Chapter Text
In a land filled with beasts and magic, shields and crowns, love and war, a boy was born with a terrible curse. The firstborn son of King Geruman was born on a night of wind and rain, pale as bone and heart silent stone. His mother wept for her son, wishing upon the heavens to change his fate at any cost, and the heavens themselves responded.
Thunder struck and the clouds parted in the night and to the mother alone an angel appeared in the night. The candles blew out and a choir carried through the wind as a halo of blinding light lit the room.
“My Lady, your son may rise on Christ’s morn, but from his life you will be torn. Anoint upon him your blood and see by sunrise he will be, and your woe will be gone, but know in doing so it will be your own soul ascending this dawn.”
Thus for but a single night the mother cherished her son against her bosom and together they lay with crimson blood pressed to forehead and heart. For the King she left only one message, “May my son live.”
At sunrise the next day King Geruman alone heard the cry from the Queen’s chamber, and in fright rushed to her aid, and found himself befuddled by grief and joy. His son, heir to crown and kingdom, had drawn his first breath! But his wife, loyal and steadfast, had drawn her last.
He gathered his son from lifeless breast and wiped the blood aside. He would heed the dying wish of his Queen.
To show his miracle to the Lord and the Lord to he, the King was to have his son’s first sight be the dawning light over his land, and his son’s eyes did open, but it was a shocking sight for they were red as the hearth’s flame.
He would heed the last wish of his wife, King Geruman would devote himself to the protection of his son, Gilbert. He would protect him from the world, that he may never know he is different.
It was announced to his vassalage that a great tragedy had struck in the night and the Queen had died and the Prince stillborn. Only within the confines of a castle tower did anyone know of the Prince’s presence, for he needed caretakers. Any who accused the Prince of having the soul of a demon were exiled from the land.
Upon sight of his son’s visage there was shock and woe. All within the castle were to swear an oath to the King himself in protecting the secret of his son’s life, at the price of death. The prince was never to know what lay beyond the castle walls, and through the entirety of his childhood years this remained true.
Their land was modest, as was their castle, and within ten years Prince Gilbert had grown into a fine lad with curiosity tempered by obedience. Every wish of his Lord Father was for his safety, as such he would never disobey, but from his tower where he slept there was one window that could see beyond the castle walls and see fields of straw and grass where the sun would fall every eve.
Knights on horseback would trample through the fields and the young Prince Gilbert grew a sense of wonder at watching them. He began to dream of adventuring beyond the walls, thinking himself a hero of chivalry from his storybooks.
He would ask his Lord Father for knighthood, but was told that was not the station of the first Prince. Yet, his Lord Father who cared deeply for his son, delivered to him personally a sword that was to be his legacy blade. Engraved with the crest of an eagle upon the pommel it would protect their land.
He received lessons in swordsmanship alongside his rigorous studies in literature and politics. There was never an idle moment as Gilbert felt himself destined for greatness, he knew to train himself well for the day he would be called upon to fight.
Many years passed in this fashion and Gilbert was never called. He began to grow impatient. The castle that once seemed perfectly large had begun to confine him like prison bars. To his Lord Father he spoke of such only once, as he received a warning most serious and unlike his caring Lord Father, that he knew not to ask again.
“My son, were you to be seen outside of these castle walls you would be lost to me forever. Stay here you must and stay here you will.”
“My Lord Father-!”
“Silence!”
The King felt his own heart wounded at the despair of his son, but fear had consumed his heart. His son did not know, but the land had fallen into disarray. Banditry was rampant and revolt was stirring within the hearts of the peasantry, but his grief and fear were consuming the heart and mind of the King, and he had forgotten his role to the people. If he could only keep the last wish of his Queen then he believed within he was good.
“Swear to me you will never leave and I will never worry.”
That was the last they spoke, for the very next day a war broke between the kingdoms. With nary a farewell Gilbert would see his Lord Father leading their army beyond where the sun falls, and never did he see a return.
News through his attendants came that a great battle had taken place and his Lord Father had been captured and ransomed back to the kingdom, and that they could not afford the price. Continuing their march the enemy would surely surround and siege the castle, claiming the land and vassalage as their own.
Distraught, Gilbert could not sit idle. He summoned every attendant within the castle and came up with a plan of rescue more great and more valiant than any tale could be. The fruition of his training was to come in his next steps, and he need only prepare for journey.
He was a prince unknown to the kingdom and world, as such he could not go questing as a prince, he would be a knight. His Lord Father could not do it thus he commanded the castellan to knight him, he was now Sir Gilbert.
There remained no warhorses in the stables, as such Sir Gilbert took a packmule as his loyal steed. He felt himself a natural chevalier atop his surefooted friend as they practiced striding through the bailey.
From the smith he acquired armor of leather padding and mail, for they had no plate. To conceal his visage he was given a black helm for battle and a hooded cape for riding. He had sworn to his Lord Father never to leave and such he must never be discovered, he knew there to be no other within the land as he, and so his face would remain concealed.
With supplies for few months journey he gathered his people, who had been loyal his whole life.
“Farewell my friends, I thank you for all you have done. Rest easy and know that some morrow King and son will come, and the peace to the land will be restored.”
Thus he set off, chasing the sun.