March 25th, Autumn, in the year 2935 of the Markayan Calendar…

The Great Hall of Castle Ardent was ablaze with light and colour as its occupants revelled and feasted in preparation for the newest group of Pages to arrive. This was the fortress and home of the Order of the Knights Ardent, where they trained the next generation of Knights who would defend the weak and the Holy Places of the Earth Goddess, Plangea.

The Hall was filled with great long tables that stretched the length of the Hall, at the end farthest from the door was a raised dais with a high table that seated nine. All but one of these seats were filled, each with a heroic figure seated. The most central seat was occupied by the Grandmaster of the Order, a huge, broad chested man with flowing blonde hair and piercing green eyes, he was Lord Derron Forrgrim. To Derron’s right was the second in command of the Order, Order-Marshal William Spanian, a stocky man with dark hair and a quick smile, the two talked and joked endlessly with one another. The chair to Derron’s left was the un-occupied seat. The other seats were filled with the other Marshals of the Order, each commanded a Company of one hundred Knights, known as a Brotherhood, in addition to the Squires and support units a Knight required.

A hush fell over the crowd as the great oaken doors of the Hall swung inward, admitting the tall, ragged figure of Battlemaster Harken Dark-Anvil, he had the look of a barbarian, cloaked as he was in wolf fur, over hunting leathers and a broad-bladed slashing sword at his hip, the only mark of his nobility and knighthood was a pristine white belt that all Knights wore, standing in stark contrast to the rest of his garb. His face was lined and leathery, bringing to mind a sheer granite cliff face. One of his eyes was missing and covered by a studded leather eye-patch. This was the man who led in a group of eager and nervous Pages, all young boys of around seven years of age, ready to face another seven years of training to become Squires and eventually Knights of the Order. He led them towards the raised dais for the ceremonial introductions they would give, introducing themselves and stating their worth to the Order.

At the head of the group of boys was a blonde youth who stood head and shoulders over all but the tallest of children, already showing signs of the giant he would become. His blonde hair and green eyes were convincing markers even without his size, this was the youngest son of the Grandmaster himself, and the third of his children to join the Order. The Blonde boy stepped forward and bowed to the raised dais, he climbed to the second stair and turned to face the gathered Knights, Squires and older Pages.

“Noble Lords and Ladies of the Order, I am Wulfrick Forrgrim, son of Derron, I am the youngest Scion of House Forrgrim, my arm is strong and my mind quick, I stand before you to declare my intent to join your great Order and rise to your Peerage as an equal once trained.” The boy declared the ritual words with care, enunciating as clear as possible. The Hall erupted to thunderous cheers, a couple of young knights bearing the same blonde hair let out whistles of encouragement. Wulfrick stepped back down to stand on the Battlemaster’s right, looking up to receive a grin and a wink from his father. Looking up at the Battlemaster the boy whispered quietly, “How’d I do Uncle Hark? I didn’t stutter did I?” He was rewarded with a big hand ruffling his hair.

“Ye’ did fine lad, jus’ fine.” The Battlemaster spoke softly in his lilting Hibernian accent, “Bu’ ye’ can’t be callin’ me Uncle here, alrigh’?” The older man looked meaningfully at his young charge.

“Yes my Lord.” Wulfrick answered with a respectful dip of the head. He turned to watch the rest of the boys introduce themselves, each was met with a round of cheers and applause from the assembled Knights. The crowd descended into quiet murmurs after the last boy stepped back down, as the senior Knights began discussing who they thought would succeed on the path to Knighthood. There was no discussion on Wulfrick, except a few comments from his brothers, he was the Grandmaster’s son, and there was no doubt he’d not only succeed but thrive.

