In a particularly rainy & boggy part of Evermore, there existed an old castle. Its name was Creeping Green; named so for the ivy & vines that crawled up the mossy stones of the fortress. It lay half-sunken in the swamp: its cellars and dungeons flooded and its wooden ramparts damp & rotten.
The castle was nestled beside the Pale Mountains which, like a pair of arms, cradled the falling rains and gently poured them down into the flat valley below. The waters were then lapped up by the thirsty roots of Black Thorn Forest to the east. In time, Creeping Green would itself be devoured by the tangled roots & branches of the forest…that is if it wasn’t consumed by the sinking mud first!
The castle was built to safeguard the Ancient Wilds from evildoers. It stood strong like a mountain of white stone & gray battlements. But that was a long long time ago. Since then, it has taken on a new appearance. Its windows, like eyes weeping tears of green, would gaze out across the bog and its gates of splintered wood, like crooked teeth, were open as if sighing from old age.
The caretaker and master of this creature of stone was an aged knight named Braun. In his youth, Master Braun was a valiant hero of the Ancient Wilds. Donned in green and carrying a mighty shield of elder-wood, he would slay the beasts that haunt the dark parts of the forest. But, after sustaining a poisonous wound to his left thigh, his days of gallantry had come to an end.
From then on, his daily quest was to protect the castle of Creeping Green from any intruder, whether it be human…or otherwise. He’d perch himself by the rusted portcullis and watch for any sign of visitors. It was easy to see those approaching the castle, for the land leading up to it was flat and marshy; riddled with reeds and darting mosquitos. Every day, Braun would sit on his three-legged stool with cane in hand…and wait. What he was waiting for exactly, he did not know.
Children of all sorts would come to Creeping Green. Some were brought by parents who could not afford to raise them anymore. Theirs was always a bitter parting. Others would arrive by themselves: bruised, beaten, or covered in filth. Theirs was a bitter arrival. And there were those who came not by their own accord. Wrapped in soiled garments, these infants were placed by the gate in the dead of night. Their wails would arouse Master Braun and the others to the portcullis. Thus, Creeping Green, in time, became an odd sort of orphanage.
These orphans would help Master Braun in his quest: sweeping halls, fetching fresh water, hunting frogs & other sorts of meager adventures that one could have in those parts of the realm. But every night -seated on his stool and resting by the orange glow of the fireplace- Master Braun would recount stories of his youth to the children of Creeping Green.
Many children would only feign attention to these tales as they ate their frog stew. But one child would sit with eyes wide as if he could see the stories unfolding before them. To him, Braun’s words would weave such a colorful tapestry of bravery & knightliness. The lad’s name was Milo.
Milo was sweet at heart, but unbecoming to the eyes. His body was long and narrow. His ruddy brown hair was cut using a bowl. His expression always told a story of sorrow and his chin was thin like an arrow’s point. And despite being seventeen years of age, his gaunt cheeks did not bear any barbs of manhood.
His appearance was the inspiration for much mockery. “Frog-Boy”, the other children would call him…or “Scarecrow”. Hugo, the largest lad of the castle, would take much pleasure in crafting new insults for Milo. He’d even whisper that Milo’s hideousness drove his own parents to abandon him at Creeping Green. Any time Milo would hear such things he’d try to defend himself, but alas, when angered, his voice had difficulty forming words. He’d then be called the “Sputtering Spider”.
But he was a noble young man. Every evening, Milo would sit with his frog-like legs crossed, ready to partake in the meal of Master Braun’s stories. Truth be told, Braun would recount these stories to Milo alone: his most loyal of listeners. He would tell Milo of his adventures in the Black Slough -home to hellish harpies and bog mummies. Or perhaps he’d tell of his encounters with the wilderlings -feral children who painted their faces and fired poisonous darts from unseen blowguns. But Milo’s favorite tale was that of Sir Braun’s endeavor to slay the dreaded Widow of the Web -a creature that dwelled in the roots of a massive Elder Tree. It safeguarded a mysterious treasure unclaimed by any brave knight. Milo’s eyes would gleam at the thought of this treasure.
