The Title of Saint
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Legends often start how you’d imagine. Great people doing great things and earning an equally grand reputation. The forging of the keys for instance, or the reclamation of society. However this is not a great story of a great man but a simple one of a boy. A boy who would someday become great.
This boy’s name was Ader. As most boys did he worked for his father tending fields, and raising animals in their farm. Busy is the life of a peasant if he wants to eat, but what little time he had to himself he spent amount two hobbies. One being the age old pastime of fishing. Pulling river trout and such from streams and ponds. And the other was spent with his close friends watching and imitating the knights of the nearby township.
Of all the games they played their very favorite was “the grand champion”. Modeled after the knight’s event by the same name, they would execute flashy swordsmanship with sticks and wooden farm tools. Either forcing the other to yield, or bonk them on the head until they did. One spring day as they played next to the overful stream, witch quite qualified as a river with the spring run off, tragedy struck. While Ader came out supreme as he always did, he decided to take it a step farther. And force his opponent who was much smaller than him into the stream. But before he knew it, what had been a playful jest turned sour as his playmate was washed downstream.
In a panic they searched for him until nightfell and into the wee hours. But before they could find him, a knight found them. The explanation that was given was akin to the accident that occurred, however Ader painted himself as the defender, trying to keep everyone safe and controlled. The knight taking his explanation was impressed by the coolheadedness of the young boy. Even offering to take him on as an apprentice.
With the thought of covering his crime and making an escape Ader accepted. A visit to home and the same lie spun for the rest of his town was all that was left for him in his old home. His grief compounded daily as he practiced the swordsmanship that his friends where so deficient in.
Meanwhile his friend was found over a year later. Making his way home in the dead of winter with a farm tool in hand, whitled into the shape of a sword. His retelling of the tale was pushed aside as delirious or contrived compared to the soon to be knight known as Ader. Ader on the other hand once he heard started training in earnest. He must become a knight, otherwise his story could come under scrutiny, his other friends abandoning him. His last trial was to compete in a real “Grand Champion” bout. Held as alway open to the public.
Talented in every event Ader had no problem proving himself. They last event of swordsmanship was a mear moot point. An exhibition of skill for cheering fans. However he came to his second opponent and froze in recognition. The boy who was washed away and found his way back.
Dispite his opponet he fought with his full heart. Knowing that if he lost it would forever haunt him. But he was pushed farther and farther back. The wild and unpredictable style born from a year of wandering alone would prove too much for Ader. To the sound of applause the young men stood in the center of an arena. One; a knight to be who had been unarmed, the other a commoner with a wooden blade.
That day one name was cheered. The name of the boy with the wild hair and the wooden sword. His name was Muller.
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