  “Fucking die!”

  “Mad king spawn! I lost my daughter because of you!”

  It was always the same. Wounds such as theirs never truly heal. How could they? Vincent may have had nothing to do with what his father did, but just the mere thought of one of his spawns still breathing made their wounds burn and fester with each passing day.

  The king, Rodrick Maller, and his two children, his son Zeke and his daughter Piña soon joined from their private booth the looked over the arena. Silence soon descended.

  Rodrick was a rough looking man. He was blind in his right eye. Most likely inflicted upon him during the coup. He and his son had rust color hair while Piña’s hair was a curly auburn.

  Rodrick stood up and threw his black cloak off his back. He clapped and the crowd cheered.

  The gates just opposite of Vincent opened. Out stepped three men. Armed with axes, swords, and shields.

  The tallest and obviously strongest one of the three charged at Vincent. He raised his axe and bore all his might into his swing. Vincent raised his shield to block the attack. He could feel the entire weight of this man starting to crush him. The shield was never going to last.

  He ducked and threw the now fractured shield off his arm. In an instant, Vincent slit the man’s stomach open and his innards and bile spewed from his gut. He was frantic and tried to put his innards back inside his body. Vincent finished him off with a quick thrust to the chest. The sword broke.

  Though weaponless, the other two men seemed frightful of Vincent. The way they hold themselves seemed like they have never held a weapon before. It would seem like the man Vincent easily killed was their only hope of getting out of this alive. They threw their weapons to the ground and held up their hands.

  “Please don’t kill us!” one of the men said.

  Vincent paused for a moment. He turned his gaze to Rodrick. Their eyes met. He was looking for some sort of direction. Rodrick stood up. Once again the crowd goes quiet. Rodrick held out his thumb and gave them a thumb’s down. The crowd once again starts cheering. Vincent sighed.

  He grabbed the axe off the floor. “Sorry. I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

  Vincent charged at the man closest to him. He gripped the axe firmly in his hand and drove straight into his neck nearly decapitating him. Blood squirted from the gaping wound and sprayed him on the chest. The other man was scratching at the stone walls of the arena trying to find a way to climb up. With his back turned, Vincent hurled t
he axe at him and split the back of his head in half. The man fell to the ground and a pool of blood soon formed. The crowd booed.

  “Cheater!”

  “You should be the one dead!”

  “I hope you rot!”

  Vincent was soon put back in chains and escorted back into the waiting room. There he was cleaned with two bucks of freezing water. The guards idea. He was then escorted back to his cell and given back his clothes. If he was lucky he was able to see the outside world three times a month. Longest he’s been in his cell is three months. Perhaps that’s why birds love him so much. He’s a caged bird who cannot fly. They might feel some sort of kinship with him.

  “Oh, the falcon’s back.” He muttered.

  After that duel in the arena was done everyone went back to their lives. Piña felt in need of a bath. A black corset vest does not breath. If anything it makes her hotter. She’d rather wear armor any day then that suffocating thing called a dress.

  She was relaxing in her marble tub. Her chambermaid, Clara, was busy washing her hair.

  “Amazing.” Piña said.

  “Thank you,” Clara replied.

  “What? No. Not the hair washing. Although you do have amazingly delicate hands. I was referring to the boy.”

  “The boy, your grace?”

  “Vincent.”

  “Oh. He’s hardly a boy. He’s about the same age as us if I’m not mistaken.”

  “That is true. Maybe even older. Who can say for sure? Anyway, I find him amazing. Ten years and I’ve seen each one of this battles. No one can even so much as lay a hand on him. His talents are wasted being Avia’s champion. Not to mention being locked away in the horrible cell.”

  “What can you do? The Black Knight spared him, your father saw fit to honor that decision by locking him away. Only until he defeats one million people in a trial by combat can he go free.”

  “That’s my point. How long will something like that take? I don’t even know how many he’s defeated over this last decade.”

  “256,923,” Clara said.

  Piña sat up and turned. “How did you know that?” she asked.

  “I’m sorta good with numbers. It’s one of the main reasons my father runs the treasury in this kingdom. It’s also something I inherited from him. Over the last ten years, I’ve also seen all of Vincent’s duels. I remember them all. He looks like he’s…in pain. All the time…”

  Clara began to drift off. Piña snapped her fingers. “Clara? Clara are you there?”

  “Hm. What? Oh, sorry. I kinda got lost in my thought. What were we talking about?”

  “Vincent.”

  “Ah right.”

  “I wonder why the Black Knight spared him that day. Any ideas?”

  “Actually yes, but I doubt my opinion matters.”

  “Clara, your opinion always matters to me.”

  “Very well. I believe Vincent was spared because he wasn’t like his father, mother, brother, or sister. That he wasn’t mad like them. Believe it or not, rumors had it that Vincent was very vocal against his family. He tried to stop them, but he was just a little boy and the youngest at that. He had no power. Perhaps the Black Knight saw that in him.”

  “Perhaps. Still, I find one thing very strange.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why is Vincent’s hair white, but the rest of his families hair color was scarlet. I saw the old paintings of the royal family. His hair wasn’t always white. It was like the rest. Scarlet. How strange.”

  “They found him crying on top of his family. Perhaps it was fright. Some scholars theorized that a traumatic frightening experience has that effect.”

  “Perhaps. Still. That boy is shrouded in mystery. Do you know he feeds birds? That’s what the jailer tells me. Birds are drawn to him like a shark is to blood. So odd. Yet so intriguing.”

