Knights in Shining Armour: A Tale Of Love

Holy s**t, Hazel thought to herself, he’s gorgeous. She’d just been introduced to the newest member of the combat team and boy was she in awe. This new man was tall, over six feet tall, slender but visibly strong, with piercing blue eyes and the blondest of hair. He smiled graciously at Hazel as they were introduced, maintaining eye contact with her for what felt like a century, before being moved on to the rest of the team. Hazel had never been one for blondes but something about this man, Andrew, had her immediately charmed. The King and Queen of Mosvil had little reason for warriors and knights in the context of genuine battle. The region of Mosvil had been peaceful with its surrounding neighbours for centuries now, and it didn’t seem that this would change any time soon. The townsfolk of Dreake and Coloot lived harmoniously, largely because the King and Queen chose to live relatively frugally for royalty. They were not cruel or harsh rulers, and only stepped into local politics when something drastic occurred. Monarchies in farther reaching regions judged the people of Mosvil for being weak, but if weakness begets happiness then the people there were happy to be considered weak. This view also begat the perception that Mosvil wasn’t worth invading. Hazel had been born and raised in Coloot, her parents farmed cattle and traded them at the town square. Her mother had taken her to the great Mosvil Castle once and she’d left declaring that she would one day be a knight atop a noble steed, performing in jousts at the castle tournaments. As a teenager she’d been offered a role as page at the castle, learning the arts of sword fighting, archery, horse riding and the intricacies of heraldry and armour. Now as a young woman, Hazel had been promoted to squire, enjoying less menial duties, and being more involved in tourneys. Along with their team of jousters, squires and pages, the castle had a combat team that would do displays for the King and Queen, and for the Mosvil villagers. Hazel occasionally assisted these combatants with their armour, doing repairs on gambesons and polishing their swords, axes, daggers, and any other weapons that required polishing. Hazel’s favourite role within the castle was caring for the horses. They were huge and stunning, and for the most part well behaved. She’d started getting lessons when she was a page and had become quite an impressive horsewoman. The jesters and heralds watched her training sometimes and would comment on her fierce tenacity when it came to approaching the quintain. Even members of the combat team would shake their heads at her, claiming to be far happier on the ground than on horseback. Hazel herself didn’t particularly look like knight material, she was average height, stocky, her round face covered in freckles, and her dusty brown hair too unruly to leave out so she’d tie it up in messy braids. She’d never had any talent for braiding so her hairstyle was purely practical. She generally dressed in a squire’s tabard with leggings and a long leather belt gifted to her from her father. For tournaments she was loaned a two-toned gambeson to wear, along with a dented breastplate that she’d done her absolute best to return to its former glory. She’d been in the middle of sewing up a tear in the loaned gambeson when she encountered Andrew for the second time. She sat in the armoury, humming to herself as she sewed up the tear, pondering how it had gotten there in the first place. “Morning Hazel”. Hazel jumped, she hadn’t heard Andrew come in. “Good morning Andrew, what brings you to the armoury this morning? I don’t think there’s any training until midday”, Hazel said, gazing at Andrew before darting her eyes back down to the sewing at hand. “No you’re right, I guess I’m just trying to get a better understanding of where everything is, plus I wouldn’t mind polishing up my armour before heading out there”, Andrew pulled a heavy bag out from a shelf along the side of the armoury. He slowly began removing the pieces of armour within, placing them gently on the floor. “I can polish some of it for you if you’d like”, Hazel gazed at Andrew again, her eyes scanning over his slender form. She noticed how delicate his nose was, thin and pointed but not too much so to look like some kind of goblin. More like a high elf from the stories her grandmother had told her as a child. Andrew continued arranging his armour on the floor, though he smiled as he did so. “That is very kind of you, but I quite like doing it myself. I find it soothing”. Hazel smiled too, she felt the same way. Some of the team hated it, they found it boring and lacking action. Hazel returned to her sewing, feeling an easy silence wash over them. It was rare to feel comfortable in silence with someone who was basically a stranger, but Hazel intuitively recognised Andrew as someone who didn’t mind silence, nor would he judge her for not speaking continuously as others did. “You were humming before, you can keep doing so if you’d like”, Andrew broke the silence, his head bowed towards his armour but his eyes directed at Hazel. His grin and raised eyebrow nearly knocked Hazel over, but she simply returned the smile and replied, “I generally only do that when I’m alone”. Andrew kept his eyes on Hazel a moment longer, “I understand, I personally adore singing but I’m told I have absolutely no sense of tune”. Hazel laughed and shook her head into her sewing. “I’m sure you do, you just haven’t found the right audience yet”. “No truly, I fear if I sing in front of anyone I’ll get arrested and put in the stocks”, Andrew laughed with Hazel, his voice deep and caramel.