Well, this appeared in my mind a few months ago as I browsed through the various Elseworlds. It took a bit of planning for even trying to start writing something down, but I can say that I'm satisfied with the results till now.
So, I'm not going to spoiler much for you, but I can give you a few hints to exactly what makes this AU... No, this is a real Elseworld. Just think about the nickname given to the Batman, more popularly by the latest movie: The Dark Knight. Before being a synonim of Batman, it has always been the name by which many figures in arturian, middle-ages stories have gone by. From there... This came out. Enjoy these first pages and hope you come back for more.
Anno Domini 1131, sixteenth day of November
I have never been one to keep a diarium or 'diary', as today is it most often called. I'm not that far into the years that my memory has begun to fail me, and I'm not that sentimental as to daily write of my thoughts and reminisce about them with but a single tear falling from my eyes.
Indeed, it's not my memories I will write, it is not my days I will chronicle. These diaries, these stories, are about the young boy of the family I've been in service of for many years now. Such a task is usually for holy men, but I feel the need for the story to be told by a more personal and less distant point of view.
The first years in the life of young lord Bruce have been pretty far normal... As normal the upbringing of the scion of such a family can be. He showed curiosity, smarts and an interest for the family sword and books of epics. All things an eight years old is entitled to. Loved by his parents, living the life of a prince. The very portrait of happiness.
All of this changed, was crushed forever, the day before I put the first stroke of ink to these pages.
ô... M...ö One would expect , as theatrical codes deem it, for a child witnessing such a scene to shout out in grief, desperation, horror. To do it once is understandable, but twice in such a short time?
The day had all started innocently, their usual private picnic in their favourite meadow, a few hundred meters from the mansion. They never brought guards with them for privacy and also because no one had ever thought that someone could possibly think of harming the regent family.
King Thomas would later on pass in history books as the philanthropic king. An expert in the healing arts, he had the habit of spending a day a week in the city's hospital to help the ill and the needy. Queen Martha was famous in more than their own reign for her grace and beauty, both in appearance and in the way she spoke, she was a loving queen and mother.
Who in their own mind would ever harbour ill feelings against such a family? No one, obviously. The danger of assassins was almost non-existent. It was the desperate they didn't consider. The bandit that attacked them in the meadow was no knight, no assassin, he was just a fairly well built tuggish man, dressed in rags and holding a very big sword, which he put to good use.
King of Wayne always carried around the family sword, but in his hands was more an ornament, a symbol of power and heritage than an actual weapon. He had hardly ever learned to fight in his life, and when the thug's blade pierced his stomach the young prince screamed.
When his mother was cut down next as she tried to protect the prone, bleeding form of her husband, though, not a coherent sound got out of his mouth. He just watched helplessly as the thug kicked his mother's body off his father's one and proceeded to rob them of their riches, taking last the family sword.
The bandit spared the young boy just a small glance before leaving him, alone, kneeling in a puddle of blood on grass, between their still warm bodies. That's how the guards found him when they came to search for them. His mind broke, beyond grief and sorrow.
The child has been cleaned up and he has eaten, but ever since, he has not uttered a word, and I fear the worse is yet to come. Him being eight years old and the only heir to the throne and what the killing of the two regents will signify to the reign will only put his life in turmoil and danger. I fear for his...
ôHuh?ö The servant stopped writing upon the pages of the blank book as he heard something, like a whisper, coming from the young prince's room. He closed the heavy tome and put it back in its hiding place before slowly approaching the room. The whisper became clearer and clearer the more he approached the slightly open door. He slowly put his eye to the fissure and found the prince, tears to his eyes, hands joined in prayer.
ôAnd as such... As such, I swear...ö The servant had expected the boy to be praying for his parent's soul, or for their guidance in the troubled times that would befall him. Instead, he found himself witnessing an oath. ôI swear to rid this kingdom... Of the evil that took away my parents... Of the criminals, the madmen... Even if it takes all of my life... This I swear.ö
Alfred Pennyworth had been a servant for the royal family for half of his life, and as such he had been witness to many ceremonies that took place in the halls of the castle, most of which involved knights, most of which involved an oath, and yet, he had never heard such an heartfelt one as the words he had just heard the young prince Bruce speak in the darkness of his room in their mansion on the outskirts of the capital, their summer residency.
Anno Domini 1132, third day of January
A few days after the turn of the new year, the many questions regarding the regency got solved by the simple discovery of a document. A document that had been written by the king himself and entrusted to sister Leslie, the head healer of the hospital and one of the people the king trusted and confided in the most.
The document was a will of sort that detailed what was to be done in the case of the king's early death, before his son was old enough to succeed him. The first part was a letter to the young prince, the rest of it entrusted the reign to the guidance of Lucius Fox, the king's advisor. I would have expected as much, but imagine my surprise when another part of the will made me the guardian of the prince.
Many nobles are of course not happy about this, and I have no doubt that there will be repercussions.
