The Tale of the Everlasting Knights

This story is set in Medieval times, or the dark ages. It mainly consists of the Italian nature. If you happen to be familiar with the Italian culture of this time era, feel free to add on. There will be plenty of action, magic, dragons, worlocks, witches, trolls, elves, griffins, and probably a whole bunch of other creatures my mind can come up with.

   The smell of salt was distinct in the air as I walked along the open coast. The soothing sound of the waves crashing onto the rocks below were comforting to me in the otherwise silent surroundings. The sky was growing darker as twilight settled in, the sun sinking beneath the rolling water, illuminating the ocean bright red in color.

   The night was serene, bringing welcome peace to my muddled mind. Until I heard the noisy trot of an unwelcome guest upon horseback, that is.

   With anticipation burning like a dying yellow flame within myself, I turned around, awaiting the dreaded disturber of ultimate peace. Before long, Warren trotted up beside me, slowing his brown beauty to a halt.

   "My Lady," he bowed politely. "You should retire to the castle; it is late, and many dangers may lurk about tonight."

   "Yes, yes; you are quite right," I replied respectfully. In truth, though, I did not want to return just yet, nor at any other moment in time.

   Warren helped me mount the tall ginger stallion; then he, too, mounted behind me, and soon, we were riding back to the great castle of Clayton Valley, named after a great king who ruled many, many years ago.

   Clayton Valley, as the name suggests, lies at the heart of a valley surrounded by great snow-capped mountains. A river, the main source of water, runs through the lower villages of the kingdom, and even through the great kingdom itself.

   The castle I call home lies on the eastern edge of the kingdom. with ancient stone walls and archways, the place is very secure. In the moonlight, the walls glow silver, and if you are in the right spot at midnight, it illuminates the entire western wing with a lustrous pale light. It is beautiful in every aspect, and there is never even the smallest speck of dust in the corners.

   My brother is the leading knight and the heir to the kingdom, the next king. This could very well mean only one thing: I am the daughter of the king, the princess of Clayton Valley.

   My father is, on good days, a very amiable man, and easy to please. However, when neighboring kingdoms wish to be troublesome, or threaten the good people of Clayton Valley, he is quick to act and assume-- this can be dangerous in certain situations. My father's only major flaw is that things must go his way or no way. And once his mind is set, there's no changing it.

    Upon arriving at the gates to the kingdom, Warren assisted me in dismounting the stallion. The knight on duty bowed respectfully to me, also signaling for the other guards to lift the iron gates. I dipped my head, acknowledging him and moved on.

   The few late-nighters rushing to finish the day's worked stopped what they were doing to gawk at me, a few getting on their hands and knees- their noses kissing the cobble-stone street.

   Personally, I positively hated it when the common folk did this. But holding the image of a respectable princess, I forced myself to smile my tight, thin-lined smile and nod at them. These people believe it is a great honor to be acknowledged by a Noble, or even better, a Royal.

   Before long, I found myself entering my elaborate room decked out in elegant greens, gold, and ivory. On the south wall of my quarters, a four-post iron bed with ivory and gold sheets, and a green canopy, rested against the gray walls. To the west, there was a large stained-glass window. The window looked out upon the main square-- that is where peasants, Nobleman, Merchants, and even the Royal family would attend a church service.

   Because it was now dusk, there was no light to penetrate my large window and illuminate the large room. I struck a match that rested on my bedside table and lit an ivory candle. I would not wake my maid this late in the evening to have her help me into my silk nightgown, so I did this myself. 

   The nightgown was ivory, with gold embroidering. Ivory, green, and gold were my favorite colors; they also happened to be the crest of our royal family. An emerald green dragon fighting a golden griffin with ivory talons is what the crest looks like.

   When I was finally prepared to retire for the night and sleep, I blew out the sweet smelling candle. Sleep arrested me and dragged me to it's deep, dark depths before long.

The End

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