Author Games: A Knight's Valor

Group Three: Vere Lennox, Mavary Valls, Eleos Eiríni

Mavary never hated fabric. The patterns and softness never struck an incorrect cord in his mind and heart, but when the fold was placed over his eyes, stealing away the irises of beauty and silencing what Mavary loved the most- sight - he grumbled. The task at hand was tedious- in all honesty, the man was disgruntled and annoyed by the "challenge" of knighthood. It didn't seem to shine with honor, but for some forsaken reason, his eyes were stolen by the royal family.

Eleos and Vere were nearby, though he didn't know where. The darkness appeared to have blemished his memory, so he forgot what laid around him. Hushed sounds flurried past his concealed ears as he went over the plan multiple times; when told to complete something, Mavary became neurotic.

Beside him came a cough. One that, quite obviously, wasn't involuntary. Odds were that there was never an itch rising up his throat, and the knight, Eleos, merely did it to catch the attention of the temporarily blinded man beside him. The cough had no dialect and the sound only made Mavary mutter a quick assurance that Eleos was okay- which he was, but EE did have to roll his eyes, annoyed by Mavary's supposedly low intelligence.

Idiot.

Of course, EE was grand friends with the blindfolded man; it was that budding relationship that turned those hostile thoughts into meaningless jokes. Eleos was allowed to poke fun at Mavary because the pair were deliberately becoming a dynamic duo...plus Vere, apparently,

The mountain was homely, as if it assumed the figure of a inactive boy. It hid the sky and most other things, such as the floating of clouds and flapping of bird wings. And the peak of the landscape was dull in Vere's eyes, nerve-wracking because that's where he was required to sit.

Up above, through the juts of rock and hanging ledges, Eleos thought he saw the obscure figure of the knight-in-training they were to go through tremendous struggles to get to. When he saw the face of the man, he sighed, wondering why they were to "rescue" Vere Lennox out of all those others to choose from. He didn't have anything against the young man - it wasn't in his nature to do so - but there was a variety of knights to chose from. So why choose one that the Raleith boy had a connection to? He had no clue. Meanwhile, Mavary situated his palms on his hips, not yet beginning an ascent, waiting for the directions that would come pelting him from above and below.

"This is about trust," the King had said with an etched tone; almost distant. "A knight's trust is one of the virtues we value the most. It may be the most important one."

He didn't understand why such "trust" had to consist of rock-climbing, a blindfolded boy, and one tied up at the very top, teetering back and forth at the peak.

King Artheur spoke again, "The rules are simple. As you can see, or rather, as most of you can see, one of you is blindfolded. A second person on your team is to assist this person; and the third is to simply stay put.

"However," he continued, "one person - either the captured or the one to assist - has the role of the liar. My dear, blindfolded knights, it is up to you, and you only, to decide who to trust."

Vere, up on the distant hill, huffed. Why did he have to stay up there and do nothing? Internally, it was the contrary: he was the liar. Based on how uncomfortable the other man made him feel, Vere did not feel too guilty about deceiving Mavary- to his eyes, the Raleith man was merely a hinderance to his stay in the kingdom, the stay that could possibly earn him the title of a true knight. Already, Mavary had twisted up and tossed away his chances at making a good impression on the royals, and as Vere thought more and more on the matter in his head, the hint of guilt he knew he'd feel afterwards shrunk, until finally he'd given up all honesty in general. He nodded that head of his and down the candidness fell, tumbling down the cliffside.