Anno Domini 1134, seventeenth day of March
It pains my heart to see the state of disarray the kingdom has fallen into after the death of the king and the queen. When news of their death reached the ears of the people, it had so many different effects... But the most prominent one was an alarming increase in crime rate. Many people probably told themselves that if not even kings are safe, they could get away with many things.
There's also the effect that with no regent and the consequent squabbles over the throne the people have lost faith in their rulers. Lucius and the constables are trying hard to keep peace, but they are barely slowing down the growth of chaos.
As for my young prince, ever since that day, the day of the oath, he has been engorging himself in various activities. First and foremost, he hasn't been neglecting the sword, unlike his father. He's too young to properly wield a real one, but he has been learning the proper forms, at least the ones the guards are willing to teach an eleven years old.
With not many willing teachers, young prince Bruce spends most of his time among tomes of lore, trying to acquire as much knowledge as possible on various subjects, and he's quickly progressing through the castle's library. I wonder what he will do when he will not be able to learn anything else in here.
Anno Domini 1135, twenty-third day of June
The question that I recorded on these pages more than an year ago has been answered. Last evening I was retiring into my private room only to find the young prince sitting in my chair, and reading this very diary.
ôMy lord! What...ö
ôYou knew all this time...ö The young prince simply said, stopping the servant dead in its tracks. ôThat's why you always helped me persuade the guards to teach me the sword, and with my researches in the library... Even if the subjects were strange.ö
ô... Well, I guess that anyone else would have been startled if you asked them if they could fetch the book on poisons from the highest shelf.ö Alfred answered with a sigh, settling down on his bed while the young Bruce closed the journal and put it back in its hiding place. ôSo... Does my activity of keeping a journal bother you, my lord?ö
ôWell... Only, try to hide it better. I found it, someone else could... Well, you will probably bring it with you.ö That was when Alfred got confused. ôAlfred... I need your help. I learned everything there was to learn here.ö
ôThat would inquire that you wish to travel outside the walls of this castle, prince Bruce... And as your guardian, that will not happen unless I give you my permit or go travelling with you. Is that right?ö Bruce just nodded and then presented his guardian and servant a map. A world map, with many writings and lines. It was a travel plan.
ôI have already detailed everything. I know where, how, when... But...ö It was the first time Alfred had ever seen a pleading look coming from the young prince. ôI can't do this without your help, Alfred... I need more than a guardian or a servant, right now... Right now I need a friend.ö
ô... And I guess an idea for justifying just a trip, right?ö Alfred put a hand to his chin and smiled. ôWell, I think I can arrange that...ö
-Breakline-
ôHow could anyone start a fire in the prince's room without anyone noticing?ö
ôThat's exactly what worries me the most, Lucius.ö Alfred commented, making a mental note of not using pine wood for starting fires ever again. It caught fire ever so slowly. ôWe have been expecting this a long time, but for no one to notice the perpetrator... That's disturbing.ö
ô... You make it sound like it could have been someone inside the castle.ö The dark skinned counselor said, leaning his chin on an open palm.
ôCan I think of anything else?ö The servant shook his head from side to side. ôIt is clear that it is no longer safe for the prince in here.ö
ôAnd what do you suggest we do, then? Old soldier?ö The two had no qualms with speaking clearly to each other. They had both served in war under Bruce's grandfather, old king Patrick, and Alfred had been a field healer and Lucius' superior.
ôWell... I have a few suggestions.ö
Anno Domini 1139, first day of August
These last four years have been meaningful both to me and to my ward. He has been sating his thirst for knowledge and training, while I have been gifted with it. I always thought of the young prince as a particularly smart person, but the more I see of him, the more I realize that was just the surface ripples.
The young sir has detailed this trip so that he would meet masters of various disciplines and arts. Some more common like swordsmanship and riding, others more dark and obscure like poison-making and some even forbidden, like magic. Yes, we have searched out a mage only to find out that the young sir has no talent for the occult arts, but we still got something out of it as I've already detailed in this journal in a previous entry.
And each master, each discipline, he absorbs each teaching at great speed, doing in months what would take lesser men years. I don't know if it's because of his determination or if young prince Bruce is just that naturally gifted. It's quite... Intimidating.
Anno domini 1142, nineteenth day of February
The training trip is on its last year of life. In an year, Bruce will be twenty, and that's the minimum age for a regent to ascend to the throne. That's the amount of time he will have with which to decide what to do with all the skills he has acquired and which he will mature further in the years. It is clear to him that he will not be able to do anything more than his father and the constables do from a throne.
He would have to be more than a simple king or a guard, he said to me today. He would have to be more than a simple man, he would have to be a symbol, a myth, something that inspired fear into the hearts of those who would do evil. I then reminded him of a figure that fit most of the qualities he had described. We now have the idea. Remains to decide how to put it in motion.