  Clara smiled. “Still loved by birds, aye, Vincent?” she mumbled.

  “Did you say something, Clara?”

  “What? No. The way you speak of Vincent you almost sound like you fancy him.”

  Piña chuckled. “Hardly. Even if I did my father would never allow such a thing. No. I intend you use Vincent. Put his skills too much more meaningful things.”

  Chapter 2

  Clara helped Piña into her armor. Underneath she wore black leather. The stitching itself was lined with chain mail. Next came the heavy steel breastplate. It was new, as far as anyone could tell. Piña isn’t the type of person to get into fights unless she has to. The armor has seen some combat. That was made apparent by some minor scratches that looked as thought a cat used it as a scratching post, but other than that it was in fine condition.

  Piña didn’t need any held putting on her boots and gauntlets. So she had Clara tie her hair into a nice long tight braid. Clara handed Piña her sword which she then tied off to her belt. She hardly went anywhere without it. She excused Clara for the day and set off to see her father.

  The castle of Avia, despite the coup being over for ten years now, was still having renovations done to it. The mad king had the entire castle decorated with black velvet and instead of a vase of flowers he had skulls with lit candles in each eye socket. They were the skulls of those who fought and died in the arena.

  The king hired a gnome decorator to help him make the castle seem more inviting. There was a potted plant next to every door and the frightful black velvet was removed. The stone walls were destroyed and replaced with white ivory. It brought some life back to the castle.

  Piña found her father just pass the throne room in his study. Her brother Zeke was there and it seemed as though her sudden appearance paused their discussion.

  “Father, I must speak with you.” Piña said.

  “Get in line, sister. I was here first.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you are boring father with you latest conquest of whores down at the brothel. How many bastards do you have now? Thirty?”

  Zeke sprang from his chair. “You will not speak to me in such a manner!” he yelled. “I am the prince! Don’t you forget that!”

  “Enough!” Rodrick barked. “Zeke, we will discuss what you proposed another time. For now, go cool off in the courtyard. Now!”

  Zeke clenched his jaw. “Yes, father.”

  Piña waiting for Zeke to leave the room. “Father, I want you to approve my exploration of the mountain range to the east. I also want Vincent Valentine to be part of the team.”

  Rodrick stopped writing on his parchment, set his quill down and asked, “Why?”

  “You and I both know that his talents are wasted on these trial by combat scenarios. In ten years, not a single combatant has been able to touch him. You can’t teach skills like that. He’s a prodigy who’s rotting away in a dirty jail cell.”

  “The boy will stay there until he has killed one million combatant. That was the arraignment.”

  “256,923. At this rate, he’ll be done in thirty years. Since he is in our custody, why not use him? I’m not saying to let him go. I’m saying use him for the good of Avia.”

  Rodrick glared at her for a moment. Piña could feel beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Her father truly was an intimidating man. “And how do you propose we do that?” he asked.

  “The Old Religion. There are ruins in that mountain range from the people of the Old Religion. The people may not be around anymore, but their information and technology still lives on. Think about it, father, we can be the most advanced kingdom in all the world. No one could challenge us. No one would ever dare raise a brow to us. We would be unstoppable and we would never need to lift so much as a finger.”

  Rodrick chuckled. “I suppose it would make the transition from the mad king’s kingdom into my kingdom much smoother. Despite the mad king’s death at the hand of the Black Knight ten years ago, he still seems to have many allies who would love to see Vincent take the throne.

  Alright, daughter, you’ve convinced me. You can take Vincent with you on this expedition of yours, but if he esc
apes, it’ll be on your head. If he is successful in returning then I shall take off 1,000 kills he needs to win his freedom. I’ll have the jailer inform him.”

  “No, I’ll go do it myself.”

  Piña journeyed down into the deepest part of the castle. She knew her way to the dungeon but never went herself. The air was stale, she kicked up a great amount of dirt with each step. It would seem that not even the servant charged with cleaning the castle would come this far.

  Piña reached the bottom of the landing. The jailer saw her and bowed. “Your grace.” He said.

  “Take me to Vincent. I need to speak with him.”

  “As you say.” The jailer opened the door and escorted Piña to Vincent cell all the way down the hall. Thet reached his cell and saw Vincent meditating with a blue jay on each shoulder.

  “Does he do this often?” she asked.

  “Quite often. I actually believe there is more bird shit in his cell than his own. I’ll leave you be to your business.” The jailer went back to his post.

  Piña stepped closer to the iron bars. “Vincent Valentine. The fallen prince. I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. I’m—”

  “Piña Maller. The new princess of Avia,” he interrupted. “To what do, I owe the pleasure?”

  Piña was surprised. “How did you know it was me? You didn’t even open your eyes.”

  “Your smell. All the ladies of Avia were lilac extract perfume. So, either you were someone I knew before I was locked away, which was very doubtful seeing as no one but the jailer has come to see me in ten years, or you were Piña Maller. I chose the latter.”

  Piña smirked. “Perceptive.” She muttered. “So, tell me, how would you like to get out of your cage for a few days?”

  Vincent’s eyes shot open. “Okay, you have my attention.”

  “My father has agreed to let you out for a few days. In exchange, you will be in my custody and accompany me to the mountain range in the west. Upon complication on this assignment, my father will take off one thousand kills of the one million you need to be free.”