It was not long before Milo became Master Braun’s pupil of sorts. Once again, this caused much mockery amongst the children of the Green. “Master Braun’s skeleton dog”, they’d call him. But Milo paid them no attention.
He’d accompany Master Braun on treks outside the castle, spar with him in the courtyard or assist him in his writings. Literacy was not common at Creeping Green. As such, Braun relied on his disciple to transcribe his stories into the written word. Old age and venomous veins had made steady penmanship impossible.
In his spare time, Milo enjoyed lighting the nub of a candle stick and perusing the library of Creeping Green…if you can call it that. In actuality, it was a small cellar infested with spores and with sheets of paper stuffed into every shelf haphazardly. Milo would organize it and read its contents. Although, he hated clearing away the spider webs and their eight-legged occupants.
One manuscript caught his attention. It was adorned with images of gold, silver & royal blue. The illuminated text spoke of the King, Queen & Prince of Evermore. They were seated upon three thrones at the base of a beautiful tree of white bark. Its leaves shimmered like gold and fiery phoenixes nested in its silver branches. Below it, inked in gold, was written,
“Three crowns and three thrones for the three rulers of Evermore. May the light of the Evermore Tree always-“
Suddenly, the words stopped. The bottom third of the page was torn. Flustered, Milo shuffled through the piles of pages but could not find the missing piece.
He shambled down the damp halls of the castle until he found Master Braun at work in the Great Hall.
“Master!” called Milo, “If I may interrupt.” Braun turned to him.
“What is it, child? Are you done in the library already?”
“No Master, forgive me,” said Milo breathlessly, “I found this manuscript and must know how it ends.” He then handed the parchment to Braun. The old knight peered at it with squinted eyes and then was taken aback.
“Ah!” he said, “Fortunate of you to recover this! I had believed it to be lost completely!”
“So, you remember the missing words?”
“Indeed. Come, and I will tell you.” He shuffled over to the bench. Milo joined him. Braun groaned as he seated himself and then proceeded with his story.
“The King, Queen & Prince are the true rulers of Evermore; always have been and always will be.” Milo looked puzzled.
“If that be the case, why haven’t I heard of them? I thought the Lord protectors were the highest authority in Evermore.”
“Not many even believe in the King, Queen or Prince…save for the Conservators,” said Braun, “For they reside at Castle Paramount at the center of Evermore, behind a ring of perilous mountains shrouded in mist. Most look upon these mountains and see only fog. But some have claimed to have seen a faint glimmer through the veil: gold during the day and silver during the night. This is the Evermore Tree. It grows at the summit of Castle Paramount,” Braun then motioned to the illumination on the sheet of parchment, “That is what is shown here.”
“Why are they so secretive?” asked Milo.
“They are not secretive,” began Braun, “Most choose not to see.”
“Not to see? How can that be?”
“In time in memoriam, all were ruled by the royal family. The Lord Protectors lived in the presence of these three and served them without question, for their judgment was just without error. But many were deceived and led astray.”
“By whom?” asked Milo. Braun glanced over his shoulder as if he were being watched and then whispered, “The Lord of Horns.”
“The Lord of Horns?” Braun raised his hand to soften the boy’s words.
“Yes child. The Lord of Horns was once a faithful servant of the royal family…the greatest minstrel that ever lived. His music was sweet & his words gentle. But in time he grew envious of what he could not have…which were the thrones and crowns of Evermore. And so, with his bitter tongue, he conjured a cloud of lies. The Lord Protectors of Evermore became lost and wandered from their appointed paths; drifting farther and farther away from the warm light of Castle Paramount.”
“And what happened next?” said Milo with unblinking eyes. Master Braun paused for a bit and then arose from his seat.