Anno domini 1143, nineteenth day of February
We have been back in the capital for a week now, and as the preparatives for the coronation continue, me and the prince have come back to a very bleak capital and kingdom. The lords and major merchants have a faþade of tranquillity, but fill their houses and stores with armed guards. The common people have no such luxury, and day and night they live in constant fear of the now rampant criminal slice of population, and more turn to crime with each passing day to get by, forced by the famine that seems to have hit the kingdom in the last two years.
We doubted that most of them would be at the cathedral for the coronation, but the plan covered that too. In a day, the capital and the kingdom have been introduced to its two newest protectors. King Bruce of Wayne the First and...
ôHmm...ö It hadn't been a very good week. He hadn't managed to get any gold and as such, he hadn't managed to get much to eat and even less to drink. He was now emptying the leftover drops of wine from a waterskin he had found on the side of the road. ôRrrmph. Damn spoiled...ö
ôWhich way to the cathedral?ö
ôHuh?ö The bum raised his head only to realize that he had been really assorted in thinking or maybe those few drops had been very effective, because otherwise there would have been no way he could have not noticed such a figure approaching. ôThe... The cathedral?ö There was no reply. The stranger just kept on staring at him from behind his helmet. He swallowed and slowly raised his arm and pointed in the random direction of the cathedral. The figure just turned his head in that direction and pulled on the reins of his horse to make him run.
The bum got back on his feet in a flash, swallowing again. ô... Oh, god. Don't tell me our new king will reign for less of a day.ö
-Breakline-
ôWe are here to crown King Bruce of of Wayne the First. So we ask, god our witness, what do you swear?ö The moment was, as always, solemn. In the inside of the cathedral, all the lords of the city and a few wealthy merchants observed as the cardinal held the crown over the kneeling young prince's head, waiting for him to make his traditional vow, as a choir chanted in a low voice a hymn in latin. Aids to the newly crowned regent were Alfred and Lucius fox, his guardian and counselor.
ôWith god as my witness, this I swear. I will wear this crown to command and to protect, the people and the reign.ö The prince said in a low, proud voice.
ôThen, let this crown be a symbol of your oath and your heritage.ö The cardinal slowly leaned down the jeweled gold crown on the dark hair, placing it perfectly in place. ôNow raise, King Bruce of Wayne the First.ö
The hymn raised in volume and solemnity as the new king complied and raised. His aids then quickly acted their roles: the one on his right handed him the royal sceptre, a golden staff with a big sapphire on its top; the one of his left latched on his shoulders and around his neck with a gold cord a purple-red mantle. He lowered his arms and then turned around, beginning to walk towards the exit of the cathedral.
The cardinal remembered when king Thomas had made the same oath, as he walked out of the cathedral just as his son was doing. The king usually showed himself to the people after the crowning. In years past crowds gathered around the cathedral even before the ceremony began, but he knew that times had changed.
That was why he was very surprised when the door opened and they let in the murmurs and high pitched voices of a large crowd coming from outside the cathedral. The lords, following the king and his aids aside were the first after the aforementioned people to notice that all the excitement wasn't because of the king, but of another figure that was standing in front of the steps.
There stood a knight all armed in black and grey harness, his face completely hidden by his helmet, the hole for the eyes glowing with white light visible even in that bright clear morning. A yellow engraving figured on the chest piece, in the shape of a winged creature with pointed horns, or ears, if the small metal ones adorning the helmet were any indication. A black cape fell down and covered his back, and a similarly coloured steed stood a few feet behind him.
Though, while most of the people in the crowd were focused on the figure of the knight, the King, the servant and the advisor were showing shock and surprise, and their eyes were drawn and stuck to the blade in the knight's hand. ôMy family blade...ö The disappearance of the weapon the day of the previous regents' murder had been kept a secret from almost everyone but who needed to know. The king narrowed his eyes at the knight. ôWhere did you find it?! Answer me!ö
ô... With god as my witness...ö Then the knight spoke, in a grave, deep voice as he raised the arm holding the sword in front of his chest, holding it upside in front of his face. ôThis I swear. I will wield this blade to serve and to protect the innocent and to punish those who wish to do evil.ö The knight made his own oath. Then, he turned the blade upside down, grabbed it with both hands and slammed it into the ground.
As he did so, a cloud of black smoke exploded around him and his steed. When it dissipated, knight and horse had disappeared in thin air. All the witnesses were sporting similar expressions of shock. Alfred Pennyworth though, allowed himself to picture himself in his mind sporting a small smirk.
-Breakline-
While the newly appointed king and his advisor tried to calm down and come to a conclusion about the mysterious knight, Alfred Pennyworth climbed the stairs that led to the roof of one of the castle's towers, a small sack in his right hand. He opened the door and closed it right behind her.
