(One-Hour Story) The Barefoot Knight

[grimoireofkenji]

 

My village isn’t known for much. We have an abundance of beautiful flowers, though. We actually grow the flowers the kingdom uses as its national flower, though. There’s a big red-yellow Chrysanthemum on our flag. I happen to tend to the specific patch owned by the third princess. If you want my opinion, though, she doesn’t deserve them. She has no idea how to deal with flowers. She has no sense of delicacy or care when she picks or holds them. She simply sees them as another accessory to her beauty, and as often as possible, I’ll deliver the flowers to her, or have her send a Requisitions officer who I can actually speak to sensibly without being put to death for talking out of turn.

There was one person who I allowed into my garden, though. A knight who was positioned at the Castle of the Duke. About a mile from our village, to the north, the Duke’s manor lies. It’s the only well-paved path we have, so it’s nearly impossible to get lost looking for it. Every morning, I’d see the same guardswoman watch me tend to the flowers with a look of longing upon her face. She had long, sharp crimson hair, and piercing green eyes. She was focused on the flowers, and I feel like she had somehow tuned me out completely. She quickly snapped back, flustered, when I asked her if she’d like to get a closer look. She ran to the opening of the fence, her chainmail clanking and her sword scabbard hitting her thigh. She walked carefully once she entered the field. I told her that trying to avoid stepping in flowers while wearing armored boots was silly, and that she’d be better off removing them completely. Her normally intense, powerful face looked down at me, kneeling in front of the Lilies, in complete confusion. “Really?” She asked. At once, she began undoing the straps on her boots. I was joking with her, but her readiness to protect the flowers stunned me. I didn’t even think to inform her. Her armor still clanked, and her sword scabbard still knocked against her thigh, but now she was barefoot and stepping warily through the field. She reached where I was kneeling and squatted down.

“And what kinda flowers are these, Gardener?” She pointed at the lilies.

“They’re Lilies.” I said, not bothering to correct her. Even squatting, she had about a foot on me. She didn’t look much older than me, no sign of wrinkles, but there was a large scar on her right cheek. Her bright green eyes looked down in wonder at the… admittedly common flowers. Common for me.

“They’re real pretty-like.” She replied. She clearly wasn’t very educated. I was taught to read and write so I could log my knowledge of flowers and pass it on to the next gardener, but her, as a guardswoman and knight, didn’t find it necessary, I suppose. This specific Duchy’s… frugality was well known throughout the kingdom

“Yeah, they are. I’m actually about to tend to the chrysanthemums now. Care to join me?” Truth be told, I didn’t exactly mind having her follow me around. I stood up and went to head for the next patch. She shot up with the precision of someone trained to rise on command and was on my tail. 

The knight’s tabard caught the breeze as we walked past all the patches of flowers. I eventually reached the area I was cultivating Mums in and reached for my shears. I knelt down, and the knight did as well. She lifted her large scabbard as she did so it wouldn’t land on the flowers when she knelt. 

“Aye, thanks a bunch for being careful.”

“It’s the least I can do! Yer showing me such beautiful flowers”

“Ah, no. This is my least favorite color of Chrysanthemum. The special ones are over the-”

“What’s wrong with green Chrysanthe... whatsits?” She seemed offended. 

“Nothing! Your eyes are green and they’re pretty beautiful!” I responded, trying quickly to change the subject. The last thing I needed in my fields was an angry brute with a sword almost my height.

“OH?” her milk-white skin was flushed red as she stared at me, her normally intense gaze light and fluttery. It was like I was staring at a completely different person. She wasn’t nearly as scary as she looked when she was inspecting me and the flowers from afar.

 

“Yeah, your eyes are ‘real pretty. Just like these mums here.” I said, snipping some of the green chrysanthemums and handing her one. She stared at it, transfixed, before putting it in between the links of her chainmail, right above her breast. She flashed me a simple smile. “Thank ya kindly!”

The fact that I had managed to not only make her forget that I had insulted her favorite color and distract her was enough to make me sigh in relief. The guardsmen were normally quite cruel to me, using my stationary form in the fields as archery practice. A few times, I’d actually been nailed by their dull training arrows. It still hurt. I rubbed my side where they’d last hit me, yesterday.

Right as I thought I was about to get off scot-free this morning because I was with a guardswoman, a whooshing sound from behind me instantly knocked the very idea of that out of my head, along with my part of my consciousness. The arrow striking me felt like getting hit with a blackjack. They were blunt and non-lethal, but I knew already I’d be reeling for a while. I lay on the ground, reluctant to get up, lest they try and take aim again.

“HEY! What do you think you’re doing, Guardsman!?” The knight was up on her bare feet before I lifted my head up. I scanned her large body from the ground. Her muscular figure was visible below her chainmail, and her body blocked out the glare of the morning sun. Her feet looked soft and pale, like she wore boots most of the time and didn’t take them off. Her toes curled in the cold soil in anticipation. They were lighter than her face. Her bangs blew in the wind, the rest of her long hair restrained by her coif.

“We’re just playin a game with the gardener! Got a problem!?”

“Yes, you fool! Who do you think cares for the flowers?” She shot back, her body tense with anger.

“What do we care for these flowers? Why should we care about some shoddy gardener?” The second guardsman replied, a smug grin on his face.

And just like that, she was upon them. Without stepping on a single flower, the barefoot knight breezed over the garden wall and was bashing the second guard with her scabbard. The first tried to pull her off and took a chainmail elbow to the face, falling back onto his bottom. 

The guardswoman’s boots lay on the ground next to me. She didn’t seem to care for them in lieu of defending my honor.

“A-argh, damnit! We’ll apologize! We’ll apologize, so leave him alone! He’ll die if ye keep beatin on him like this!”

“Those who disrespect flowers should probably die, anyway!” She replied, standing up and clapping her hands together. “Ye hear that, gardener!? They say they’re sorry!”

“Ah… uh, yes! Apology accepted!” I said back quickly, not wanting to answer to officers about why there was a guard’s corpse and a bloody guardswoman right outside my garden. She shot me back a dumb, satisfied grin, adjusting the green chrysanthemum in her chain links. I smiled back. I wouldn't mind if she returned to view the flowers again.