“Come. Follow me”. He led Milo up the narrow staircases of the castle until they entered onto the highest battlement of Creeping Green. Here the air was fresh and the stuffy dampness of the inner chambers was chased away by the wind. Milo peered out across the swamps. It was a typically dreary day: the land was blanketed by a gray sky. A chill pierced Milo’s skin and faint droplets could be felt falling upon his pale face.
Braun then pointed across the landscape with his staff. “The Lord of Horns created a terrible dragon, which vomited forth a foul mist upon the island of Evermore.” As if pre-arranged, the horizon beyond Creeping Green was enshrouded by a wall of fog. “The Dragon’s Breath, as we call it now, began to change the island…perverting it…twisting it. Beasts that were once docile became ravenous, animals sought the taste of blood rather than leaf & even the earth itself turned against its inhabitants.”
As Braun spoke, Milo -as if in a strange trance- could almost see these things happening before his eyes. In the fog, he saw faint silhouettes rising up with long claws, sharp talons & gritted fangs. Then he heard a distant bellowing through the mist. The world itself seemed to be groaning in agony. A cold fell upon Milo…and he was afraid.
“Many of the wretched things that haunt the nights are a consequence of the Dragon’s Breath.” continued Braun, “Goblins, ghouls, giants, ogres, trolls, werewolves, vampires & harpies…they were all born from that terrible breath.” Milo shivered. Master Braun took notice of this and put his hand upon the lad’s shoulder.
“Are you afraid?” Milo nodded. Braun smiled a bit. “That’s alright…so was I at your age.” Milo looked at Braun.
“How was it that you were so brave as a knight of the realm?” Braun chuckled a bit and then began to shuffle towards the lip of the battlements. “As I said, most choose not to see the warm light of the Evermore Tree.” He then pointed to some distant mountain tops peeking above the gnarled canopy of Briar Branch Forest. “Can you see the light from here, child?”
Milo crept closer and placed his hands upon the cold stones. He squinted and leaned forward, almost tipping over the edge. All he could see were clouds of gray.
“I’m not sure.” squeaked Milo.
“Do not fret. It took me ages to see the light.” said Braun, “In time, I hope for you to see it too.”
“And when you did, the light made you brave?” asked Milo. Braun laughed.
“That, I’m afraid, is a story for another time.” With that, he hobbled to the door and motioned for his young pupil to follow suite. But before he entered through the dark doorway, Milo turned towards the distant mountains one last time. For a fleeting moment, Milo thought he saw a flicker of gold through the misty veil. His heart jumped in his chest but as soon as he saw it, the light had vanished.
All the while, Milo had the piece of parchment in his hands. He looked upon the shimmering images of gold, silver & blue. He carefully rolled it up and placed it in his pocket. Milo then drew his hood and descended back into the stuffy embrace of Creeping Green.
That night, a pale moon rose above the castle. Its sickly beams of light were cast upon Master Braun’ face. He arose and peered at it through his narrow window. Then he groaned. A bad omen if he ever saw one. But he cast the thought from his mind and returned to bed. Little did he know that misfortune would befall him & his children before the moon rose again.
The next day was like any other. Tasks were assigned to the children. The elders were sent out beyond the castle to collect dry wood. Master Braun would accompany them for protection -sword at his hip. The younglings, under the supervision of Milo, would perform an assortment of odd jobs around the castle premises: sweeping up cobwebs, skinning potatoes & manning the battlements as sentries. Some were sent to fetch water from the well.
The well was in the center of the courtyard. It, like everything else at Creeping Green, was covered in moss. Three small children, a boy and two girls, waddled over to the well, which to them seemed like a towering spire of stone. They scrambled up to the wooden step and began to lower the bucket down. It disappeared into the blackness.
They heard a splash…as expected. The three pulled the rope together to bring the bucket back up. However, it felt heavier than normal. Also, they heard an unfamiliar sound coming from within the well. It sounded like a deep raspy hiss.
