Post by Florien Flowers on Aug 7, 2012 19:18:43 GMT -5
Ser Florien Flowers was now a man of the Night’s Watch but as he stood upon the Wall, looking out at the infinite snowy waste that lay stretched out before him, he could not help but reminisce about his life before he come north and take the black.
His childhood was not very eventful but it been good enough for a mere baseborn boy. His mother had been nothing more than a serving girl in a tavern owned by her father but Florien’s father was Lord Leyton Hightower. Early in his life the boy had always wondered why he did not live with his father like all of his friends did theirs but it soon became apparent that it was because the Lord did not have time for a bastard when he had trueborn sons to care for. His mother had often lied to Florien in attempts to hide the truth, she told him his father was too old to raise a young boy but he had been intelligent enough to see through her. Eventually he stopped caring about rather or not he got to spend time with Lord Leyton and grew to love spending time with his mother and grandfather at the tavern, he would clean whilst the regulars kept him entertained with stories of their travels.
When he grew into a strong teenaged lad Florien grew bored of spending his days in the tavern listening to the tales of travellers and yearned to have his own adventures. The bastard boy had only been sixteen when the Greyjoy rebellion had begun but he found he had some natural skill with a sword and, although he could not quite remember the exact circumstances in which it had happened, found himself sailing off to the Iron Islands to fight against the rebels that seemed to think they stood a chance against the armies of King Robert. The truth of the matter was they did not. The battle did not last very long but Florien found himself able to remember everything that had happened to him that day, he remembered the battle clearly.
“Through the breach men!” King Robert had shouted, he had led the attack on Pyke himself. It was a well known fact that he enjoyed war more so than anything else, even whores, beers and feasting.
Despite being barely more than a boy Florien had sprinted for the breach and was one of the first men through, swinging his sword in all directions to cut down the brave iron born men that where trying to kill him. He respected their willingness to die for Balon Greyjoy, whom they considered their king, but he did not quite understand why they did not simply surrender to the much greater force that had come to their island and killed many of their people. Perhaps it was bravery, perhaps it was stupidity. Florien had slain at least a dozen of his enemies when the fighting ceased and found himself standing beside some high Lord that he did not know, the man was covered in the blood of fallen enemies but he was smiling.
“What’s your name, boy?” he said in a cheerful tone of voice, addressing Florien.
“Florien, my lord, Florien Flowers,” the bastard replied.
“You fought bravely today, Florien, I’ll see to it that you’re knighted upon our return to the mainland,” the Lord said, before walking in the direction of the King and the other Lords that had taken part in the battle.
Florien Flowers had left Oldtown as nothing but a bastard boy but he returned as both a man and anointed knight. His mother and grandfather, who died but a week after his grandson returned from war, said they had never been more proud of him than they were on that day. Ser Florien, as he would be known for the rest of his life, had significantly raised his social standing when he was made a knight and this gave his father cause to acknowledge him as son but Lord Leyton did not legitimize him and thus he retained the name Flowers rather than becoming Ser Florien Hightower. He became his father’s most loyal knight and often acted as one of his personal guard but always addressed him as Lord Hightower as he could never adjust to calling the man his father after being without one for sixteen years of his life. He thought back, specifically to one conversation he had with his father.
“Florien,” Leyton Hightower said after they had broken their fast together one, “I’m sorry for not acknowledging you sooner...”
“It’s fine, my Lord, I understand,” Florien began, intending to say more but his father interrupted him half way his sentence.
“You don’t, you are my only baseborn son and I wanted to acknowledge you while you much younger but my lady wife said she was be insulted if I did so, due to you low standing but now, Florien, you are a knight. I considered legitimizing you but my lady would never allow it.”