The Grandmaster rose from his seat and spread his arms in a welcoming gesture, “Thank you to our brave initiates, the Order welcomes you into our Hall, we bid you join us in our feast tonight and tomorrow you will be sorted into your own Brotherhoods, for now eat and enjoy yourselves.” The big man re-seated himself but crooked a finger at his youngest son and beckoned him up to the high table. Following a nod from Harken, Wulfrick walked up the steps to stand before his father. The old Knight looked at his youngest son with a grin, “Glad you made it here safe my boy, how’re you feeling?” He asked, all paternal concern and none of the authoritative command his voice usually held.

“I’m well father, Ma sends her greetings from home, she said to tell you we’ll have at least fifty new mounts ready for the Order this year plus an additional Month’s worth of supplies from the crops we planted last year, bumper harvest you see.” The boy explained, his voice bearing the accent of a well-rehearsed script, “Ma made me memorise it verbatim.” Wulfrick chuckled nervously, “I hope I didn’t forget anything.”

“You did good Wulf, I’ll pen a letter for your mother tonight after the feast, go join your new brothers and we’ll talk again soon, tell Harken he should join us at the High Table.” Derron ordered giving a quick smile and made a shooing gesture with his hands. Wulf offered a mock salute and ran to the far end of the Hall to relay the message and join his newfound comrades at the lowest table.

Wulf found himself seated between a small, wiry boy with black hair and a crooked nose, his features oddly rat-like, and a large Norglander boy with crimson hair and emerald eyes. The rat boy introduced himself as Phillipe of Veness, and the Norglander in his thick accent introduced himself as Haegr of Yggfjord. Both chatted amiably and began swapping stories of their journeys to the Order. Phillipe explained somewhat extravagantly how he was the disenfranchised son of a Venessian Viscount and a Knighthood of the Order was his only way to gain back his Father’s name and fortune. Eliciting a chuckle from the other Noble boys. Haegr grinned until it was his turn to speak.

“A member of my bloodline has always served the Order, up until fifty years ago when the Order sided against Norgland in the Second Border War, in recent times my family was persecuted for our ties to the Order, following my Father’s murder I fled south, seeking refuge with the Order, the Battlemaster knew my Grandfather and granted me sanctuary.” The boy said flatly, though his face showed signs of the pain within. Wulf reached out a hand to grip the boy’s shoulder in a gesture of solidarity and comfort.

“You’re among friends here, Haegr, we’re all brothers now.” The young Forrgrim insisted, to a chorus of assent from the gathered boys. The group went quiet when two figures appeared behind Wulf’s seated form. The two men were clearly twins, standing at an impressive six feet and five inches tall, broad shouldered with long blonde hair and quick smiles, in short they were the spitting image of a slightly older Wulfrick, and almost in unison they spoke. “Wulfykins finally made it!” and they proceeded to lift him from his seat and hold him in the air while one of the twins rubbed Wulf’s head hard with their knuckles. The young boy kicked and complained at this treatment until he could struggle free.

“Dirk and Blayze, how’d I know you’d be the first to come say hello?” The boy chuckled giving his older brothers a long mock glare. Turning to the others he introduced them, “Everyone I present my brothers, Sir Dirk and Sir Blayze of Order-Marshal Spanian’s Brotherhood.” The others turned to look at the twins with something close to awe, these men were knights, everything these young boys aspired to be. Dirk flashed them all a wide grin.

“You’ll get to know us in time lads, I’ll be instructing you in the basics of swordsmanship this year and Blayze will be covering basic spell craft. Old Harken will cover most of your training but he likes to bring in assistants throughout the term.” Dirk explained evenly, slapping his twin on the shoulder, “We’ll talk soon Wulf, but we’d best get back to the feast before our Brothers steal all the food.” The twins each embraced their little brother before hurrying back to their table. Phillipe stared wide-eyed at Wulfrick.

“I get it now, the name and the hair, you’re the Grandmaster’s son!” He screeched in his heavy Venessian accent. Wulf simply nodded and gave a shrug.

“It’s not exactly a secret Phillipe, I did mention it in my introduction.” Haegr began to laugh, the sound echoing like a bell from the big boys barrel shaped chest.

