Just like that, her query into books had ended in a pathetic moment of being shoved to the side and made to feel utterly foolish. Dirtier than what she had been, she bent forward with a magnificently bratty ‘huff’ and began to head back home. Bookless, but not breadless, so at the very least she’d only get a talking to for taking so long in the day. . .Some days, she wished she could have read sooner in life. Regretful of the times she spent on the chickens or even in the home with the family. If only she could have ventured from beyond the walls sooner than this, or even, born as a man so that there could be no denial of her journey to knighthood. To learning. A lust for a life unattainable beckons the girl to pathetic wallowing's, her once confident steps shuffling into the dirt. Kicking up small rocks and bits of dirt into her shoes, ruining the already ruined cream color that so drearily matched her kaftan. Feeling forlorn and defeated, the girl made herself ready for mother’s fury at her new appearance before blinking hard at a bright flash of light hitting her eyes. A momentary blindness whose cause quickly sparks across even the dullest of surfaces in the village.  

Her eyes opened to a rising swarm of villagers, even miss Castiglioni had passed her by to head toward that shine. The chanting of the villagers rose to booming cheers of happiness, as if in chorus of hymns needed to guide what they were cheering for to a safe destination. Rumbling her bones and patting violently upon her young heart.  

                        ‘‘‘‘‘‘gods bless the knights!’’’’’’ 

                                              ‘‘‘‘‘gods bless poros!’’’’’ 

Unable to tolerate her ignorance any longer, she hooked the handle of her basket tightly under her arm and began to look around for a higher viewpoint - only to feel a pair of rough hands grab her beneath her tiny arms, lifting her legs above a large head in a single, swooping attempt, laughing in the familiar and blanketing voice of -  

“Baba!”  she squealed out, repeatedly patting her father's head like a drum. Indignant. But all her father returned to her was that same bright laughter, pointing toward the barrage of shining metals up ahead. 

“You’ve never seen the Knights return, have you?” he said, moving his way through the crowd and shouting over the noise so that she could hear him. It barely worked, but she replied with a ‘no’ just as loudly.  

“They’ve returned from their excursion. I would have thought you’d hear it in the village somehow! Well well!” 

“Baba, where did they go exactly?” 

“To the kingdom nearest ours. But you needn’t worry too much about things like that. All you need to know now is that because of our king's grace, we are safe. There. Look closely, my little bird.” 

She obeyed him without question, looking past the sea of people to the horizon of shine that threatened to harm her eyes.  

A count of three knights stride through the streets, long poles baring the large and imposing flag of the Kingdom. So deeply green with silver in its border and emblem, boldly displaying the outline of a creature. Presumed to be powerful, but to her, it was more of the same sort of stories that the other villagers had told her before. In the form of an animal called a ‘lion’, with the shape of magnificent wings protruding from its back, its long tail curling around the legs like a snake. The closer you looked at the head of that lion, it seemed as if horns had sprouted to crown its intimidating appearance. Qistina had seen more detailed imagery of this symbol before; in higher adornments, sewn into quilts and capes and the like – even drawn in eloquent and painstakingly detailed charcoals and colors. Images that, if you stared hard enough, it was as if by looking into the image, the animal would begin to rip its way through and grip its jaws to the throat in punishment.  

Their attire bore that same imagery of foreboding. Highly intricate armors covered the whole lot of them neck to toe, leaving helmets with soft gold plumes to the sides so that they could all bask in the joyous faces of their villagers with clear, unburdened sights. Once they’d gotten close enough to make out the finer features of their tired faces even as they passed through the crowd, she could finally take a glimpse at the squires. Trailing behind on horses like the Knights before them, but significantly smaller. Some even looked to be the same age as herself, still baby-faced and full of awe at the crowd around them. As if they couldn’t believe the people were cheering for them, all except one. She couldn’t help but notice that one of them in the middle had a much different light shining from his eyes as he looked out to the crowd. Bashful, yet looking as if he had always belonged there as the center of everyone’s attention.  

A young boy with hair like the sunshine – those wavy strands framing his face akin to a golden frame for a masterpiece of warm skin and icy blue eyes. If ever there was the look of a knight, it was this boy. Even for her, as mistrusting of strangers as she was as a small girl, he wore the face of someone she could go to if she had a problem. If she were in trouble, that was the sort of person who would save her! 