It had been something Florien had dreamed of all of his life, his father had accepted him as his own and now he was saying that he had always wanted to do so but had been unable to until his bastard’s social standing had increased, but he was not sure how he felt about it. Deep inside he knew that had his father truly wanted to legitimize him he would do so regardless of what his wife had to say and had he wants to acknowledge him sooner he would. His father was making excuses but Florien did not care that it had taken sixteen years and a knighthood to establish any kind of relationship with his father, he was simply happy that he was finally getting to spend time with Lord Hightower, who trusted him enough to give him a place in his personal guard despite his age and inexperience. In truth, his father honoured him in more ways than he could ever have dreamed of.
During the years he had spent as a knight in his father’s service Florien had gone with him everywhere and watched over him. He had never had to save Lord Leyton Hightower’s life whilst he was in his personal guard but he had represented him well at tourneys and defended his honour on more than one occasion. Father and son did not exactly love one another at first but they grown closer with every year Florien spent living in his castle and serving in his guard, eventually the young knight was eating at his Father’s high table and was loved as a brother by all of his father’s trueborn children. When Florien looked back on this period of his life he knew it had been the best by far but things had gone downhill not long afterwards due to circumstances that were outside of his control, if he could turn back time he might have acted differently but, alas, he could not so and now he was a brother of the Night’s Watch.
One day whilst he was training in the yard of his father’s castle he received word that his mother had been assaulted in her tavern, the establishment within which Ser Florien had grown up and heard the stories that had inspired him to become a soldier and go to Pyke during the Greyjoy rebellion. He had immediately mounted a horse and ridden for the tavern to discover what terrible fate had befallen his mother, whom he loved more than anyone else in the world despite having spent the previous few years of his life in the service of his father. When he entered the tavern that he had practically been raised in he found that his mother had been beaten to the point that her own son barely recognised her and brutally raped, she was covered in blood, cuts and bruises. A crowd had formed outside of the tavern consisting of those that been inside when Florien’s mother had been attacked, the young knight stepped outside, angrier than he had ever been in his life, and began to question the bystanders.
“Who did this?” Florien said quietly. It surprised the people of the crowd as they had been expecting him to shout but that was not the knight’s way, he tended to get quiet and much more serious than loud like most people.
“Some young lordling, ser”, one of the men said, he was old and Florien recognised him from his childhood days spent in the tavern.
“Where did he go, Willis?” the knight remembered the man’s name, he was one of the travellers that had once shared his stories with Florien when he had been but a boy.
“He went in the direction of the citadel, Florien, said he was going to go find a maester for the scratches your mother gave his face,” Willis said, now addressing the knight by his name, “I tried to get close enough to stop him but he had armed guardsmen with him...”
“Those guardsmen won’t protect him from me,” the knight was already climbing on to his horse when those words passed through his lips.
Florien wheeled his horse around and kicked in his heels harder than ever before, his stallion went straight into a gallop through the streets of Oldtown. The smallfolk had the sense to move out of his path when they heard the horses hooves beating upon the hard ground, some of them shouted complaints at the knight that rode upon the steed but Florien did not care, all he wanted to do was find his mothers attacker and kill him regardless of his lordly status. Within fifteen of setting out from the tavern Ser Florien Flowers reached the citadel, pulled on his horses reins in order to slow it to a simple trot and began to scan the crowd for his target. It did not take long for him to spot a man of around twenty, dressed in fine armour, with a scratched face and two guardsmen flanking him, just as Willis said he would have. The lordling’s protectors definitely looked more threatening than the man himself which didn’t surprise Florien the slightest.
Dressed in his fine plate armour which bore the sigil of House Hightower, just like his father’s other guards, Florien jumped from his horse and began to push his way through the crowd of people that lay between him and the man he wanted to kill. When he grew close to the guardsmen that flanked the lordling Florien drew his sword and allowed it to scrape along the side of his scabbard in order to alert his target to his presence, he did this because he knew there was no honour in killing the lordling or his guards whilst they had their back turned to him. All of the men turned to face Florien and drew their swords the moment they saw his, none of them intended to die that day but that would not be the case, when Florien thought back to the day he slew the lordling he knew he should have done it discreetly rather than giving the men a chance to defend themselves, the scene they had causes was what had led to his arrest.
