Category Archives: The Knight And The Princess

From Fructidor to Nivôse

The Princess slept. It had taken two days to climb the Stair, and should have taken three. Now, in the gloaming, she slept like a wounded animal, turned into herself. She seemed so fragile in the dying light, skin like … Continue reading

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Lord Chimaculean’s Stair

Days passed without leaving footprints. Each dawn broke slate gray and chill, the ash of the last night’s fire cold, already damp. The barrens seemed endless, a landscape taken from a dream, each direction the same, each leading nowhere. The … Continue reading

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Another Fire, Another Light

“Can you snare?” The Knight asked. It was the evening after they had buried their empty packs. They had taken as much food as they could carry, which hadn’t been much for hard traveling. The Princess looked at him, confused. … Continue reading

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In The Firelight

She was wrapped in the tunic of young soldier, scarce more than a boy, who had died in one of the first engagements with the besiegers. It hung on her like a cloak. In tales, the Knight reflected, young women … Continue reading

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The Knight and the Princess

Perhaps it was the smoke on the horizon that turned the setting sun into a dropped blood orange, or perhaps it was the pus-slimed wound in the his side, but the King was coughing–quietly, almost apologetically, a diametric opposite from … Continue reading

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