ôA masterful performance, young lady.ö Alfred said not even turning around, as he knew that there was someone standing to his left. ôThe boon is fulfilled, and this is payment for those components we asked you for.ö
ôIt was my pleasure, but, are you sure?ö A feminine hand coming out of a long, flowing purple robe snatched the satched out of the air when Alfred threw it. She tied it around her belt and then moved back a lock of long raven hair behind her left ear. ôUsing a boon from a magician for something like this? Not to be boast, but a pretty powerful one as well...ö
ôThis is what young... Well, King Bruce desired, miss Zatanna.ö Alfred turned around to meet the visage of the magician, that for all intent and purpose he should have been fleeing from while calling for help or at least the inquisitors. At least according to common knowledge and the law. ôWith this, no one will be able to tie together the two, having seen them in the same place in broad daylight, and the Dark Knight will be able to start his crusade.ö
ôHm. Still sounds like a waste of a boon to me... Changing subjects, how do proceed your studies in the art?ö Zatanna asked, earning a satisfied smile from the older man.
ôQuite well. I did ask to make a man in armour move that nimbly for a reason, miss Zatanna. I am quite content in my aptitude for Enchantment and Healing.ö He answered, slowly raising his head to the clear sky. ôIt's like all it's connected... Like I was born for the sole reason of being the king's ally.ö
ôMeaning that you were born to make him armours and weapons and patch him up. Quite a living you have in front of you, Alfred. With your talents, you could be so much more...ö Zatanna sighed, shaking her head from side to side, long dark locks swaying with the motion. ôYou have no idea how much some people would pay for your services, in other realms. You could become one of the more renowned Enchanters and a rich man, while in your King's reign, mages have to hide or flee.ö
ôAn unjust law, I am aware, but I am confident that it's a matter my liege will fix in time. I am aware that were I to leave this reign, I would receive a more... Benevolent treatment, but my place is by my king's side.ö Alfred answered without missing a beat, and the magician rolled her eyes.
ôAnswered like a true servant, albeit a willing one. Oh, well... Indulge me in one last curiosity, before I depart.ö Zatanna asked, as she went again through all the details of the armour she had been shown so that she could replicate them in the illusion. ôWhat's with... The crest? And the additions to the helmet. I don't remember any story about a dark knight with... Bat ears.ö
ôThat is a personal addition of my liege. You see, while most people fear the Dark Knight in their youth, he never did. Though, he fears bats, as you can remember.ö Zatanna chuckled, remembering the incident with guano. ôHe added his own fear to the one of the masses.ö
ôWhat a twisted way of choosing a crest for an armour... Oh, well.ö The woman whispered something and her visage started to disappear from sight. ôIn case you change your idea, you know how to contact me.ö
ôIndeed I do, miss Zatanna. Live long and prosper.ö
ô... I think I heard that somewhere else before.ö With those last words, the young mage disappeared from sight, leaving behind only empty air and a smiling Alfred.
The coronation ceremony dragged long into the night, but not too long. Not for my King. That same night, the Dark Knight made h...
ôAlfred?ö He stopped the flow of magic going through his arms and hands, his focus broken by the new presence. ôDid I interrupt something important?ö
ôNot at all, sir. I was just enchanting my diaries.ö The older man got up from his seat and turned around, meeting his king with a slight bow and a perpetual smile. ôWhile the ones so that we are the only ones allowed to read them are useful, I thought it was time to enchant them so that they can resist time.ö
ôTrue. It amazes me the care with which you treat them.ö The man removed the helmet of his armour, settling it on the nearby marble on which the whole protective garment always was strapped when the king wasn't donning it. ôYou need a hand?ö The dark haired man asked, his voice no longer distorted by the helmet's enchantment.
ôSir, as you are well aware, the most you could do would be preparing the reagents, and that is not such a hard task that I need a crutch. Not yet.ö The servant chuckled while he observed how the grown man in front of him allowed himself a small smile. Those were getting rarer and rarer with the years, as rare as right after the tragedy that scarred a young prince for life.
He then allowed his eyes to wander briefly over their den, their hideout. Once a natural cave containing just emptiness and a small lake connected to the surface by an underground river that ended up surfacing in a cave on a mountain a couple miles away from the capital, it had been furnished and then filled with trophies and mementos of a secret life that had changed a reign and many people over the years.
An enormous coin. A sceptre with an emerald in the shape of a punctuation sign. A series of crystal cases containing various armours the king had donned over the years. A solitary case containing a suit of light armour that stood out for its bright colours. A giant card with the unusually demonic visage of a jester. Many more. Each one symbolized something, be it passage of time, a victory... A tragedy.
ôI know... I think I will go lie down. It was a quiet night.ö The king finished removing all the metallic parts of his armour, leaving him in just the suit he wore underneath, which he would remove as he came upon the task of washing himself. ôGood night, Alfred. Do not stay up too much.ö
ôIf I had a gold piece...ö Alfred joked and then returned to the task at hand, meticulously covering his hands in another batch of the pulverized reagents resting in a bowl by his side before channelling magical power to them and slowly covering each page of the books. As he flipped through the entries, his eyes came to rest upon maybe one of the most significant ones, dated little more than an year after the appearance of the Dark Knight...
This day my liege has met with Constable Gordon, one of the allies the Dark Knight has been able to make in his tenure as the obscure protector of this reign, upon the scene of a new crime, which details seem to have shaken even him. It all started when...