“Who are you?” the lordling said in some ridiculous fancy accent.
“My name is Florien Flowers,” the knight began, “and I in—“
“You’re a bastard... a bastard directly addressing a Lord?” one of the guardsmen said, interrupting Florien and looking down upon him all in the same sentence.
“I am a bastard, yes, but I am also a knight and the acknowledged son of Lord Leyton Hightower,” Florien said.
“Oh, for goodness sake, what do you want? Can’t you see I’m injured?” the lord said, pointing to the scratches on his face, “and you should refer to me by my proper title, bastard.”
“Well, my lord,” Florien said mockingly, “I have come to kill you. You got those scars when you raped my mother.”
“Guards, slay him!” the young lord exclaimed.
Without another word both of the guardsmen advanced upon Florien but neither one of them was particularly skilled with a sword, the knight felt he could have taken them one at a time with ease but with both of them attacking him at the same time he struggled slightly. He deflected their strikes with relative ease but they were slowly driving him back when Florien decided that things had to change, he kicked one of the guardsmen in the knee and drove his blade through his chest when he fell. Now that it was one versus one it became extremely easy for the knight to win the battle, the guardsman swung downwards at him but Florien was able to dodge causing the guardsman’s sword to become lodged in the dirt. Whilst he was trying to pull it out Hightower’s bastard was able to cleave off his left arm, the guardsman would either flee to the citadel with hopes of being healed by a maester or he would bleed to death. Florien advanced upon the lord once again.
“Mercy, please, show me mercy,” the lord said but he did not drop his sword.
“You didn’t show my mother mercy when you beat her... or when you raped her,” Ser Florien said, taking the man’s head off with one swing of his sword.
“Halt!” a voice shouted, “Drop your weapon!”
Florien turned and saw three of the Oldtown city watch rushing towards him. The knight did as he was told and allowed the men to arrest him, they knew who he was and told him he would be taken to a cell before being brought before his father to be judged. He sat alone in his cell for hours, stripped of both his armour and his sword, waiting for the city watchmen to come back in order to take him to his father. Ser Florien Flowers was not sure what to expect when his father judged him as, despite his son and one of his guardsmen, he had killed a lord and the punishment would, most likely be harsh. He would tell his father what had driven him to do what he had done, his mothers beating and rape, and, hopefully, Lord Leyton Hightower would show him some mercy despite the murders he had committed in front of many witnesses in the middle of Oldtown. Lord Hightower respected his son for his years of service but he had to up hold the law. The city watchmen came and collected him and took him to his father.
“Florien,” Lord Leyton said, “you’ve disappointed me.”
“Father... the man beat and raped my mother.”
“Even so,” his father said, “You kill three men, even if they were not innocent, and you will be punished for your actions. I will, however, give you a choice. You will either be executed via beheading or you will take the black and spend the rest of your days serving in the Night’s Watch”.
“I’ll go the Wall,” Florien said, he would rather spend years upon the Wall than be executed on his father’s orders and die in his twenties.
“You are my son, Florien, and you have served me well for many years but I must up hold the King’s Justice. All I can do is to allow you to keep your knightly title.”
Only a day after being judged and sentenced Florien and two of the knights he had served with in his father’s guard began the journey north to the Wall. The guards where there for two reasons; to help Florien defend himself should be attacked and to be sure he went to the Night’s Watch rather than simply going to a northern town and living there instead of taking his punishment. The journey to the Wall was long but it was not particularly hard, they were able to stop at several towns and holdfasts to rest on their way north, but they did encounter one or two problems including a group of bandits that had spotted their armour and decided that they would try to rob them and take their equipment and provisions. The brief had not gone well and the three knights had left six dead bandits dead on the Kings Road and continued on their journey, Florien would be the only one not to return to Oldtown
.
