THE KNIGHT AND GREYSHIRE

         A crusader for crusading and so little left to crusade for, the Knight known by no other name than The Crusader, set out on a mission that was far nobler than killing people of the Islamic faith for land. He was finally a true crusader, leaving behind the horribly ignorant and violent cloak that was his past, which up until his quest for Greyshire, was his only sad destiny.

        Finally, he was a true crusader fighting for something that meant more to him than gaining land for a vague greater good, for something so subtly noble that it stayed under the radar of others for so many years. Greyshire was such a subtle detail even the Crusader had trouble, at first, recognizing its importance. He was now fighting for something more than a piece of land, fighting for humanity, fighting for all of humanity, fighting for the good and advancement of all. He could feel it now; he was finally fighting for himself too. After years of crusading and fighting nothing ever compared to what his heart felt for finding the Lost City of Greyshire. Within its thick city walls stood the best of humanity, love, and a kindness unmatched, intelligence never before discovered, art never seen by eyes out side of Greyshire, and words never heard, an entire culture and people untouched and undiscovered. All of these things were locked, held tightly and kept within the walls of Greyshire; there they were safe and protected. If only they could creep out into the new world they could influence and bring a new refreshing tenderness to life, and add to life, finally after so many years of insignificant nothingness, point and purpose.

            Having such great things out in the open worried The Crusader. Could its mysterious beauty, be exploited and lost? It was a great risk. Being foolish, strong-willed, and slightly egotistical, he decided that Greyshire was his conquest to win, and this would be a stipulation in the process. He would have to be careful and handle each new idea and experience with care. To go into such a mission and corrupt a source of such beauty would be a waste of time. The Crusader was not worthy to make such a careless mistake. His intentions were true; he wanted to understand the people of Greyshire not exploit them.

    The story and legend of The Lost City of Greyshire was an old one, it had been told so many times that the words of the tale even seemed worn as they fell in the same repeated patterns as they had for years, the only thing that had changed over the years were the ears that legend fell upon. This legend had built up its time honored mystery about it, because no one had ever checked into this mystery, looked into it as deeply, investigated every detail as meticulously as The Crusader was about to.

    The Lost City of Greyshire was once long ago not a lost city at all; it was a town that bustled with every motion of civilization, a town that worked so smoothly it was only a credit and triumph to the human race. So advanced was the small hamlet of Greyshire that it was the envy of every small town that could feel the reach of its greatness. This was cause for much unrest in the small surrounding area. The unrest and chaos of times sent Greyshire reeling, leaving the city to turn inward on itself and seal of its profound greatness and vision from the world. As the town was sealed off from the world and outside communications for centuries Greyshire was able to take a new and independent role towards knowledge, enlightenment, and education. Not being tethered by all of the distractions of the outside world the town of Greyshire had time to focus on many facets of learning. Greyshire now stood, in the minds of many, to be a place of extreme knowledge, a place where philosophy and opinion flowed freely, and none of its people were racked with indecision or indifference. Greyshire was like no other place on earth.

Of course these were merely assumptions about the state of the small hamlet of Greyshire. No one had seen inside, had been inside it’s walls for centuries now. The city walls had remained the same, never changed, a cold grey barrier to the rest of the world.

            The clouded enigma that surrounded Greyshire greatly intrigued The Crusader, such mystery and complexity only furthered his need to complete such a conquest. Getting inside of those walls would be the only way to suffice an emptiness that had been present with The Crusader through all of his many battles, and for as long as he could remember.  

Greyshire was something new for The Crusader. Finally maybe he could a place that he could make sense of, one that he could understand. He knew not what lay within the walls of Greyshire, but somewhere he knew what was there was for him.

            The legend had been just that for so many years. By setting off to break down the walls of Greyshire, the townspeople called The Crusader a fool. He left his village, riding off into the sunset towards Greyshire, with a less than supportive send off. Still he went about his mission not knowing what the outcome would be, but none of that seemed to matter. With all of their ridicule, and their looks of disbelief, so powerful not even armor could deter them, piercing into his back as he left. Even though he knew that he could lose everything, it was the best feeling he’d ever felt. Returning to this town a failure would be the hardest feat to face, but not harder than dealing with the anguish of never attempting to prove a legend wrong, of never getting a chance to live a dream. Living was just so much better now that he had his own quest, and even if it resulted in a painful failure he was not ready to abandon this mission and head back to his previous life of discontent.

Succeeding or failing, The Crusader headed onward, charging nobly, knowing that he had to savor every moment of this battle.