So, I'm not going to spoiler much for you, but I can give you a few hints to exactly what makes this AU... No, this is a real Elseworld. Just think about the nickname given to the Batman, more popularly by the latest movie: The Dark Knight. Before being a synonim of Batman, it has always been the name by which many figures in arturian, middle-ages stories have gone by. From there... This came out. Enjoy these first pages and hope you come back for more.
Anno Domini 1131, sixteenth day of November
I have never been one to keep a diarium or 'diary', as today is it most often called. I'm not that far into the years that my memory has begun to fail me, and I'm not that sentimental as to daily write of my thoughts and reminisce about them with but a single tear falling from my eyes.
Indeed, it's not my memories I will write, it is not my days I will chronicle. These diaries, these stories, are about the young boy of the family I've been in service of for many years now. Such a task is usually for holy men, but I feel the need for the story to be told by a more personal and less distant point of view.
The first years in the life of young lord Bruce have been pretty far normal... As normal the upbringing of the scion of such a family can be. He showed curiosity, smarts and an interest for the family sword and books of epics. All things an eight years old is entitled to. Loved by his parents, living the life of a prince. The very portrait of happiness.
All of this changed, was crushed forever, the day before I put the first stroke of ink to these pages.
ô... M...ö One would expect , as theatrical codes deem it, for a child witnessing such a scene to shout out in grief, desperation, horror. To do it once is understandable, but twice in such a short time?
The day had all started innocently, their usual private picnic in their favourite meadow, a few hundred meters from the mansion. They never brought guards with them for privacy and also because no one had ever thought that someone could possibly think of harming the regent family.
King Thomas would later on pass in history books as the philanthropic king. An expert in the healing arts, he had the habit of spending a day a week in the city's hospital to help the ill and the needy. Queen Martha was famous in more than their own reign for her grace and beauty, both in appearance and in the way she spoke, she was a loving queen and mother.
Who in their own mind would ever harbour ill feelings against such a family? No one, obviously. The danger of assassins was almost non-existent. It was the desperate they didn't consider. The bandit that attacked them in the meadow was no knight, no assassin, he was just a fairly well built tuggish man, dressed in rags and holding a very big sword, which he put to good use.
King of Wayne always carried around the family sword, but in his hands was more an ornament, a symbol of power and heritage than an actual weapon. He had hardly ever learned to fight in his life, and when the thug's blade pierced his stomach the young prince screamed.
When his mother was cut down next as she tried to protect the prone, bleeding form of her husband, though, not a coherent sound got out of his mouth. He just watched helplessly as the thug kicked his mother's body off his father's one and proceeded to rob them of their riches, taking last the family sword.
The bandit spared the young boy just a small glance before leaving him, alone, kneeling in a puddle of blood on grass, between their still warm bodies. That's how the guards found him when they came to search for them. His mind broke, beyond grief and sorrow.
The child has been cleaned up and he has eaten, but ever since, he has not uttered a word, and I fear the worse is yet to come. Him being eight years old and the only heir to the throne and what the killing of the two regents will signify to the reign will only put his life in turmoil and danger. I fear for his...
ôHuh?ö The servant stopped writing upon the pages of the blank book as he heard something, like a whisper, coming from the young prince's room. He closed the heavy tome and put it back in its hiding place before slowly approaching the room. The whisper became clearer and clearer the more he approached the slightly open door. He slowly put his eye to the fissure and found the prince, tears to his eyes, hands joined in prayer.
ôAnd as such... As such, I swear...ö The servant had expected the boy to be praying for his parent's soul, or for their guidance in the troubled times that would befall him. Instead, he found himself witnessing an oath. ôI swear to rid this kingdom... Of the evil that took away my parents... Of the criminals, the madmen... Even if it takes all of my life... This I swear.ö
Alfred Pennyworth had been a servant for the royal family for half of his life, and as such he had been witness to many ceremonies that took place in the halls of the castle, most of which involved knights, most of which involved an oath, and yet, he had never heard such an heartfelt one as the words he had just heard the young prince Bruce speak in the darkness of his room in their mansion on the outskirts of the capital, their summer residency.
Anno Domini 1132, third day of January
A few days after the turn of the new year, the many questions regarding the regency got solved by the simple discovery of a document. A document that had been written by the king himself and entrusted to sister Leslie, the head healer of the hospital and one of the people the king trusted and confided in the most.
The document was a will of sort that detailed what was to be done in the case of the king's early death, before his son was old enough to succeed him. The first part was a letter to the young prince, the rest of it entrusted the reign to the guidance of Lucius Fox, the king's advisor. I would have expected as much, but imagine my surprise when another part of the will made me the guardian of the prince.
Many nobles are of course not happy about this, and I have no doubt that there will be repercussions.