“Well, Ser Florien...” one of the knights that he had served began, “It was very good working with you.”
“Likewise,” said the other.
“You honour me,” Florien said, although he did sound too happy. Who would en route to the Wall?
“We’ve discussed it and, um... we’d be willing to set you free.”
“No. I may have committed murder but I am still a knight and I still have my honour,” despite his words, Florien did not feel very honourable. He felt as though he was dying on the inside, his laugh had fallen apart and he did not know what to expect when he reached the Wall and took the black.
“Okay...,” one of his fellow knights said, he didn’t seem to understand why Florien did not want to go free and live a new life rather than going to the Wall and never would.
After riding for a few days, with a few stops along the way, Ser Florien Flowers and his escorts finally reached the Wall. His fellow knights stayed for two nights rest and a few hot meals before they left but Florien would be there for the rest of his life, which could be for any number of years, unless he became a recruiter and got to leave every now and then to gather new members for the Watch but before that he would need to go through training before he could take the black and become a fully fledged brother of the Night’s Watch. Florien felt a change within him the moment he reached the Wall, he had felt slightly different since the moment his father had judged him and now he realised that he no longer cared about his own or the lives of others, everything would be different now that he going to take the black.
Most of the other new recruits to the Night’s Watch where younger than Florien and now experience in combat, he was better than them in every aspect and started to look down upon them just as he had been looked down upon by some of the people he had encountered throughout his life for being a bastard. When they worked on their swordplay it was common practice for the younger, weaker, recruits to try to gang up on Florien but they always failed to defeat him and where constantly battered by the knight that considered himself better than them. None of the other recruits where his friends but some of the higher ranked brothers of the Watch took a liking to Florien because he was a skilled knight that had the potential to go far within the Night’s Watch although the bastard took no joy in knowing that he was better than a handful of green boys that had never seen combat in their lives.
After their training was over and done with the new recruits to the Watch where to be told which section of the brotherhood they would enter; the rangers, the builders or the stewards. For his overall skill with a blade, riding ability and the survival skills he had developed during his training Florien became a ranger and swore an oath:
“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come.”
Word Count: 3371.
His childhood was not very eventful but it been good enough for a mere baseborn boy. His mother had been nothing more than a serving girl in a tavern owned by her father but Florien’s father was Lord Leyton Hightower. Early in his life the boy had always wondered why he did not live with his father like all of his friends did theirs but it soon became apparent that it was because the Lord did not have time for a bastard when he had trueborn sons to care for. His mother had often lied to Florien in attempts to hide the truth, she told him his father was too old to raise a young boy but he had been intelligent enough to see through her. Eventually he stopped caring about rather or not he got to spend time with Lord Leyton and grew to love spending time with his mother and grandfather at the tavern, he would clean whilst the regulars kept him entertained with stories of their travels.
When he grew into a strong teenaged lad Florien grew bored of spending his days in the tavern listening to the tales of travellers and yearned to have his own adventures. The bastard boy had only been sixteen when the Greyjoy rebellion had begun but he found he had some natural skill with a sword and, although he could not quite remember the exact circumstances in which it had happened, found himself sailing off to the Iron Islands to fight against the rebels that seemed to think they stood a chance against the armies of King Robert. The truth of the matter was they did not. The battle did not last very long but Florien found himself able to remember everything that had happened to him that day, he remembered the battle clearly.
“Through the breach men!” King Robert had shouted, he had led the attack on Pyke himself. It was a well known fact that he enjoyed war more so than anything else, even whores, beers and feasting.
Despite being barely more than a boy Florien had sprinted for the breach and was one of the first men through, swinging his sword in all directions to cut down the brave iron born men that where trying to kill him. He respected their willingness to die for Balon Greyjoy, whom they considered their king, but he did not quite understand why they did not simply surrender to the much greater force that had come to their island and killed many of their people. Perhaps it was bravery, perhaps it was stupidity. Florien had slain at least a dozen of his enemies when the fighting ceased and found himself standing beside some high Lord that he did not know, the man was covered in the blood of fallen enemies but he was smiling.