“What’s that?” asked one of the girls.
“It sounds like a monster!” squealed the other.
“Bah!” said the boy, “It’s only wind echoing from the well.” But even he did not fully believe his words. Alas. It did not matter. Just another few pulls and the bucket would be in sight.
It emerged from the lip of the well…carrying with it more than water. Wrapped around the bucket & narrow rope was a twisting creature of scales. Black was its color, with yellow eyes and a white tongue that slithered in and out of its toothy mouth. A basilisk!
The children shrieked in terror and quickly released the rope. The bucket plunged back into the well, but the basilisk threw itself out and starting squirming about on the courtyard ground. No matter where the children ran, the creature seemed to whip itself towards them.
Enraged, the basilisk began belching black fumes from its jaws. The children breathed it in and began to grow faint. The two girls collapsed while the boy tried to crawl away. The monster entwined itself around the body of the boy, all the while coughing small puffs of poisoned gas.
Milo heard the commotion and sprinted to the scene. From the second floor colonnade he could see the basilisk’s writhing body. With broomstick in hand, he raced down the stairs and confronted the monster. The basilisk set its yellow eyes upon him as Milo raised his weapon. The beast opened its jaws and hissed; black sludge oozed out and pooled on the ground.
“Summon Master Braun!” cried Milo, “Summon him now!” The boy on the high battlements heard the command and quickly drew forth his horn. He blew it and the sound echoed across the marshland. Milo prayed it wasn’t too late.
He continued to duel with the basilisk; gouging at the creature’s eyes and nose. The monster sprung its head at Milo, like a springed-trap, but all its attacks failed. The poor boy in the basilisk’s grasp turned purple, his eyes bulging red from his plump face. There wasn’t much time left. Milo’s only chance was to ram the end of the broomstick down the fiend’s throat.
He let forth a battle cry and stabbed his broom forward. The basilisk immediately coiled its long neck around the shaft of the broom, trapping Milo’s hands. They went numb as he struggled to free himself. But it was no use. With dripping fangs of venom, the basilisk prepared to sink them deep into Milo’s exposed neck.
Suddenly, there was a streak of iron through the air. Master Braun had returned! He severed the basilisk’s head from its body. Milo fell backwards, the head of the monster still tethered to his broom. The rest of the basilisk’s body continued to squirm for a bit before Braun drove the tip of his sword into the heart, ceasing its struggle. The young boy, now unconscious, was freed and immediately scooped up by the larger lads of the castle.
The three children were rushed to the infirmary. Their skin had turned white and their veins black with venom. Braun hovered over them with anxious eyes. He felt their skinny arms. They were as cold as frost.
“A basilisk…in my own well!” he growled to himself, “How could I not have known?”
“What happened to them?” asked Milo, holding a candle in his shaking hand.
“The breath of a basilisk is poisonous, as is its bite. You were lucky to have survived that struggle.”
“But, what of the children?” asked Milo. Master Braun said nothing. “Sir?” Then he spoke.
“The venom is spreading…I…I fear their time is limited.” Milo’s eyes welled up with tears.
“How long, Master?”
“Two weeks…maybe less.” Milo slowly placed the candle down on the wooden table and seated himself on a bench. These children were so young. It wasn’t fair!
“There must be something we can do!” said Milo. Braun drew the blankets over the children, who shivered violently. He then sat on his three-legged stool with cane in hand. For a time, there was only silence in that dark chamber. Milo’s candlestick burned itself down to a small nub before Master Braun spoke again.
“I need time to think,” he said as he rose from his seat and headed for the doorway, “There may be something we can do…but I am not sure it is wise.”
“What is it?” asked Milo eagerly.
“I need time.” repeated Braun. Milo respected his Master’s wishes and remained quiet. “In the meantime,” began Braun, “seal off the well. No doubt its waters are poisoned. We will use the spare well in the garden.”