Anno Domini 1134, seventeenth day of March
It pains my heart to see the state of disarray the kingdom has fallen into after the death of the king and the queen. When news of their death reached the ears of the people, it had so many different effects... But the most prominent one was an alarming increase in crime rate. Many people probably told themselves that if not even kings are safe, they could get away with many things.
There's also the effect that with no regent and the consequent squabbles over the throne the people have lost faith in their rulers. Lucius and the constables are trying hard to keep peace, but they are barely slowing down the growth of chaos.
As for my young prince, ever since that day, the day of the oath, he has been engorging himself in various activities. First and foremost, he hasn't been neglecting the sword, unlike his father. He's too young to properly wield a real one, but he has been learning the proper forms, at least the ones the guards are willing to teach an eleven years old.
With not many willing teachers, young prince Bruce spends most of his time among tomes of lore, trying to acquire as much knowledge as possible on various subjects, and he's quickly progressing through the castle's library. I wonder what he will do when he will not be able to learn anything else in here.
Anno Domini 1135, twenty-third day of June
The question that I recorded on these pages more than an year ago has been answered. Last evening I was retiring into my private room only to find the young prince sitting in my chair, and reading this very diary.
ôMy lord! What...ö
ôYou knew all this time...ö The young prince simply said, stopping the servant dead in its tracks. ôThat's why you always helped me persuade the guards to teach me the sword, and with my researches in the library... Even if the subjects were strange.ö
ô... Well, I guess that anyone else would have been startled if you asked them if they could fetch the book on poisons from the highest shelf.ö Alfred answered with a sigh, settling down on his bed while the young Bruce closed the journal and put it back in its hiding place. ôSo... Does my activity of keeping a journal bother you, my lord?ö
ôWell... Only, try to hide it better. I found it, someone else could... Well, you will probably bring it with you.ö That was when Alfred got confused. ôAlfred... I need your help. I learned everything there was to learn here.ö
ôThat would inquire that you wish to travel outside the walls of this castle, prince Bruce... And as your guardian, that will not happen unless I give you my permit or go travelling with you. Is that right?ö Bruce just nodded and then presented his guardian and servant a map. A world map, with many writings and lines. It was a travel plan.
ôI have already detailed everything. I know where, how, when... But...ö It was the first time Alfred had ever seen a pleading look coming from the young prince. ôI can't do this without your help, Alfred... I need more than a guardian or a servant, right now... Right now I need a friend.ö
ô... And I guess an idea for justifying just a trip, right?ö Alfred put a hand to his chin and smiled. ôWell, I think I can arrange that...ö
-Breakline-
ôHow could anyone start a fire in the prince's room without anyone noticing?ö
ôThat's exactly what worries me the most, Lucius.ö Alfred commented, making a mental note of not using pine wood for starting fires ever again. It caught fire ever so slowly. ôWe have been expecting this a long time, but for no one to notice the perpetrator... That's disturbing.ö
ô... You make it sound like it could have been someone inside the castle.ö The dark skinned counselor said, leaning his chin on an open palm.
ôCan I think of anything else?ö The servant shook his head from side to side. ôIt is clear that it is no longer safe for the prince in here.ö
ôAnd what do you suggest we do, then? Old soldier?ö The two had no qualms with speaking clearly to each other. They had both served in war under Bruce's grandfather, old king Patrick, and Alfred had been a field healer and Lucius' superior.
ôWell... I have a few suggestions.ö
Anno Domini 1139, first day of August
These last four years have been meaningful both to me and to my ward. He has been sating his thirst for knowledge and training, while I have been gifted with it. I always thought of the young prince as a particularly smart person, but the more I see of him, the more I realize that was just the surface ripples.
The young sir has detailed this trip so that he would meet masters of various disciplines and arts. Some more common like swordsmanship and riding, others more dark and obscure like poison-making and some even forbidden, like magic. Yes, we have searched out a mage only to find out that the young sir has no talent for the occult arts, but we still got something out of it as I've already detailed in this journal in a previous entry.
And each master, each discipline, he absorbs each teaching at great speed, doing in months what would take lesser men years. I don't know if it's because of his determination or if young prince Bruce is just that naturally gifted. It's quite... Intimidating.
Anno domini 1142, nineteenth day of February
The training trip is on its last year of life. In an year, Bruce will be twenty, and that's the minimum age for a regent to ascend to the throne. That's the amount of time he will have with which to decide what to do with all the skills he has acquired and which he will mature further in the years. It is clear to him that he will not be able to do anything more than his father and the constables do from a throne.
He would have to be more than a simple king or a guard, he said to me today. He would have to be more than a simple man, he would have to be a symbol, a myth, something that inspired fear into the hearts of those who would do evil. I then reminded him of a figure that fit most of the qualities he had described. We now have the idea. Remains to decide how to put it in motion.
Anno domini 1143, nineteenth day of February
We have been back in the capital for a week now, and as the preparatives for the coronation continue, me and the prince have come back to a very bleak capital and kingdom. The lords and major merchants have a faþade of tranquillity, but fill their houses and stores with armed guards. The common people have no such luxury, and day and night they live in constant fear of the now rampant criminal slice of population, and more turn to crime with each passing day to get by, forced by the famine that seems to have hit the kingdom in the last two years.
