Crenshaw Greyspear, the third of his name, and Sir Kleeth Montavere
glided slight and calculated down the Hall of Heroes,
their horses trotting softly as they spoke.

Their light words, the cautious yet direct words of Knights, echoed in wavelength
down the corridor
bouncing off the ivory and bronze statues of heroes
from an older age.

They spoke of matters of the realm,
the troubles of those in the King's service,
and perhaps fair maiden's they'd encountered,
here and there.

Suddenly a vibration rang through Sir Greyspear's hip,
so deep that it rattled his long sword
which rested across his Knight's belt.

Confused, Sir Montavere gave a cautious glance toward the other Knight
and tightened his gloved grip around the hilt of his sword.

Sir Greyspear awkwardly lifted his tunic,
exposing the magnificent sigil of his house,
a gold encrusted Elephant,
raising his trunk in a black field
with stars above.

He then reached beneath his belt,
shoving his long sword aside
and digging deep into his hip for something.

The vibrating thing was suddenly exposed and
Sir Montavere was certain this would end in bloodshed
as he nervously began to remove his sword from it's great long sheath.

Montavere heard the Knight's voice trail off
as he hid the object beneath his half-helm that had been plated in bronze:

"Can you please take me off the mailing list, I'm tired of receiving these calls."

09/12/2014