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Silence lies in an old ancient abbey. Nothing but the scribbling sound of a feather-pen against old paper can be heard. "Old man..." the voice of a young boy breaks the silence in the old library. For a moment it's almost as if a hundred old ghosts looks upon the young breaker of silence in displeasure. The old monk puts down the feathered pen, pours some oil in a nearby lamp and lights it. It was one of the few of the old kingdom that still was around, as if all the marvels of his youth was gone. Nobody remembered anything anymore, not how to act, how to fight, or how to light a bloody room. As always, writing down the words in the book was a sort of meditation for him, and even though he appreciated the young boys attention to the old stories almost every knight now for months, he missed the moments of silence. "Yes yes... I've been coming to this moment for a long time now haven't I..." The old man chuckled. "Did you bring what I asked for?" "Yes! Here!" The young boy handed over an old dusty glas bottle. "Will you continue the story now? We're about to come to the year 510! And you've been hinting at the importance of this year for ages now... and... you haven't told a story for so long." The old man took the bottle in his hand with a strange smile in his face. It had been so long. He opened the waxed flask and smelled the old cherry liqueur. "You know where this is from youngling?... there must only be a few bottles left in the world... must be worth a small fortune now. " "I bought it for half a pence father... the old man said it had gone bad, and to be honest it does smell a bit strange. And... the story... old man?" The boy had looked for the specific flask for almost a week, and the man had insisted he would not continue the next part of the story until he had the flask. What was it about it... "Half a pence... by God's blood. People really don't remember anything do they... Straight from the lockers of [[Ludwell]] I drank this once, oh that night I knew pleasures..." His eyes gazed of on a shelf somewhere of in the library, where he once had written down the story of that night, and a small red flash could be seen on his cheeks. "Father?... the STORY! You were about to tell me about the First Tournament!" "Yes yes... I did call it that didn't I. But it's hardly the most important event of the year." The old man poured some of the strange smelling cherry liquid in to cups, handing over one to the boy. "Drink!" "Not most important...?" The boy looked at the cup. "But father sais..." "Drink, or no story." The boy poured some of it between his lips without a seconds hestitation, first grimacing then showing a strange smile. "It's.... good." "Yeah... it's the wild cherries mixed in, the secret of many things in life. A bit of wild or odd makes all the difference. Just a hint, so not to overwhelm the senses with the madness. It's easy to use too much, like some has learned the hard way." The old man took a sip, smiling from ear to ear. "Story now?" The boy was so eager, his feet was jumping in the seat. "Yes yes... now... where was I...." "They had just reached the harbor! And saw all the flags in the air!" "They are called banners son, not flags... but yes. Let's continue the story, the first tournament, the year where Sir Kay learned a great lesson of humility."
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