We doubted that most of them would be at the cathedral for the coronation, but the plan covered that too. In a day, the capital and the kingdom have been introduced to its two newest protectors. King Bruce of Wayne the First and...
ôHmm...ö It hadn't been a very good week. He hadn't managed to get any gold and as such, he hadn't managed to get much to eat and even less to drink. He was now emptying the leftover drops of wine from a waterskin he had found on the side of the road. ôRrrmph. Damn spoiled...ö
ôWhich way to the cathedral?ö
ôHuh?ö The bum raised his head only to realize that he had been really assorted in thinking or maybe those few drops had been very effective, because otherwise there would have been no way he could have not noticed such a figure approaching. ôThe... The cathedral?ö There was no reply. The stranger just kept on staring at him from behind his helmet. He swallowed and slowly raised his arm and pointed in the random direction of the cathedral. The figure just turned his head in that direction and pulled on the reins of his horse to make him run.
The bum got back on his feet in a flash, swallowing again. ô... Oh, god. Don't tell me our new king will reign for less of a day.ö
-Breakline-
ôWe are here to crown King Bruce of of Wayne the First. So we ask, god our witness, what do you swear?ö The moment was, as always, solemn. In the inside of the cathedral, all the lords of the city and a few wealthy merchants observed as the cardinal held the crown over the kneeling young prince's head, waiting for him to make his traditional vow, as a choir chanted in a low voice a hymn in latin. Aids to the newly crowned regent were Alfred and Lucius fox, his guardian and counselor.
ôWith god as my witness, this I swear. I will wear this crown to command and to protect, the people and the reign.ö The prince said in a low, proud voice.
ôThen, let this crown be a symbol of your oath and your heritage.ö The cardinal slowly leaned down the jeweled gold crown on the dark hair, placing it perfectly in place. ôNow raise, King Bruce of Wayne the First.ö
The hymn raised in volume and solemnity as the new king complied and raised. His aids then quickly acted their roles: the one on his right handed him the royal sceptre, a golden staff with a big sapphire on its top; the one of his left latched on his shoulders and around his neck with a gold cord a purple-red mantle. He lowered his arms and then turned around, beginning to walk towards the exit of the cathedral.
The cardinal remembered when king Thomas had made the same oath, as he walked out of the cathedral just as his son was doing. The king usually showed himself to the people after the crowning. In years past crowds gathered around the cathedral even before the ceremony began, but he knew that times had changed.
That was why he was very surprised when the door opened and they let in the murmurs and high pitched voices of a large crowd coming from outside the cathedral. The lords, following the king and his aids aside were the first after the aforementioned people to notice that all the excitement wasn't because of the king, but of another figure that was standing in front of the steps.
There stood a knight all armed in black and grey harness, his face completely hidden by his helmet, the hole for the eyes glowing with white light visible even in that bright clear morning. A yellow engraving figured on the chest piece, in the shape of a winged creature with pointed horns, or ears, if the small metal ones adorning the helmet were any indication. A black cape fell down and covered his back, and a similarly coloured steed stood a few feet behind him.
Though, while most of the people in the crowd were focused on the figure of the knight, the King, the servant and the advisor were showing shock and surprise, and their eyes were drawn and stuck to the blade in the knight's hand. ôMy family blade...ö The disappearance of the weapon the day of the previous regents' murder had been kept a secret from almost everyone but who needed to know. The king narrowed his eyes at the knight. ôWhere did you find it?! Answer me!ö
ô... With god as my witness...ö Then the knight spoke, in a grave, deep voice as he raised the arm holding the sword in front of his chest, holding it upside in front of his face. ôThis I swear. I will wield this blade to serve and to protect the innocent and to punish those who wish to do evil.ö The knight made his own oath. Then, he turned the blade upside down, grabbed it with both hands and slammed it into the ground.
As he did so, a cloud of black smoke exploded around him and his steed. When it dissipated, knight and horse had disappeared in thin air. All the witnesses were sporting similar expressions of shock. Alfred Pennyworth though, allowed himself to picture himself in his mind sporting a small smirk.
-Breakline-
While the newly appointed king and his advisor tried to calm down and come to a conclusion about the mysterious knight, Alfred Pennyworth climbed the stairs that led to the roof of one of the castle's towers, a small sack in his right hand. He opened the door and closed it right behind her.