“Caught your eye as well, did they? Who’d of thought my little girl a fan of knights!” As if reading her mind of these fantastical delusions, her father spoke up above the crowd, now moving in the opposite direction of the procession of knights and people headed toward the castle. Even by the noise of the crowd, she could hear his rumbling laughter. “ Can't be helped, now can it? The Knights are an important and glorious part of this Kingdom, Qistina. Without them, surely these walls would not have protected us from what lies in wait beyond it. Beasts and wicked demons and thieves – "

" Thieves don't sound as bad as a beast or a wicked demon, now do they? " she cut him off, frowning from the knights to the top of her father's head, puffing up at once. " Such things are in story alone, aren't they? Tales to keep the children from the forests! Baaaaabaaaaaaaaaa I am an infant no longer, just look at their shining armor! It's clean, isn't it? What could they have possibly slain out there? "

By now the crowd had dispersed – once boisterous and overbearing, now a slow dragging of chattering feet traveling back to house and humble dwelling. It seemed as if nearly everyone had stopped what they were doing just to catch a glimpse of the heroes coming back into camp. Glorious and shining. Returned from their venture to thunderous cheers from grateful villagers. Though she did not understand completely, she could appreciate that the safety of her home ( however strained ) was because of the Knights of the King. Even the boy in armor contributed to that safety. For a moment, she pondered whether or not it would be worth it to approach him to thank him, but then the question of 'who would that be more embarrassing for?' smothered her thoughts, pushing her to bury her face into the top of her fathers head, tickling her nose in the sea of stark white hair. More and more questions propped themselves up beyond that bit of embarrassment, with the most important being – what is it they are protecting the village from? She knew of lions, of wolves, of bears, and of even people who took from and destroyed other villages to get what they desired. Surely, alchemy was not needed for that. Such fantastical power would be meant for something just as amazing, wouldn't it?

Qistina turned her head toward the village walls, perfectly aligned against an uneven sight of treetops on the horizon, and was reminded so strongly that the walls were made of the thickest logs and alchemically altered iron that not even the strongest of bears could have budged – let alone a human! The very realization had left that same iron gripping upon a young heart, cringing inwardly all while wishing she could retreat into her father's body for safety, much like the chick that burrows beneath the hens' feathers. With this comforting wish, she kissed the top of his head and rested her cheek upon it. Despite his strong, wide strides down the dirt roads, she could easily shut her eyes and sleep until forced to set her feet upon the earth again.

Just as quickly as her eyes had closed and her mind drifted off into dreams does she awaken by the sudden, violent thud of many heavy objects thrown onto the dirt road ahead of them. She squealed by the jolt of her fathers' quick halt in front of the mess, but just as she had watched a fallen villager emerge from that lumber was the cause of the noise made known. Far, far ahead of them was the silhouette of an animal she did not recognize – large enough to be a bear, thin and long enough that it could not possibly be. Its long body wriggled and shook in uncomfortable motions, shuddering as if standing in the biting colds of winter, while its color seemed to shift in the distance from milky whites to marbling onyx. Beneath the bright sunshine and surrounding chaos, there was no way to know of its name unless she were to approach. There was no way for her mind to take in its formidable and strange visage.

She stared fixedly on the creature until her eyes reached where its head should have been – crying out in shock when it turned to look directly at her with a singularly massive eyeball. Its overlarge, glassy and soul-searching eye burrowed fiercely into her blanken gaze.

Its overlarge, glassy, soul-searching red eye.

And just as her mind had begun to rest upon the falling sandcastle that was her new reality, the creature flung itself toward her and her father. Screaming. Squealing. Squelching its way past villager and oxen in desperation to reach its mark, with not a soul who could muster the strength to stop it! Her father had little time to protect the both of them, and it was all he could do but to back her into the corner to shield from the creatures deathblow. Now when finally did the creature reach daughter and father, stretching its maw wide to reveal the dagger sharpened rows beyond rows of fangs, suddenly its formidable danger was cut short! The single flash of a silver sword pierced through the back of its head!

– roughly splattering the two of them in its warm crimson, invading her mouth still agape from the brush of madness. Coating the tongue, gagging and wretching horribly.

The next few moments were only a blur in comparison to the slowed hours that was that morning ; from the deeply frantic, clumped together voices of the men growing louder, to the barely distinct lilt of her shaking father and his rough hands wiping away the viscera from her soft little body and face –– and now to the high praises indistinguishable save for the same comforting chants once before.

" Oh, gods bless you Ser Poros! " came her fathers voice, near. . . near tearful. Tearful? Her father? Her massive bear of a father? 

" Please, pleeeease I am only a squire, sir! " another voice came through clear within the deepened chorus of men; young, a boy not more older than herself or so it seemed, distinctly calm and far more close that she would have ever wanted . . . in other circumstances anyway. She heard not the other chattering when the boy came closer to check over her for injuries, for when she allowed her eyes to focus it had become clear that it was indeed the same boy she had seen riding atop the regally built steed. Clean and shining beneath the sunlight, now beaming at her completely covered in blood and muck.

" Atlas, just Atlas. "