“Yes, Sir” whispered Milo. Braun left the room but Milo remained. He sat beside the children until his candle snuffed itself out, filling the room with blackness.
Milo stayed at the bedside all through the night. He laid his weary head against the legs of the children and fell asleep. His dreams were plagued by images of black silhouettes, dripping fangs, yellow eyes and the pale faces of the children.
Like corpses they looked, their bodies ensnared by tangles of black scales. Their eyes bulged and their veins swelled with venom. They were crying out to him, saying “Save us Milo…save us!” Milo tried to cry back, but no words came to his lips.
He then saw the basilisk grow larger and larger. It became like a dragon, belching black smoke that surrounded Milo, filling his lungs and burning his skin. Out of the smoke emerged the Lord of Horns. His eyes were as black as death, swallowing Milo whole. The young man fell deeper and deeper into the blackness…until…
“Milo”
The boy jerked his head upwards, startling Master Braun who had his hand upon his shoulder. Sweat was trickling down his brow as Milo realized that he was back in the infirmary. He looked down at the children. Their eyes were closed tight and they continued to shiver. They were safe…for now.
“Forgive me,” said Braun, “I did not mean to frighten you.” Milo straightened his clothing and arose.
“What is it, Master? Is it morning yet?”
“No. Not morning. Not yet. Come. There is something I must tell you…something I must ask of you.” Braun’s face looked weighed down by sadness. Milo was confused by this, but heeded his Master’s command and quickly followed after him down the cold corridor. He expected to follow Braun into the great hall, but instead was taken deep into the cellar of the castle.
The cellar was half-flooded. Every nook & cranny was draped with cobwebs. To the left of the entrance were high narrow windows with iron bars. The sky outside was a soft violet; heralding the coming of dawn. In the far corner were casks & barrels set upon shelves above the black puddles. Mushrooms sprouted from between the struts in the barrels.
Braun marched through the shallow pools and began rummaging through the shelves. He pulled forth a large chest and brought it over to where Milo stood patiently. The wood of the chest was a bit rotten and warped from years of exposure to moisture. Braun pulled forth a necklace from his tunic which carried a small key. He unlocked the chest and pulled back the lid. It groaned and cracked as if speaking.
Milo peered into the chest and gasped. Inside was an old suit of armor. There was a shirt of mail, as well as leggings, gloves & a coif of mail. Alongside them was a helmet. It had seen better days, for it was a dull gray color and a bit rusted here and there.
Folded neatly atop the mail was a tunic of sage green. Emblazoned on the front was a black griffin, rearing up with talons drawn. Milo recognized this design. It was the old armor of Master Braun when he was a knight of the realm.
“My child,” began Braun with a soft voice, “there is something I must ask of you, though I do not wish it.” Milo waited as Braun struggled to find his next words. “I am sorry…that you should carry this terrible burden. Yet, there is no one at this castle that is more worthy of my trust.”
“What are you asking of me, Sir?” said Milo. Braun began pacing back and forth.
“In my youth I sought adventure. This much you know. Years ago, my adventures took me north…to the roots of a withered elder tree-“
“Where dwelled the Widow of the Web“ finished Milo. Braun nodded.
“Yes. I had gone there for vain glory, for the Widow protects a treasure unlike any other in Evermore. And for my vanity, I nearly lost my life.” With that, Braun sat upon his stool and pulled back the left sleeve of his trousers to reveal a gaping wound in his thigh. It was a sickly green color, the flesh around it was yellowed and all the veins were green as well. “I failed to recover the treasure, yet there it remains, guarded by the great Widow.” He then pulled his trouser leg back down.
“This treasure is an elixir; concocted by the Widow herself” said Braun, “It has the power to grant any desire, whether that be unparalleled strength, wisdom or the ability to heal any wound or affliction.” Milo perked up after hearing this.
