# Chapter 10: Two Hedge Knights
The courtyard of Gundelfingen Keep was quiet in the late morning light. Most of the Sword Cavalry were at drill or resting; only a few men moved between the barracks and stables. Sir Abbot of Bohemia and Sir Gobson of Franconia stood near the well, armor half-polished, cloaks thrown over their shoulders against the autumn chill. Abbot leaned against the stone rim, idly turning a small iron cross locket between his fingers. Gobson sharpened a dagger with slow, deliberate strokes.
Abbot spoke first, voice low.
Abbot:
You ever wonder how we ended up here, Gobson? Two hedge knights swearing to a Bavarian lord we barely knew.
Gobson grunted without looking up.
Gobson:
Every hedge knight has a story. Mine’s simple. I was just a farmer’s kid—hands in the dirt, back bent from dawn to dusk. Sir Arond found me bleeding in a ditch after a bad skirmish near my village. Patched me up, gave me a sword, took me on as his squire. Said I had the heart of a lion and the brain of a sheep. Served him for years. He knighted me one night outside a pub—half-drunk, laughing, said I’d earned it the hard way. Been loyal to good lords ever since.
Abbot gave a small laugh.
Abbot:
Mine’s longer. And uglier.
Gobson paused his sharpening.
Gobson:
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Go on then.
Abbot stared into the well water, seeing something far away.
Abbot:
I was born in Little ?umava. You know the place?
Gobson:
Aye. Outlaw country. Thieves, murderers, men too broken for honest work. They say even the wolves there have warrants on their heads.
Abbot:
That’s the one. I was fourteen. Hungry. Stupid. Saw a fat merchant named Bernd with a fine wine bottle on his belt. Thought I could lift it and run. Got caught. Bernd laughed—said his men would gouge out my eyes and cut off my hand. Said I’d beg for death before they were done.
Gobson’s knife stopped moving.
Gobson:
And?
Abbot:
I ran. Legs burning, heart in my throat. Stumbled into a clearing. Hit a horse—hard. Fell back. Looked up and saw full plate armor. A knight. From the Duchy of Bohemia. His men were already charging. They cut down Bernd’s outlaws like wheat. Bernd went to his knees, begging. The knight didn’t even blink—just ordered him bound.
Gobson:
He let you go?
Abbot:
At first. I was shaking, crying like a child. Then I knelt in the mud and begged him to take me as his squire. Said I’d serve him forever if he spared me from the noose. He looked at me a long time. Said no. Then he looked again… and said yes.
Gobson gave a low whistle.
Gobson:
Lucky day.
Abbot:
Lucky life. He taught me everything—sword, lance, honor. I served him until he died in a skirmish. After that… I drifted. Hedge knight. Until you and I ended up here.
Gobson nodded slowly.
Gobson:
Every hedge knight has a story. Most end in a ditch. Ours hasn’t yet.
Abbot smiled faintly, fingers closing around the cross locket.
Abbot:
Not yet.
Footsteps approached. Sir Herold Tarly Glint walked into the courtyard—green surcoat spotless, Clarus at his hip, face set in quiet determination. He stopped before them.
Sir Herold:
Abbot. Gobson. We ride at noon.
Gobson stood straight.
Gobson:
Where to, my lord?
Sir Herold:
Erfurt. We need evidence—or tracks. Mercenaries attacked the Duke near there. Someone paid them. We find out who.
Abbot’s hand tightened on the locket. He murmured a quick prayer under his breath—Latin words, soft and steady—then looked up.
Abbot:
We’re ready, my lord.
Sir Herold:
Forty men. My best. Pack light. We move fast.
He turned and walked away. Abbot and Gobson exchanged a glance.
Gobson:
Erfurt. Close to Thuringia. Close to trouble.
Abbot tucked the locket beneath his tunic.
Abbot:
Trouble’s where we live, Gobson. Let’s go meet it.
By noon the courtyard was alive. Forty riders assembled—green cloaks, lances high, horses stamping. Roland barked final orders; Damian adjusted his saddle. Herold mounted Ironfoot at the head.
Sir Herold:
(voice carrying)
We ride for Erfurt. Eyes open. Swords ready. We bring back answers—or blood.
The gates opened. Forty riders thundered out—toward the river roads, toward the unknown.
Behind them, Gundelfingen stood silent.
The Empire waited.
:To be Continued
