Journeys Chapter One

On the day that Iohn was packing to leave home, another group of people was getting ready to leave their homes. However, unlike Iohn, they were being forced to leave the only home that many of them had ever known.

The Knights of the Holy Rose, a militant order of monks that followed the teachings of the creative deity, were being driven from their home by the edicts of a king that couldn't stand humble people living quiet lives of contemplation.

The bloodthirsty and hedonistic monarch couldn't stomach the thought of an armed camp of people who fundamentally disagreed with his greater goals, yet wouldn't stop him with anything, save words and deeds. Those quiet people vexed him and the thought that someone stood in quiet defiance of his edicts drove him to create ever new ways to draw them into his insanity.

He crafted laws that required them to send their children into his institutions of learning, and they calmly taught their children as they had for generations. When he changed laws that required the offerings of their children to the elder gods of chaos, the Knights withdrew from public life, or worse (in his mind) held to their own faith. When he called for them to give up their daughters to his own depredations, they refused, and even went out of their way to help other people escape him.

When he took over the churches and started teaching his own insane thoughts as theological doctrine, the monks and their families continued to pray to the creative god.

But what had driven him over the edge, was when he had declared war on a neighboring country, and had called for every able bodied man to report for war, and those pesky monks had simply not shown up. In his anger, he had gathered up a handful of innocent farmers and had threatened to kill them if the monks didn't show up in his throne room by weeks end.

Rather than let innocent people die, the residing Knight Priest Grandmaster, one Patryg Marshall, had gathered ten of his fellow monks and traveled to the Palace, arriving before the weeks end and staying overnight in a chapter house.

When they had shown up at the palace gates, arrayed in their simple robes, under which they wore the traditional formal armor (which consisted of chain mail that covered them from shoulders to knees, a chain coif that covered their heads, a pair of tanned leather gloves that ran from fingertips to elbows, and black boots that covered them from toes to knees,) the palace guardsmen stopped them.

"What brings you here, Monk?" One of the guards inquired with a sneer. He might as well have said, coward for all the respect he showed.

Patryg calmly looked up at the two guardsmen. "Our presence was requested by the King. We are here."

The younger guard's lips curled in disgust. "You must surrender your weapons before being granted admission to the throne room."

One of the men behind Patryg arched a brow, his hand resting on the hilt of his long sword. "You may try to take our weapons, but...." He paused as the Knight Priest raised his right hand.

Choosing to ignore the younger hothead, Patryg turned his attention to the older guardsman. "You know of our rites and orders." It wasn't a question.

The older soldier nodded, "Aye, Lord Marshall, I do." He made the sign of the creator. "Do I have your word that you will not attack our king?"

Patryg merely gazed at him. "You do. We will lift no arms, save to defend ourselves."

The older guard, satisfied, nodded and then led the militant monks into the castle.

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