“Heal any affliction?” he asked. Braun nodded once more.
“Indeed”
“So, this elixir can heal the children?”
“I believe so. It is our only chance” Braun then placed his hands upon the lid of the chest once more and sighed, “I sought this elixir for glory & fame. And for my sins, I was punished. But if one were to seek it for the sake of others, then perhaps the King, Queen & Prince will smile upon that hero.”
“I’ll do it, Sir” said Milo confidently. Braun looked surprised…yet not surprised.
“My son, it would be a perilous journey; through the Ancient Wilds to the bitter north…to the heart of the Widow’s Web.” Milo threw back his shoulders and lifted his chin.
“I’ll do it.”
“Very well,” said Braun with a slight smile, “So be it. But you cannot embark on a quest dressed like that.” He then patted his hand on the shirt of mail within the chest. “Put these on.”
Milo rushed forward and began drawing the pieces of armor forth. He struggled to hoist up the heavy shirt of mail with its long sleeves. It slid over his gangly body and draped heavily around him. He then fastened the chainmail leggings to his trousers and threw the green mantle over himself. A few minutes had passed and Milo tightened the cracked leather belt around his thin waist.
The young man was filled with a spirit of excitement. For ages he had dreamed of living out the adventures and stories of Master Braun’s youth. Now he would forge his own adventure into the unknown. Yet, at the same time, he was filled with dread.
Then, Master Braun emerged from around the corner carrying two items in his hands: a dented shield in his left and a sword & scabbard in his right. Milo was once again filled with awe. Braun fastened the scabbard to Milo’s belt. He then handed the shield to Milo who secured it to his left arm. He recognized the design on the front: a white tree against a darkened green field.
“These tools served me well on my many adventures,” said Braun, “I pray they shall serve you well also.” Milo placed his gloved hand on the hilt at his side and drew forth the sword. It did not come out without a bit of a struggle, for the blade was dented and bent from years of use. Still, Milo admired the blade in his grasp. It was forged from darkened steel; covered in nicks and scrapes.
“Do you remember the sword’s name?” asked Master Braun.
“Thorn” said Milo. Braun smiled.
“Aye. It is. Be mindful of its edge. That blade was forged using poison from Black Thorn Forest. A single cut can slay a giant” Milo nodded and gently lowered the sword’s point to the ground. Master Braun shuffled over to the shield secured to Milo’s arm. He smirked and rubbed his thumb against its dusty surface.
“Of all the arms and armaments I carried…this one was my favorite.” The young lad lifted the shield up so he could gaze upon the white emblem. It had been through trials and tribulations, yet the shimmering tree could still be seen beneath it all.
“The Evermore Tree” squeaked Milo.
“Very good,” said Braun, “What better device for an emblem is there than the Evermore Tree itself?” Master Braun then pointed his cane at Milo. “Do you still have the illumination from the library?” Milo quickly retrieved the rolled up bit of parchment and handed it off to Braun. Braun unfurled it. The morning sun had finally awoken. It cast its first rays in through the cellar windows, hitting the parchment and causing the picture to shine gold, silver and blue.
“Ah yes!” said Braun in a raspy whisper, “I remember the old code now.” He furled the parchment and extended his palm. “Give me your sword.” Milo carefully handed off Thorn to Braun who took it without hesitation. He then commanded Milo to kneel. The boy fell to one knee which quickly became damp from the cellar floor. Yet he did not care, for he knelt in a pillar of warm sunlight.
Braun took the crooked blade of Thorn and held it above Milo’s head. This was it. The knighting ceremony. Tears were welling up in the young man’s eyes. Still, he refused to blink. Not now. Not here. As long as he kept his eyes open, the dream he had dreamed many nights would live on in his waking life. Master Braun then spoke the revered words of the ancient code, saying-
“Do you, Milo of Creeping Green, swear to live by the Old Code?”
