3. The Courtings of the Rose Knight

The Courtings of the Rose Knight


  • _My Lady Firehair, I, Rico Swift, a humble knight of your order, compose these missives in hopes of pleasing, entertaining, and winning thy favor. You have already given me so much in your infinite grace and charity, and I have forever pledged to serve thee.

    There is so much beauty in this world, and I long for the day when I might behold thy own lovely countenance, of which all earthly and mortal beauty is but a shadow. The wonders of this world merely hint at the greater sight and pleasure I know wait beyond, like the reflection of rainbow in a dewdrop.

    I can only hope that my travels and deeds please you, serve you, and, if you would permit me a moment's boldness, a token or three of the barest of thy affections. I endeavor to cultivate love and beauty wherever I can, to protect it with my life, and to guard against that which corrupts, all in thy glorious name as long as it should please thee to do so._

    As Rico finishes each letter, he soaks the vellum in perfumed oil then sets it in a small brazier set in front of a mirror and sets it alight, to be carried off to his mistress in the Brightwaters.


  • _Milady, I have not written you for some time. A folly of pride as I encountered few problems it seemed I could not resolve on my own once confronted, but thinking back, I realize that each time I could not have done so without you and your gifts. For that I must apologize and accept whatever chastisement you have to offer.

    My ventures has been mostly successful. Mostly. In recent days I have, with help of a fledgling knight of Lathander and a few others, torn down a cult worshiping a foul hooked beast as a false god. Though the Shadovar give us consternation, with the return of the song mistress Val I'm certain we'll be able to defeat them, all in order to protect the land and the people I hold dear. I ask for your blessing in the coming struggles.

    The tides of war are stirring. After Jiyyd, I cannot allow that to pass. I know I have asked much of you in one letter, but the spirit of vengeance must be eased in the hearts of the East peoples who now call themselves Children of Hoar. For every zealot I have met, I have known many with good and honorable hearts. Those are the hearts that must be opened if war is to be averted. A leader cannot stand without his people.

    My friend and compatriot in battle, Troff, passed in the battle to recover Val, as did many others. But he is a proud and spiteful, and it clouds his heart. The theft of Val and his inability to force the Shadovar General to return her struck him deeply. I saw it myself, as I fought side by side with him, facing an opponent that even Cara's blade could not scratch through all the layers of magic. I would have died in the second encounter, had I not heard your call back to life. But I fear Troff is letting his pride dictate his actions, not his heart. I know he is of Lathander, but if you could visit his spirit once and warm it, I hope he will see past to what is truly important. But if it is Troff's time, I understand. He will be missed.

    I have new muse, and irony of ironies, this one is almost as bad as the last. Miss Diadne, a wielder of flame and a devotee of Kossuth. She is most lovely, and I had not thought her interested, but I have ever played the fool in acts of love. It did not even occur to me how romantic a walk in the woods to a secluded island overlooking the shoreline might be. Is it love I feel for her? I cannot say. In my youth, I would have said yes. But now? It is those same feelings, that subtle joy as two spirits are drawn close together. But is it love? I do not know. But it is new, and she is beautiful, and I like it.

    I shall begin an endeavor, to discover my own feelings and to better know hers. A gemstone, uncommon to volcanic soul and unknown in others, has come into my possession, and now so have two brothers. I would like to craft her a beautiful token of my affections. I shall endeavor to find more stones, and when I've enough, I'll let my heart speak through the creation, and hear what it has to say._


  • My dear lady, I must thank you for the good fortune and affection you have sent my way. The love of a good woman is a salve unlike any other for the wounds of the heart and spirit. In Joanna, I find a soul complimentary to my own. She serves the natural world, and in it there is much that is beautiful. I am concerned for her devotion to Auril, but after speaking to her, I understand this now for what it truly is. Your enemy the Frostmaiden, that fury of the frozen heart, is not what my dear druid reveres, but rather the Winter itself, and it's roll in the renewal of the land. For as the night must fall before the dawn, Winter must chill the lands before the Spring. My woodland warrioress serves that natural order, not the one who would see that Spring never returned. With time, and love, I shall help her see that.