“What’s your name, boy?” he said in a cheerful tone of voice, addressing Florien.
“Florien, my lord, Florien Flowers,” the bastard replied.
“You fought bravely today, Florien, I’ll see to it that you’re knighted upon our return to the mainland,” the Lord said, before walking in the direction of the King and the other Lords that had taken part in the battle.
Florien Flowers had left Oldtown as nothing but a bastard boy but he returned as both a man and anointed knight. His mother and grandfather, who died but a week after his grandson returned from war, said they had never been more proud of him than they were on that day. Ser Florien, as he would be known for the rest of his life, had significantly raised his social standing when he was made a knight and this gave his father cause to acknowledge him as son but Lord Leyton did not legitimize him and thus he retained the name Flowers rather than becoming Ser Florien Hightower. He became his father’s most loyal knight and often acted as one of his personal guard but always addressed him as Lord Hightower as he could never adjust to calling the man his father after being without one for sixteen years of his life. He thought back, specifically to one conversation he had with his father.
“Florien,” Leyton Hightower said after they had broken their fast together one, “I’m sorry for not acknowledging you sooner...”
“It’s fine, my Lord, I understand,” Florien began, intending to say more but his father interrupted him half way his sentence.
“You don’t, you are my only baseborn son and I wanted to acknowledge you while you much younger but my lady wife said she was be insulted if I did so, due to you low standing but now, Florien, you are a knight. I considered legitimizing you but my lady would never allow it.”
It had been something Florien had dreamed of all of his life, his father had accepted him as his own and now he was saying that he had always wanted to do so but had been unable to until his bastard’s social standing had increased, but he was not sure how he felt about it. Deep inside he knew that had his father truly wanted to legitimize him he would do so regardless of what his wife had to say and had he wants to acknowledge him sooner he would. His father was making excuses but Florien did not care that it had taken sixteen years and a knighthood to establish any kind of relationship with his father, he was simply happy that he was finally getting to spend time with Lord Hightower, who trusted him enough to give him a place in his personal guard despite his age and inexperience. In truth, his father honoured him in more ways than he could ever have dreamed of.
During the years he had spent as a knight in his father’s service Florien had gone with him everywhere and watched over him. He had never had to save Lord Leyton Hightower’s life whilst he was in his personal guard but he had represented him well at tourneys and defended his honour on more than one occasion. Father and son did not exactly love one another at first but they grown closer with every year Florien spent living in his castle and serving in his guard, eventually the young knight was eating at his Father’s high table and was loved as a brother by all of his father’s trueborn children. When Florien looked back on this period of his life he knew it had been the best by far but things had gone downhill not long afterwards due to circumstances that were outside of his control, if he could turn back time he might have acted differently but, alas, he could not so and now he was a brother of the Night’s Watch.
One day whilst he was training in the yard of his father’s castle he received word that his mother had been assaulted in her tavern, the establishment within which Ser Florien had grown up and heard the stories that had inspired him to become a soldier and go to Pyke during the Greyjoy rebellion. He had immediately mounted a horse and ridden for the tavern to discover what terrible fate had befallen his mother, whom he loved more than anyone else in the world despite having spent the previous few years of his life in the service of his father. When he entered the tavern that he had practically been raised in he found that his mother had been beaten to the point that her own son barely recognised her and brutally raped, she was covered in blood, cuts and bruises. A crowd had formed outside of the tavern consisting of those that been inside when Florien’s mother had been attacked, the young knight stepped outside, angrier than he had ever been in his life, and began to question the bystanders.
“Who did this?” Florien said quietly. It surprised the people of the crowd as they had been expecting him to shout but that was not the knight’s way, he tended to get quiet and much more serious than loud like most people.
“Some young lordling, ser”, one of the men said, he was old and Florien recognised him from his childhood days spent in the tavern.
