⚜️ You Can Call Me Sir Alexander ⚜️ (Alex Turner)

♤ Part 1 ♤

Hazel ran to the top of the hill behind his father's tavern. The excitement among the patrons this afternoon told her that day was the day. She stood, leaning against a tree, watching the men of the IV Legion swarming like ants, setting camp.
She heard about the troops movements from the chatter of the customers, eavesdropping curiously while sweeping the floor or cleaning the tables.

Hazel learned that Edward III's outpost would station a few miles from the village, and the anticipation made her flush with excitement. This was a small group of chosen ones, the very best, according to the drunkards blabbering behind her father's counter.
These were real knights.
She heard many stories that ignited her imagination and she saw an illustration once, which never left her mind. But Hazel had never seen a knight in person.

She watched them from afar, daydreaming about some of them riding their majestic horses into town and stopping at the tavern. You doddypoll, she thought. Why would any of them noble knights stop in this godforsaken little town and honor this dump of a tavern with their honorable presence?

A few miles the other way was Hocksley, a way bigger town with more choices of taverns, stores, inns and alehouses. And women, for sure. His father's tavern didn't even have a name. It was simply "the tavern." It was the only one around here.
They will never set foot here in
Thull. She sighed, and turned around trotting down the hill, the skirts of her modest gown flying around her ankles.

~~~~~~~

A few days later

It was a warm and lazy summer Sunday afternoon, when a man rushed inside the tavern. "One of them is here!" He exclaimed excitedly.
Hazel froze with her broom mid-air.
"What does he look for here?" William, Hazel's father, muttered. He didn't like their presence. According to him military men, no matter the lignage, always meant shenanigans.
The man shrugged and all the patrons, plus Hazel, ran to the windows or to the door to pop their heads out and see the important visitor riding on the street on his beautiful horse.

Hazel always imagined knights wearing a heavy shiny armor and an helmet, but this one was simply wearing a long brown leather vest with buckles, kept close on his waist by a big belt. Underneath he wore a cloth shirt and trousers, and leather high booths. A light cape, tossed over his shoulders and held closed near the neckline with a precious brooch, flew behind his back. A a sword hung on his side, protected by a beautiful sheath. Everything on him and on his horse looked of fine and noble workmanship.
He didn't wear anything on his head and his longish brown hair waved following the horse movements.
Well of course, she reasoned, they're not at war yet. This must be their informal attire.

Everyone gasped quietly when the knight stopped his horse by the tavern and dismounted.
The curious town folk took gathered timidly by the door as the man made his entrance, creating a subtle, surprised, corridor for him. More inhabitants started gathering outside.
Hazel sneaked behind the others, looking with big eyes. His eyes seemed kind and his mouth was stretched in a slight smile.
Hazel didn't see many men smiling around there. Drunkely laughing and sneering, yes, but kind, genuine smiles were rare in her town. Her dad used to smile once, but stopped when his wife - Hazel's mother- died of illness a few years back. The man lost any spark for life.

The knight had a strong jaw. His straight prominent nose made him look noble and important, his facial hair was well trimmed, and featured a goatee that continued into a short beard down his chin and throat. He had nice wavy hair. Also, nice teeth; another rare thing around here.
"Hile, kind folks." he lifted a hand showing his palm in a salute. He seemed benevolent and courteous.
"Blessed day!", "We are well met!" the curious town people replied, bowing their heads in respect.
"Good day! May I have a pint of your finest ale?" The knight asked the owner, in a chipper tone.