The heat of the forge engulfed the small stone room, filling it with smoke and making the seven men inside sweat. One stepped forwards to the red glow of the fire itself and held forth a sword. The flickering light reflected off of the blade and hilt sending shimmering patterns across the walls, occasionally lighting up one of the figures. They were all wearing stained chain mail and carried ornate swords. Their faces seemed to be carved of stone and were pointed towards the forge.
"Arthur," one of the voices said in a deep voice, coming from near the small door. "It is nearly time."
The figure near the forge looked through a small window and saw the moon nearly at its peak. His arm jerked forwards and he placed the sword into the fire. Sparks shot upwards and there was a loud crackle.
"Horst," the man that placed the sword into fire croaked. "Create the knives. One for each man here." He then went outside after picking up a chisel and the swords scabbard.
***
"Ceryn! Where are you?" Ceryn's head jerked upwards at the sound of her father's voice. She quickly stood up and tried to brush the leaves and twigs from her long hair. As she did so her father rounded the corner into her favourite garden on their estate.
"Ceryn, how many times have I said not to do this. You're a young lady and should be indoors studying and learning to play music, not running around in the dirt in trousers. Anyway, it's breakfast time, let's go."
Ceryn scampered after her father brushing off the pants she had taken from the washing line. She hoped that there was going to be fresh butter this morning as they had run out earlier in the week. She realised that she had accidentally been ignoring her father and panicked.
"Please just try for me, Ceryn. Things have been difficult in this land for the last twenty years. I need for you to carry on this houses legacy. We once ruled this land then my father... well he got rid of the world's greatest weapon."
Ceryn tuned out again and started daydreaming as she normally did when her father talked about this. They were Pendragons and her grandfather had melted down his legendary sword, Excalibur. There had been no family records as to what had happened to the sword or its scabbard, just that Arthur had gone insane from the loss and nearly lead their house into ruin.
"Ceryn? Ceryn, are you even listening to me?"
Her eyes widened and she nodded her head quickly, with a few bits of leaves falling out. Her father laughed at her reaction and messed up her hair.
"You really need to learn to pay attention more. In court it will be boring but you are expected to know what is happening and to be able to make informed decisions."
Ceryn looked at the floor and then back up to her father with hopeful eyes.
"Yes, Ceryn, you will need to speak. You have a beautiful voice; it will be fine."
"I... I will try to, Father." Her voice was like silk and as delicate as a spider's web.
"See, that wasn't so difficult was it, Ceryn?" Her father had a smile plastered on his face and a sparkling light in his eyes.
"Do you think there will be fresh butter today?" She kept her eyes on the door a few paces in front of her as she talked.
"I think there will be, yes. We have a new cook trying out so tell me if you like it. And you get to use your favourite knife, too."
Ceryn's eyes lit up at this and she ran indoors and to the dining room. She saw the table set and in front of her seat a square of butter and her knife.
The knife was kept in a wooden holder and seemed to never need sharpening. She made a noise and slid into her seat, collecting a few pieces of bread as she did so.
As she started to butter the bread her father walked in panting slightly.
"It always amazes me how you can outrun anyone in this estate, even our best soldier." He went over to the side bar and poured himself some watered down wine. Ceryn stared at her bread blushing slightly. She knew she was fast but she didn't like people to tell her she was.
Her father walked to his seat and tore off a chunk from the loaf of bread. He used it as a carrier for bacon and eggs and ate in three large bites. Ceryn still stared at this despite it being part of the normal morning routine. She took a few small bites from her bread and couldn't help but staring at her knife.
It had been in the family since her grandfather's time but no one really knew where it had come from. Its blade looked like it had fire flickering throughout it and the cover was made of some weird wood. She took it back out and started to absently spin it around through her fingers.
"Wh... What are you doing, Ceryn?" Her father said around a mouthful of apple.
Her head shot up and she realised what she was doing. She quickly put the knife down and stared at her hands with a confused expression.
"I don't know, Father. I was just daydreaming and I didn't realise I was doing it."
"That is very weird. I need to check the records; I'll speak with you later." With that he stood up and left the dining room in a huff.
Ceryn was left sitting at the table struck still by shock. She had never used a knife as a weapon before so how did she know how to spin it in such intricate patterns. And she could have sworn she cut herself when her father mentioned it but there was no blood or cut.
She stood up and left, using a smaller door than her father did and went to a different part of the gardens. She nodded to a few of the maids as she passed them but otherwise she was on her own, just as she liked it.
Once she got there she chose her normal spot and laid down, looking at a fountain with shaped shrubs around it. She closed her eyes and started mulling over her behaviour at breakfast. She checked the pockets of her trousers on a whim and the knife was there. She could have sworn she left it on the table when she left, not wanting to see the damned thing again. It was half out of its wooden holder and she decided to take it out to look at it again. Out in the sunlight the knife seemed to come to life with the flame patters looking like they were moving and orange in colour. It was the prettiest thing she had seen, far more beautiful than all the jewels her father always wanted her to wear. Maybe she could use this as their guards used knives. No, that was a stupid idea. Who'd ever heard of a female warrior? But it was well crafted, even to her limited knowledge and had very good balance to it. She tried to push the notion of learning to use it as a weapon as her father walked into the garden holding an old book that was falling apart.
"Ah, Ceryn, that's where you are. I've figured out where this knife came from. I had to go into Arthurs' own journals but I did it."
Ceryn looked up from the knife and saw the sparkle in her father's eyes.
"It's Excalibur, Ceryn! Your grandfather, the wily bastard, managed to get it melted down by following this ritual a witch gave him. Then he and a few others took metal and cast it into different objects with wooden covers. They weren't ever meant to be found because he was thought to be the last heir to the throne! Ceryn," her father's tone was suddenly grave but still excited. "You are queen of this land."
Ceryn's eyes widened and she stood stock still, shocked. She was queen? She shook her head quickly. "How am I queen, Father? I'm barely into my tenth year."
"Age does matter but not as much as you think it does. Arthur only became king when he was thirty as Uther didn't die until he was seventy. Uther himself became king at the age of fifteen. You just need the right training and teaching. And we need to prove what I've found to be true."
"But how do we do that? No one is going to believe a fallen family such as ours. Also... I would rather be a warrior, trained to use the knife well." She looked down to avoid her father's eyes as she said this and instantly regretted it.
"Why is that, Ceryn?" He walked forwards and leant down so she was taller by a little.
"I don't think that even with the proof they would accept me... and I don't know why but I really want to learn how to fight now. It feels like I should already know how to do it."
Her father smiled, which was the exact opposite of how she thought he'd react. "That's great, Ceryn. In Arthur's journals he said that when he pulled Excalibur from the stone he was overcome by the urge to use it and he knew how. Everyone that saw him fight said that his skill was like that of an elf, which no human ever has any hope of achieving. Unless, of course, they have a magical sword! And you have the knife made of that sword! I'll talk to Shanara and ask him if he can begin to train you in combat."
Ceryn smiled at how her father could get so excited about something that seemed to be so trivial. To her it seemed like unless they could get the other nobles to believe them her having a part of Excalibur was useless. Even if its powers had awoken for her.
"Thank you, Father. I promise to do well and become the best warrior of this land and restore our house," she said meaning every word of it.
Her father walked away with his nose buried in the book. "Yes, I'm sure you will," he muttered to himself.
Once her father was out of sight Ceryn picked up the knife and put it back in its scabbard. The day had been very eventful so far and she'd only been away several hours. Because of this, she was exhausted and settled back down onto the grass and fell asleep.
