The Robber Knight's Protege

35 - The Legendary Sir Ronan

Memories lurked around every corner in Palermo. Some memories, particularly those that involved scantily clad—or naked—women brought a smile to Rueben's face. Others, however, did funny things to his stomach.

He kept a firm grip on his daughters' hands as he walked from the inn to the tournament grounds. People swirled about everywhere. Buskers and bards competed for attention. Hawkers hawked their wares. Whores whored. The moist scent of the sea mingled with the lovely fragrances of garbage and body odor.

Passersby threw wide-eyed glances at Reuben, and it brought him a small measure of satisfaction. Even in the great city of Palermo, a six-foot-seven man in red armor demanded attention. By the time the tournament was over, he would demand much more than that. Respect. Adoration. A healthy prize purse. Etc...

He hoped.

He stopped walking as the word "Luntberg" reached his ears from somewhere to his right. Straining to hear through the hubbub around him, he pulled Arabella and Kaylin closer.

"... hung in the balance," the bard said with a sweeping gesture. "The evil robber knight had locked Lady Ayla away in a tower so she was unable to command her troops during this pivotal battle. The Margrave von Falkenstein advanced, eager to save the beautiful young maiden and her people from the ravages of a demon-possessed monster. Thunder roared in the distance. A bolt of lightning—surely a sign from God himself—rent the sky. The robber knight leapt from the keep's inner wall, and when he hit the ground in front of the Margrave, heaven itself shuddered. Man and monster came toward each other, one on a quest for blood, and one on a quest for righteousness. They—"

"That's not how it happened!" a high-pitched voice cut through the small crowd of listeners. Kaylin.

The bard didn't seem to have heard her. He continued on, "It seemed as if God had chosen the Margrave to win. He advanced on the robber knight, but evil is powerful, my friends, very powerful. The battled raged on, and—"

"Excuse me!" Kaylin, who had worked her way through the throng of listeners, tugged on the bard's tunic.

"Be gone with you, you little—"

"Don't you tell me to be gone!" Kaylin yelled. "You're lying about my daddy!"

"I beg your pardon?" The bard blinked down at her. "I believe you're confused, child. Run along to your mother."

"My mother is in Luntberg. She's Lady Ayla. A very long time ago, she was in big trouble because of the Margrave, who had a very ugly nose, by the way. But then my daddy robbed her. And then they fell in love, and my daddy saved Luntberg from the evil Margrave. My daddy called him a sadistic and lecherous son of a—"

"Kaylin!" Arabella snapped, her face red. "That's enough."

No, Reuben didn't think it was enough. Kaylin was doing very well.

Kaylin pouted, and her blue eyes met Reuben's. "Tell them, daddy."

A dozen pairs of eyes turned to Reuben, and every single one of them grew a little wider. Reuben dipped into a mock bow. "At your service."

The bard did not seem impressed. "Sir knight, will you please tell your daughters to control themselves?

"Hmm. Quite right. Arabella, shut up. Let Kaylin talk."

As if she had just been appointed queen of the world, Kaylin puffed out her chest and made herself as tall as possible—which wasn't very tall, but Reuben approved of the effort. "My father, Sir Reuben Rachwild von Riffgarten, defeated the Margrave von Falkenstein in glorious battle. He saved my mother's life and the lives of all the peasants in the fiefdom. Well, most of the peasants. A few got their heads cut off, but that's just what happens during war."