    //Oh my naive little paladin. It's cute that you think that.//


  • //As a departure, this one is a more traditional naration than a letter.//

    _In the darkest corner of the Grapevine, a man, cloaked in his own misery, downs another ale with undue rapidity. It's only his second glass, but a high alcohol tolerance has never been one of his lauded virtues.

    "Barmaid, another ale, please!" he shouts.

    Yumiko casts a glance over the man. He's seen better days. His long blonde locks are unkempt, his beard unshaven, and there are dark bags under his eyes. True enough, he was a sorry sight for anyone, but she knew the young knight had further to fall to reach this point.

    "Mister, I think you've had one too many. Literally. I'm going to have to cut you off. You should go get some sleep."

    Rico looks up and sees the pitying look in her eyes. "Alright, fine. I even fail at drowning my sorrows" he mutters as he walk off to a bed, struggling with an insidious gravity the whole time. By the time he's reached one in a private room he's listed and enumerated his failures for the benefit of no one in particular, as his morose presence causes many to shy away from him.

    "I can't lead. I can't stop a wizard when he threatens lives. I can't rescue kidnapped women. Can't solve a murder. Can't even help the people I call friends. …I just screw it all up." Rico glares at his own face in a mirror as he takes off his boots, then something catches his eye. On the dresser beneath the mirror, he notices a vase with a rose in it, its petals shriveled and nearly black. "A fine Rose Knight I make. Even she'd be better off without me." And with that last thought, the man threw himself on the bed, hoping in vain to sleep his troubles away.

    In a two young boys, no more than ten summers old, run through a field. Both are armed with a thin tree branches. One has a mop of hair the color of white-gold corn silk, the other bearing a swath of ruddy red curls. As they exit the field, the redhead turns to face his blond foe.

    "Stand and fight, you dogless curr!" the blonde boy shouts, brandishing his trusty weapon that he found beneath the oak tree not three moments ago.

    "Dogless? Rico, that doesn't even make sense."

    "Stay in character. You can make up the insults when you play the knight and I play the gobber. Now have at thee!" The two swing simultaneously, their -blades- meeting over and over again. Occasionally one or the other took a blow to the hand or knee. On a nearby hill Rico watched his younger self play at knighthood in his father's fields.

    "Playing…I never really stopped I guess. I've just been playing at it this whole time."

    "Now that's just not true, son, and you know it." Rico turned to see a man standing next to him. He was older, with a wreath of grey on an otherwise smooth pate, and a deep tan that contrasted his bright white smile. He was as strong and imposing a figure as Rico remembered, and he saw those same eyes in a mirror every morning.

    "Da...what are you doing here? You've been dead ten years now."

    "Aye, but that doesn't mean I'm not here for my children when they need me. Now do I get a hug or not?"

    Rico rushed forward to grip the man tight. "This must be a dream."

    "Nevermind that now, me boy. I've come to knock some sense into your thick head. You always were your mother's child. Always trying to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, whether you can manage it or not. But that's why I loved her, and that kind heart is her gift to you."

    "What use is a kind heart without the strength to do what it tells you to?"

    "Rico, you think yourself weak because you got trounced by a few who rigged the game from the get go? My boy, that's not it at all...here, watch this." Rico's father points to the two boys, still playing. The redheaded boy knocks the blonde one off his feet with a stinging swat to the back of the leg. Young Rico hits the ground with a thud, and gasps as the air is knocked from his lungs. The victorious child hoots and hollers.

    "Woo! Yeah! Team Gobbers wins again! Take that you stupid paladin," he chants. The younger Rico struggles to his feet.

    "It was a lucky shot. Let's go again."

    "Fine, it's your funeral."

    "Fine."

    "Fine!" And the scene repeats itself. Each time it's the same. Young Rico is bested and knocked prone by his opponent in a child's mortal combat. And each time Rico stands. Three times it happens, until on the fourth bout Rico lunges forward with a heavy strike that knocks the stick from the other boy's hand, then swings his own in a clockwise arc suddenly to knock him to the ground.