“I swear”
“Do you swear to seek Justice: to make yourself a shield between the innocent & the wicked?”
“I swear”
“Do you swear to always be Prudent: to sharpen your mind like a sword of steel?”
“I swear”
“Do you swear to exercise Temperance: to aim true like the drawn bow of an archer?”
“I swear”
“Do you swear to have Fortitude: to be a castle of stone against the beating waves of the world?”
“I swear”
“Lastly, do you swear to uphold the Truth: to rest it upon your brow like a crown of gold?”
“I swear!” finished Milo, without a hint of hesitation. Master Braun then hoisted the sword up and over, hovering it above Milo’s right shoulder.
“So be it. In the authority vested in me by the Royal Family, I hereby dub thee, Sir Milo the Meek of Creeping Green.” The tip of Thorn tapped both of Milo’s shoulders, filling the young knight with a sense of overwhelming pride. “Arise my child, a knight of the Ancient Wilds”.
Milo slowly lifted himself from the cold floor. The pillar of morning light now engulfed his entire body, warming him from head to toe. The young man had never felt taller nor stronger in his entire life. He felt that he could slay a mountain, if possible, and run a thousand miles without growing faint.
“Promise me, son,” began Braun, “that you will always reject evil and cling to what is good.”
“I promise, Master.” said Milo confidently. Braun smiled from ear to ear.
“I had a feeling you would say that!” Milo smiled back. Braun returned the coiled parchment to Milo, who reached for it with his gloved hand. “That page brought back old memories,” said Braun, “The Old Code, the Knighting Ceremony, all of it. I even remember the second half of that line you showed me.” Milo’s eyes widened.
“Really?”
“Indeed. It goes, ‘Three crowns & three thrones for the three rulers of Evermore. May the light of the Evermore Tree always shine upon those who seek to do what’s right’”
There was a pause for a moment. It was interrupted by the chirping of a crane outside. By now, the sky through the barred cellar window had turned light blue. Golden rays now poured onto the damp floor. It shone upon Milo’s armor, which now seemed to glitter in the sunlight.
“The morning has come,” said Braun, “It is the start of a new day…and the start of your quest.” Milo looked back at his master with a steely expression. He nodded his narrow chin and sheathed Thorn into the scabbard.
The children of Creeping Green gathered together to see Sir Milo off in the courtyard. Many gawked at his new suit of armor. Others snickered to themselves. Milo paid them no heed. His mind was focused on the mission at hand.
A steed was given to him for his quest. Cricket was its name; an old boney horse that cared not for riders upon its back. At any chance, Cricket would try to buck unwitting riders from their saddles. But, it was the only horse that could be spared during these troubling times. Milo did not mind this either.
After saddling Cricket, Milo was hoisted up by Hugo, his adversary. Hugo could not look Sir Milo in the eye as he secured the young knight’s boot into the stirrup. With a scoff, he left to join the others. At once, Cricket fidgeted and swayed side to side. Milo tugged the reins and gave a confident “Steady now!” and the horse returned to its place on the lawn.
Master Braun handed Milo his dented green shield. The young knight took it and strapped it to his back. He was then handed his rusted helm and fastened the strap around his thin neck. All was ready.
As the portcullis was opened, Sir Milo closed the visor of his helmet. Through the narrow opening, Milo could see the vast wilderness beyond. He turned and looked upon the children of Creeping Green one last time before brining his spur to Cricket’s side, causing the horse to jolt forward abruptly. Milo nearly slid out of his seat, but managed to pull himself back into position. By then, he had nearly traversed the causeway leading from the gate of the castle.
Some children atop the battlements sounded their horns as a sign of parting and fair wishes. All the while, Master Braun stood at the mouth of the fortress, with cane in hand and seated upon his stool. He then realized what it was that he had been waiting for for so many years.
Thus began the first adventure of Sir Milo the Meek, Knight of the Ancient Wilds.
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