“You mean you didn’t pick it simply by looking at the two of them, Phillipe?” The Norglander cried with mirth.

It wasn’t long after they had finished eating that the Battlemaster came to collect them again and lead them out of the main hall and out of the main keep itself. For the duration of their Page training they’d be quartered in the Page Barracks near the forest on the western side of the Fortress. They reached their new quarters in the inky darkness, the moon rising high in the sky gave fitful light, enough to make out the four long buildings that housed their bunks. Battlemaster Harken gestured to a small Cabin off to one side, “That is my quarters, should you need to find me outside of lessons, that is where I will be, now before we bid each other a good evening it is time to split into your Brotherhoods. This year we have access to all four Dorms, and we have forty new Pages, therefore you need to elect four Brother-Captains. Your Captain will lead your Brotherhood through the trials to come, do not make this decision lightly, now any nominations?” The words had barely left the Battlemaster’s lips before Haegr’s hand shot up.

“I’d like to nominate Wulfrick, Sir.” The Norglander said.

“Is there a second?” The Battlemaster responded, to which Phillipe raised his hand.

“Aye there is.” The Venessian answered.

“And do you accept Wulfrick?” The old man asked, turning his gaze on the young Forrgrim. Wulf met his eyes levelly running through it in his mind, Dirk had been a Brother-Captain, Blayze had been nominated to but declined to avoid being separated from his twin. Coming to a decision, Wulf squared his shoulders.

“Yes Sir, I’ll take this responsibility.”

“Good, congratulations Brother-Captain Wulfrick.”

********************************

Sunlight pierced through the clear glass of the window and lay gently against Wulf’s cheek as he lay in his bed. The room he’d been allocated was next to the office area he’d been given as Brother-Captain of his Brotherhood, it was spacious and contained a comfortable bed and a large desk, along with a tall oaken wardrobe for his clothing and a rack for his weapons and armour once he got them. His office was furnished with an identical desk and several bookshelves, it was here that he’d be required to write the reports on the Brotherhood’s performance for the Battlemaster.

The young Captain stirred as the sun brushed his face, their classes didn’t start until late that afternoon and at the Battlemaster’s bidding he had taken the opportunity to sleep in, he wouldn’t get another chance for several months. So it was that Wulf slept well past sunrise and only rose when hunger got the better of him, stretching out to his full height and listening to the soft cracks of his spine, he rose with a grin as he pulled on his new Page’s uniform, a white tunic with the Order’s crossed hammers on the right breast with a sleeveless leather jerkin and brown trousers, belted with a simple, black leather belt and knee high riding boots of a glossy black leather. Once dressed he exited the room and headed for the front veranda where he could smell cooking. His boots making loud clopping sounds as they hit the hard floorboards, he exited the Dorm building to see a group of boys looking to him, each now members of his Brotherhood.

Wulfrick nodded to each in turn, “Good morning lads, please tell me there’s some bacon left over?” He asked with a broad grin, Haegr gestured him over to where a plate of steaming, fresh bacon sat.

“Saved you some Captain.” He answered dutifully, Wulf acknowledged the use of his new rank with a smile and nod.

“Thank you Haegr, we have some business to discuss today before classes start, once I eat I want everyone dressed and ready outside, decisions to make and assessments to be made.” Wulf ordered, the boys who had finished quickly rose and saluted before hurrying inside to change into uniform, “Well I don’t know if we need salutes yet but thank you.” Wulf added with a smirk.

Once breakfast was finished the boys assembled in front of the Barracks in a rough line as Wulf surveyed them. “Alright, first we need to decide on a totem or name for our Brotherhood, suggestions?” he asked of the entire group. One boy, perhaps the smallest of the lot, stuck a hand up, at Wulfrick’s nod he answered.

“What about Gryphons, Sir?” The little boy asked, to a chorus of agreement from the surrounding boys. Wulf nodded, looking around.

“Seems to be a consensus from everyone and I like it, Gryphons it is.”