    "Aww yeah, Rico is victorious!" he chants.

    Back on the hill, the older Rico meets his father's gaze. "Don't you see, son? In life, we get knocked on our back all the time. Happens to everyone. Happened to me. Happened to you. Will keep happening to you. But that's your strength. That's your power. And that, more than any mighty thews or sharpened steel, is what allows you to best serve your lady Sune. When life knocks you down, you get back up." He placed his hand on Rico shoulder, and Rico stared it, clasping it with his own, as though he never wanted it to end.

    "Rico, son, you're still on your back. You need to get up."

    The sunrise pierced the drawn curtains as if they weren't even there and awoke Rico from his slumber. His head throbbed and his tongue tasted something foul. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but instead sat up and looked down at his hand.

    "Da…"

    Rico got up and walked over to the wash basin in front of the mirror. He looked at himself for a moment, then walked downstairs to procure a hot kettle of water and a bar of soap.

    He never notices the flower on the dresser...the red rose in the slender vase, lush, vibrant and full of color._

    //Hope you like it. It's may way of dialing back the emo on Rico at present. I actually love the DM and player plotlines I'm in right now, and especially love to ham things up…but that kind of play gets old fast. So I'm normalizing Rico and renewing his passion. And if he ever does fall, it won't be for something like this if I have anything to say about it. He'll fall for the same reason he does anything. For love.//


  • _Oh sorrow of sorrows. I feel as though I have plunged a dagger into my own heart. If only.

    The mad man has broken the spirit of our arrangement. He has not slain the women, but holds them still in bondage. I have lost my one chance to rescue them without force, and have given up that which would aid me in my darkest moment.

    I am adrift in the sea of torment, knowing that families suffer, but unable to do one damn thing about it.

    I beseech thee, fair mistress, to save the captive souls. Spite me if you must…surely I deserve it for failing you thus far, but use me first. I am the righteous fist, seething with rage and fury. I fear to lose myself to it lest I loose that fury upon the one who has called it up, the one who has captured these women, broken these families, and threatened the lives of these realmfolk._

    The tear-stained, somewhat unneatly smeared scrap of vellum is burned in the brazier, along with a rose offering


  • Rico brushes the coat on his loyal celestial steed, the mare Scarlet, while she eats a bag of fresh oats.

    I know you'd have given yourself up to save them. You're a loyal and kind creature, just like your master. But the knights armor, the gloves, and the shield are just things. Even the shield. Your life, and the lives of those we seek to save, is worth a thousand holy artifacts.

    I just pray I'm doing the right thing.

    Later, he sits down to write a letter

    _Mistress, I had hoped to write you a more pleasing tale of my heroism. Instead I find myself imploring your esteemable grace for guidance and aid in this dark hour.

    A mad wizard, Izakiel, has tasked me with solving a murder. To ensure that I do, he's taken fifty married maids and promises to kill them if I should fail. I cannot allow that to pass.

    Unfortunately, to discover what I could about this murdered Baltassa, I have been forced to surrender my armor, my gloves, and my shield. Yes, the shield which you yourself left me after the dreamquest. The shield that I value more than my own life, as it represents to me all the love and beauty you have seen fit to deliver to me.

    I pray you understand my reasons, and I pray to you for further guidance. Every answer I have leaves only more questions. This Baltassa was half the key to the pocket domain inside the Well of Souls in which Izakiel resides. The other half is the name of the guardian, the small lady. Whoever killed Baltassa surely did so to gain access, and has or believes they can gain the other half. I just have to discover who.

    But what then? Perhaps it a was a noble soul, even a knight like myself, who did the deed, planning to slay the mad wizard and rescue the land from his terrorism. If so, can I give him up so freely even to save fifty innocents? What if I can't find him? I'll have broken my word, and Izakiel will likely keep his word and slay the women. And if I can…what if Izakiel breaks his word and does not free them? I do not even know that I have the power to stop him, even at the cost of my own life. These are the questions that haunt me.

    I've endeavored only to do good and bring beauty to the world, but I fear that I'm failing you and failing these women. And it tears at my heart._

    Rico burns the note in oil