The Prince's Thief

The Armorer's Daughter

The sound of clashing steel was followed by a quiet thud as my opponents sword embedded itself into the ground.  The boy who was older than me by a year, and a good deal taller than I, threw up his hands in surrender.

" Alright, Faye. I admit it." Tristan commented begrudgingly. I grinned, lowering my sword.

" Don't feel too bad, Tristan. I am the daughter of an armorer." I replied.

" I'm well aware of that. Your father has been teaching you to handle a sword since you could hold a dagger." Tristan pointed out.

" Do you think Prince Arthur would still welcome you on his quests now that a girl has beaten you in public?" I joked, and Tristan laughed.

" Perhaps Prince Arthur should ask you to join one of his quests, Faye." Tristan teased. We had been friends since our childhood, and Tristan had always agreed to practice swordplay and archery with me. Tristan was the son of a knight, and would likely one day follow in his fathers footsteps.

" Perhaps he will." I called after Tristan jokingly as he walked away, though in reality it was all I had dreamed of since I was a young girl. I would have given anything to take part in such a quest as the ones Tristan and the other knights journeyed on, but as a girl, that was hardly likely. Or so I thought.

I was walking home to my father when I noticed a piece of parchment nailed to a post, as was always done when the castle had notice or a decree to post. Black writing intrigued me, and I stepped towards the parchment to read it.

Should you meet the following requirements, please report to the castle courtyard at sundown today: Quick, light-footed, nimble. Sufficient skills in archery and swordplay. In good health. Quiet on foot.

For a moment, I was quite sure it was Tristan playing some sort of trick, or if not Tristan, my own eyes. But I saw others reading similar postings, and felt my heart pounding against the walls of my chest. I knew the poster was intended for men, I knew that. But I matched this description, and as it had not specified, I would do no wrong by meeting in the courtyard at sundown. I ran back to my home, the smell of hot steel and baking bread filling the area.

" Father! Father! There is to be a meeting in the castle courtyard at sundown, the prince is looking for some sort of warrior." I exclaimed, and my father turned around to face me. People had always told me how I was the spitting image of my mother, different only by my father's piercing eyes. My mothers eyes had been a soft hazel, and my fathers a blue that would match the finest gem. I had my mothers auburn-red hair which reflected shades of gold in the sunlight, my mothers delicate facial features, high cheekbones, full lips. But I shared the startlingly blue eyes of my father. I was tall for a woman, and of a slender yet athletic build.

" Is that so? Faye, you cannot mean to tell me you will be attending such a meeting?" My father asked softly, setting down his hammer. I nodded.

" Yes, father, that is precisely what I intend to do." I replied.

" Faye, you cannot be serious."

" I am, father. I expect to be rejected on the account that I am a girl, father, in fact I am quite certain of it. But if there is even the slightest of chances, father, I must take it. Or I know I shall regret it." I tried to explain. My father gave me a small, knowing smile, and then wrapped me in his strong arms.

" I love you too dearly to see you upset or in regret. If you feel you must go, then you must. But mind you hold your tongue, Faye. They can do nothing for your attending, but they can should you not speak with caution." My father warned, and I smiled.

" Thank you, father. I will." I added. Well, at least I would try.

Sundown came quickly, and by the time the brilliant lights illuminated the sky, I stood in the courtyard with my hair braided to the side, swordbelt and sword attached to my hip. I had changed into the chainmail my father had made me, a tunic that fell a few hand-widths past my waist, and breeches. My leather boots accompanied the outfit, but then, I always wore them. A bow was in my hand, a quiver of arrows on my back. As I stepped into line with the men whom had shown up, two began to laugh. The prince and his knights, however, said nothing at first. The prince walked down the line, starting at the opposing end from where I stood. By the time he reached me, three men had already been sent home.