“Where did he go, Willis?” the knight remembered the man’s name, he was one of the travellers that had once shared his stories with Florien when he had been but a boy.
“He went in the direction of the citadel, Florien, said he was going to go find a maester for the scratches your mother gave his face,” Willis said, now addressing the knight by his name, “I tried to get close enough to stop him but he had armed guardsmen with him...”
“Those guardsmen won’t protect him from me,” the knight was already climbing on to his horse when those words passed through his lips.
Florien wheeled his horse around and kicked in his heels harder than ever before, his stallion went straight into a gallop through the streets of Oldtown. The smallfolk had the sense to move out of his path when they heard the horses hooves beating upon the hard ground, some of them shouted complaints at the knight that rode upon the steed but Florien did not care, all he wanted to do was find his mothers attacker and kill him regardless of his lordly status. Within fifteen of setting out from the tavern Ser Florien Flowers reached the citadel, pulled on his horses reins in order to slow it to a simple trot and began to scan the crowd for his target. It did not take long for him to spot a man of around twenty, dressed in fine armour, with a scratched face and two guardsmen flanking him, just as Willis said he would have. The lordling’s protectors definitely looked more threatening than the man himself which didn’t surprise Florien the slightest.
Dressed in his fine plate armour which bore the sigil of House Hightower, just like his father’s other guards, Florien jumped from his horse and began to push his way through the crowd of people that lay between him and the man he wanted to kill. When he grew close to the guardsmen that flanked the lordling Florien drew his sword and allowed it to scrape along the side of his scabbard in order to alert his target to his presence, he did this because he knew there was no honour in killing the lordling or his guards whilst they had their back turned to him. All of the men turned to face Florien and drew their swords the moment they saw his, none of them intended to die that day but that would not be the case, when Florien thought back to the day he slew the lordling he knew he should have done it discreetly rather than giving the men a chance to defend themselves, the scene they had causes was what had led to his arrest.
“Who are you?” the lordling said in some ridiculous fancy accent.
“My name is Florien Flowers,” the knight began, “and I in—“
“You’re a bastard... a bastard directly addressing a Lord?” one of the guardsmen said, interrupting Florien and looking down upon him all in the same sentence.
“I am a bastard, yes, but I am also a knight and the acknowledged son of Lord Leyton Hightower,” Florien said.
“Oh, for goodness sake, what do you want? Can’t you see I’m injured?” the lord said, pointing to the scratches on his face, “and you should refer to me by my proper title, bastard.”
“Well, my lord,” Florien said mockingly, “I have come to kill you. You got those scars when you raped my mother.”
“Guards, slay him!” the young lord exclaimed.
Without another word both of the guardsmen advanced upon Florien but neither one of them was particularly skilled with a sword, the knight felt he could have taken them one at a time with ease but with both of them attacking him at the same time he struggled slightly. He deflected their strikes with relative ease but they were slowly driving him back when Florien decided that things had to change, he kicked one of the guardsmen in the knee and drove his blade through his chest when he fell. Now that it was one versus one it became extremely easy for the knight to win the battle, the guardsman swung downwards at him but Florien was able to dodge causing the guardsman’s sword to become lodged in the dirt. Whilst he was trying to pull it out Hightower’s bastard was able to cleave off his left arm, the guardsman would either flee to the citadel with hopes of being healed by a maester or he would bleed to death. Florien advanced upon the lord once again.
“Mercy, please, show me mercy,” the lord said but he did not drop his sword.
“You didn’t show my mother mercy when you beat her... or when you raped her,” Ser Florien said, taking the man’s head off with one swing of his sword.
“Halt!” a voice shouted, “Drop your weapon!”
