Forever Knight

Knighted

Charli watched Wayde approach, ignoring the stutter in her heart as her eyes skimmed him from head to toe, knowing that he couldn’t see her.  Still, she drew herself further into the shadows, not wanting anyone from the courtyard to see her.  Should she be spotted, Wayde would be the least of her worries.

He strode with confidence, his head held high, his shoulders back, his chest out, every movement a quiet command for respect from those around him.  If she didn’t know him so well she might go as far as to label him arrogant.  The simple black uniform of boots, pants, and shirt fit him impeccably, the muscles of his biceps evident even under the long sleeves.  His vest wrapped snuggly around his torso, a pistol securely hugged his thigh, and the black knit cap hid any trace of the unruly black curls she knew lay underneath.

He embodied everything her father wanted when he established the Royal Order of Knights.  She still rolled her eyes at the corny, medieval name he had given to the volunteer militia but upon research into the history of real Knights she had to admit the description fit.

When the country had fallen apart and the government succumbed to its irate citizens her father had been well-prepared.  A “doomsday prepper” of enormous proportions, it was his foresight that had saved many lives and kept their small corner of the world stable and functioning for the past ten years.

A large part of his success came from the volunteers to his militia, men who wanted a chance to be important, to contribute, and above all find a sense of purpose in a world that no longer had one.  Taking a cue from the code of the Knights, her father had created a brotherhood of men who had been willing to defend the life he promised to sustain.  While there were still many men who volunteered, the role of the ROK had become something of an honor to pass down in families.

Wayde’s father, William Baker, had been an original and from the time he saw his Dad gain respect inside their small community he’d wanted nothing more than to follow in his footsteps.  For the past eight years he’d done nothing but train to become the best fighter, the best tracker, the best marksman, the best everything. 

And he had.

There was only one person who could ever beat him, only one individual who had ever hit a tighter target than his or eluded his capture.

Her.

She smiled as she watched him stop to stand in front of the line of officials, offering them a crisp, respectful bow of the head.  Today he would be knighted.  Today he would be inducted into the brotherhood and be sent to protect their borders.

This hadn’t been much of a job over the last few years.  After the initial chaos of refugees and looters and thugs, their community had settled into a mostly peaceful existence.  Wedged between the river and the mountains they were hard to approach and easily defended.

That peace now wavered, threatened again by outside forces, communities that didn’t like her father or the success with which he governed.  Never a politician, only a wealthy man with people skills and the intelligence to see the bigger picture, he had quickly become the unofficial leader inside their community. 

Over most things Charli wouldn’t argue his decisions or abilities.  There was only one sore spot that kept her at odds with her father: his stubborn determination to keep woman out of the militia. 

Granted, ninety-nine percent of the women were more than happy to oblige that rule.  Charli made up the other one percent.

She had watched Wayde train from the time they were ten, a longing to do something other than garden and mend and raise livestock burning like fire inside her.  She had begged him to let her train with him, convincing him it was just out of the desire to be able to defend herself should she ever need to.