ôA masterful performance, young lady.ö Alfred said not even turning around, as he knew that there was someone standing to his left. ôThe boon is fulfilled, and this is payment for those components we asked you for.ö
ôIt was my pleasure, but, are you sure?ö A feminine hand coming out of a long, flowing purple robe snatched the satched out of the air when Alfred threw it. She tied it around her belt and then moved back a lock of long raven hair behind her left ear. ôUsing a boon from a magician for something like this? Not to be boast, but a pretty powerful one as well...ö
ôThis is what young... Well, King Bruce desired, miss Zatanna.ö Alfred turned around to meet the visage of the magician, that for all intent and purpose he should have been fleeing from while calling for help or at least the inquisitors. At least according to common knowledge and the law. ôWith this, no one will be able to tie together the two, having seen them in the same place in broad daylight, and the Dark Knight will be able to start his crusade.ö
ôHm. Still sounds like a waste of a boon to me... Changing subjects, how do proceed your studies in the art?ö Zatanna asked, earning a satisfied smile from the older man.
ôQuite well. I did ask to make a man in armour move that nimbly for a reason, miss Zatanna. I am quite content in my aptitude for Enchantment and Healing.ö He answered, slowly raising his head to the clear sky. ôIt's like all it's connected... Like I was born for the sole reason of being the king's ally.ö
ôMeaning that you were born to make him armours and weapons and patch him up. Quite a living you have in front of you, Alfred. With your talents, you could be so much more...ö Zatanna sighed, shaking her head from side to side, long dark locks swaying with the motion. ôYou have no idea how much some people would pay for your services, in other realms. You could become one of the more renowned Enchanters and a rich man, while in your King's reign, mages have to hide or flee.ö
ôAn unjust law, I am aware, but I am confident that it's a matter my liege will fix in time. I am aware that were I to leave this reign, I would receive a more... Benevolent treatment, but my place is by my king's side.ö Alfred answered without missing a beat, and the magician rolled her eyes.
ôAnswered like a true servant, albeit a willing one. Oh, well... Indulge me in one last curiosity, before I depart.ö Zatanna asked, as she went again through all the details of the armour she had been shown so that she could replicate them in the illusion. ôWhat's with... The crest? And the additions to the helmet. I don't remember any story about a dark knight with... Bat ears.ö
ôThat is a personal addition of my liege. You see, while most people fear the Dark Knight in their youth, he never did. Though, he fears bats, as you can remember.ö Zatanna chuckled, remembering the incident with guano. ôHe added his own fear to the one of the masses.ö
ôWhat a twisted way of choosing a crest for an armour... Oh, well.ö The woman whispered something and her visage started to disappear from sight. ôIn case you change your idea, you know how to contact me.ö
ôIndeed I do, miss Zatanna. Live long and prosper.ö
ô... I think I heard that somewhere else before.ö With those last words, the young mage disappeared from sight, leaving behind only empty air and a smiling Alfred.
The coronation ceremony dragged long into the night, but not too long. Not for my King. That same night, the Dark Knight made h...
ôAlfred?ö He stopped the flow of magic going through his arms and hands, his focus broken by the new presence. ôDid I interrupt something important?ö
ôNot at all, sir. I was just enchanting my diaries.ö The older man got up from his seat and turned around, meeting his king with a slight bow and a perpetual smile. ôWhile the ones so that we are the only ones allowed to read them are useful, I thought it was time to enchant them so that they can resist time.ö
ôTrue. It amazes me the care with which you treat them.ö The man removed the helmet of his armour, settling it on the nearby marble on which the whole protective garment always was strapped when the king wasn't donning it. ôYou need a hand?ö The dark haired man asked, his voice no longer distorted by the helmet's enchantment.
ôSir, as you are well aware, the most you could do would be preparing the reagents, and that is not such a hard task that I need a crutch. Not yet.ö The servant chuckled while he observed how the grown man in front of him allowed himself a small smile. Those were getting rarer and rarer with the years, as rare as right after the tragedy that scarred a young prince for life.
He then allowed his eyes to wander briefly over their den, their hideout. Once a natural cave containing just emptiness and a small lake connected to the surface by an underground river that ended up surfacing in a cave on a mountain a couple miles away from the capital, it had been furnished and then filled with trophies and mementos of a secret life that had changed a reign and many people over the years.
An enormous coin. A sceptre with an emerald in the shape of a punctuation sign. A series of crystal cases containing various armours the king had donned over the years. A solitary case containing a suit of light armour that stood out for its bright colours. A giant card with the unusually demonic visage of a jester. Many more. Each one symbolized something, be it passage of time, a victory... A tragedy.
ôI know... I think I will go lie down. It was a quiet night.ö The king finished removing all the metallic parts of his armour, leaving him in just the suit he wore underneath, which he would remove as he came upon the task of washing himself. ôGood night, Alfred. Do not stay up too much.ö
ôIf I had a gold piece...ö Alfred joked and then returned to the task at hand, meticulously covering his hands in another batch of the pulverized reagents resting in a bowl by his side before channelling magical power to them and slowly covering each page of the books. As he flipped through the entries, his eyes came to rest upon maybe one of the most significant ones, dated little more than an year after the appearance of the Dark Knight...
This day my liege has met with Constable Gordon, one of the allies the Dark Knight has been able to make in his tenure as the obscure protector of this reign, upon the scene of a new crime, which details seem to have shaken even him. It all started when...