Florien turned and saw three of the Oldtown city watch rushing towards him. The knight did as he was told and allowed the men to arrest him, they knew who he was and told him he would be taken to a cell before being brought before his father to be judged. He sat alone in his cell for hours, stripped of both his armour and his sword, waiting for the city watchmen to come back in order to take him to his father. Ser Florien Flowers was not sure what to expect when his father judged him as, despite his son and one of his guardsmen, he had killed a lord and the punishment would, most likely be harsh. He would tell his father what had driven him to do what he had done, his mothers beating and rape, and, hopefully, Lord Leyton Hightower would show him some mercy despite the murders he had committed in front of many witnesses in the middle of Oldtown. Lord Hightower respected his son for his years of service but he had to up hold the law. The city watchmen came and collected him and took him to his father.
“Florien,” Lord Leyton said, “you’ve disappointed me.”
“Father... the man beat and raped my mother.”
“Even so,” his father said, “You kill three men, even if they were not innocent, and you will be punished for your actions. I will, however, give you a choice. You will either be executed via beheading or you will take the black and spend the rest of your days serving in the Night’s Watch”.
“I’ll go the Wall,” Florien said, he would rather spend years upon the Wall than be executed on his father’s orders and die in his twenties.
“You are my son, Florien, and you have served me well for many years but I must up hold the King’s Justice. All I can do is to allow you to keep your knightly title.”
Only a day after being judged and sentenced Florien and two of the knights he had served with in his father’s guard began the journey north to the Wall. The guards where there for two reasons; to help Florien defend himself should be attacked and to be sure he went to the Night’s Watch rather than simply going to a northern town and living there instead of taking his punishment. The journey to the Wall was long but it was not particularly hard, they were able to stop at several towns and holdfasts to rest on their way north, but they did encounter one or two problems including a group of bandits that had spotted their armour and decided that they would try to rob them and take their equipment and provisions. The brief had not gone well and the three knights had left six dead bandits dead on the Kings Road and continued on their journey, Florien would be the only one not to return to Oldtown
.
“Well, Ser Florien...” one of the knights that he had served began, “It was very good working with you.”
“Likewise,” said the other.
“You honour me,” Florien said, although he did sound too happy. Who would en route to the Wall?
“We’ve discussed it and, um... we’d be willing to set you free.”
“No. I may have committed murder but I am still a knight and I still have my honour,” despite his words, Florien did not feel very honourable. He felt as though he was dying on the inside, his laugh had fallen apart and he did not know what to expect when he reached the Wall and took the black.
“Okay...,” one of his fellow knights said, he didn’t seem to understand why Florien did not want to go free and live a new life rather than going to the Wall and never would.
After riding for a few days, with a few stops along the way, Ser Florien Flowers and his escorts finally reached the Wall. His fellow knights stayed for two nights rest and a few hot meals before they left but Florien would be there for the rest of his life, which could be for any number of years, unless he became a recruiter and got to leave every now and then to gather new members for the Watch but before that he would need to go through training before he could take the black and become a fully fledged brother of the Night’s Watch. Florien felt a change within him the moment he reached the Wall, he had felt slightly different since the moment his father had judged him and now he realised that he no longer cared about his own or the lives of others, everything would be different now that he going to take the black.
Most of the other new recruits to the Night’s Watch where younger than Florien and now experience in combat, he was better than them in every aspect and started to look down upon them just as he had been looked down upon by some of the people he had encountered throughout his life for being a bastard. When they worked on their swordplay it was common practice for the younger, weaker, recruits to try to gang up on Florien but they always failed to defeat him and where constantly battered by the knight that considered himself better than them. None of the other recruits where his friends but some of the higher ranked brothers of the Watch took a liking to Florien because he was a skilled knight that had the potential to go far within the Night’s Watch although the bastard took no joy in knowing that he was better than a handful of green boys that had never seen combat in their lives.
After their training was over and done with the new recruits to the Watch where to be told which section of the brotherhood they would enter; the rangers, the builders or the stewards. For his overall skill with a blade, riding ability and the survival skills he had developed during his training Florien became a ranger and swore an oath:
“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all nights to come.”
Word Count: 3371.
