The Red Knight Of Chalon

The Red Knight Of Chalon
adapted by the player of Alessandro Grudgebringer from the original work of Alessio Cavatore

Lambert de Lillaz rode along a narrow path, in the very heart of the Forest of Chalon. Under the dense foliage, the light of the day was reduced to a grey haze, but following the tracks left by the one whom he hunted was not difficult. It appeared in fact, that there had been no attempt made, to conceal them. Alas! What an arrogant villain this must be who did not fear the rightful vengeance of the Knights of Bretonnia!

That very morning, just another day in his long quest for the Holy Grail, Lambert had passed through a woodcutters' village at the edge of the forest. The peasants living there had begged him to save them from the 'Red Knight'. They told him in despair, how this terrible warrior had ridden into their village over the last four nights, to abduct their sons and daughters. The deviant had been clad in a blood-red armour, they had told him, and mounted atop a huge, black warhorse. The device on his shield, an imposing a symbol as any they'd seen before, was that of a coild, black dragon on a red field. Lambert recognised the warrior as one of the cursed Knights of Blood, and knew that this was a trial set by the Lady herself, one of the many a knight had to overcome before he could find and drink from the Grail.

In the dim light of sunset, the path led Lambert to a clearing. And there his quarry was! Standing tall and proud in the centre of the glade, and almost seemed to be waiting for the young Questing Knight. He was wearing no helm, and Lambert noted the striking contrast between a dark mane of thin hair, a pale complexion, and full, crimson plate-mail. His charger was tethered to a nearby oak. The Knight of Blood smiled engimatically, examining the approaching Bretonnian.

"I am Lambert de Lillaz, Knight of Bretonnia! Mount your steed and prepare to fight. May the Lady favour me, and give me the strength to strike you down, and end your evil deeds!" sounded Lambert's proud challenge.

There followed a few tense seconds of silence, and then the vampire spoke calmly. "You should not be so concerned about the fate of these commoners, young Lambert. They are not worth what you risk, and this duel is meaningless. Determined as you are, you have little hope of besting me, and I take no interest in such un-balanced confrontations. I am already sated with the blood of those peasants, and I do not need to take your life. Ride away."

What arrogance, fumed Lambert, deep rage overcoming his reason. He lowered his lance, and spurred on his warhorse, charging the vampire where he stood. "For the Lady, and for the King!" he cried, and his opponent did not move. Lambert's lance found its mark, the steel tip piercing red armour and burying itself deep into the vampire's flesh. The lance splintered as Lambert galloped by, and the young knight was filled by a sense of triumph. He had vanquished the abomination! Nothing could withstand such a terrible impact, he smiled, and turned his warhorse around.

The Red Knight was still standing. The lance had penetrated his chest just under the collarbone, and the tip protruded from below his shoulder-blade. The creature turned, also, and pulled the thick wooden shaft from his body. He dropped it to the ground, non-chalantly. Only a very thin stream of blood trickled from the gaping wound. "A good jousting display, Lambert de Lillaz, and one which would have been the end for the lesser of my kin. But I told you that you cannot win this combat. I will not repeat myself again. Leave."

Lambert was astonished by the vampire's resilience, and felt a strong urge to flee from the glade, as far from the place as possible, but he controlled his fear, and answered, with defiance: "Perhaps you are right, creature of the knight, perhaps I cannot defeat you. But I am a Knight, and will not surrender. Death is preferable to cowardice. Defend yourself!" The Bretonnian drew his sword, and once more, applied the spurs to his warhorse. Reaching the Red Knight, he swung the blade in a wide, deadly arc, with all the strength he could muster.

This time, the vampire reacted. With blinding speed, his left hand raised, and caught Lambert's wrist in an iron grasp, while the right stopped the charging warhorse, clutching at the beast's neck. The sudden halt in impetus shocked both the animal and the young knight, and they found themselves immobilised and helpless, at the mercy of an un-natural predator. For a second, the eyes of the two knights met. Looking into pools of ancient evil, Lambert realised that this was evil against which he could not prevail. Then the vampire unhorsed Lambert with a twist of his powerful arm, and flung the boy into the trees. The Bretonnian crashed into a stump, and blackness engulfed him.

When Lambert opened his eyes, surprised that he was still alive, the Red Knight was in front of him, a sad smile on thin lips. Lambert realised that he had been thrown over the saddle of his own horse. He tried to move, but his body was overwhelmed by pain, and his muscles would not respond.

"I am sparing your life, Lambert, for you fought with courage. And I will leave this forest; you have saved your precious peasants, and so your pride is intact. Now let your good steed take you to the village. There you will rest, and heal, so that you can continue your quest. If you complete it, you will become a more interesting opponent, and maybe we will have a fairer duel, should we meet again. My name is Khaleb, of the Order of the Blood Dragon, and if you have gleaned anything from today's experience, it is that you will not come after me before you are truly ready. Fare thee well, Knight of Bretonnia."

The vampire patted the horse's side, and it trotted back towards the path from whence it had come, carrying Lambert with it. The young knight realised that he had indeed, gleaned something from the encounter. He had been taught a hard, but necessary lesson. Only now did he understand that he was lacking one of the most important virtues a true Knight could have. To reach perfection and see the Grail, a Knight needed humility. He praised the Lady for this revelation, and then slipped once more into unconsciousness.

Khaleb couldn't help feeling that in the future, he would meet Lambert again, and perhaps, would come to regret not having killed him now. He had clashed with enough Grail Knighs to not undestimate them, but something in his tainted blood stopped him from taking any pride in defeating a knight in an uneven fight. And that boy reminded him of a distant past, of a time when he was not doomed to dirnk the blood of the living to survive. The Knight of Blood shrugged off these uneasy feelings, mounted his black charger, and went on his way, out of the forest.

As the vampire rode on, the light of a full moon caught a reflection on his shield, revealing just for an instant his old emblem, long ago replaced by the Blood Dragon icon.

It was a Fleur de Lys.

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