Biz_Ascot_Junco 10 day.ago

One day after a great storm, she found a large snakestone on the beach. It was bigger than her whole head! She found it so fascinating that she immediately brought it home to show her husband, Lord Bartholomew of Aislaby. Though he was a studied naturalist, he could not find the reason for its unusual size. As soon as the two looked upon the spiral stone together, it began to grow warm, then shake, then crack like an egg. From the stone emerged a tentacled creature encased in a spiral shell. The couple were startled, but being learned and gentle folk they were not frightened. They took it as a blessing, a sign from God, and did their best to take care of it in secret. Not even a few months later, they heard the creature babble like a human baby for the first time. Amazed, they knew that this was the child they had been praying for. They gave him the name “Edmund.” Lady Amelia was a masterful tinkerer, so she and her husband worked together to build Edmund an automaton body from brass and leather so that he would have a chance to have a normal life. Not wanting to raise too much suspicion, they said he was born with an affliction of the skin that made it dangerous for him to stay in the sun for long. One summer eve after Mass at Whitby Abbey, the family saw a band of knights riding down the road on their horses, returning from their latest battle. Edmund’s eyes widened with wonder. "What are those shiny things? Are they like me?" Edmund asked. "Oh, those are men in suits of armor." Amelia said. "They are called knights," Bartholomew added. "They are very brave, and do hard work to protect our lands from those who would do us harm." Each day after that, Edmund begged his father to let him train to become a knight. The man was hesitant at first, but one day he watched Edmund wrestle with two older lads near the market square. He noticed how curiously fluid his movements were, almost swaying like waves, and saw in him the makings of a knight. The following week, Edmund rode back to Aislaby Hall with a tunic too large and a future uncertain. As the cart bumped over the old Roman road, Edmund murmured, "One day, I will be a knight." At age seven, he became a page. He learned to serve wine without spilling, to read Latin psalters, to clean chainmail until it gleamed. He polished Bartholomew's spurs until he could see his reflection distorted in their curve. He whispered it between brushstrokes and beneath his breath at bedtime: "One day, I will be a knight." At fourteen, Edmund became a squire. He followed Sir Osmund, Bartholomew's cousin, into skirmishes along the moors where outlaws hid. He slept on rush mats beside the horses and cleaned wounds as often as weapons. Before charging into battle, as he cinched Osmund’s saddle girth and tightened his own hidden bolts, he hissed, "One day, I will be a knight." On his twentieth name-day, in the candlelit chapel of Whitby Abbey, Edmund kept vigil. He bathed at dusk in cold spring water, careful to hide the glimmer of shell beneath his chest plate. He donned a white tunic, red surcoat, and black cloak. A priest anointed him; Lord Bartholomew fastened the golden spurs. Sir Osmund laid a sword upon his shoulders. "Be true to God, to your lord, and to the helpless," Osmund said. "Rise, Sir Edmund." As Edmund rose, the decades of salt and brass caught up with him. A crack hissed along his torso. The chamber filled with the scent of brine. Steam puffed from his seams. Then, with a clatter of brass and the hum of old gears, his helm fell away. Revealed beneath was the coiled, iridescent form of a nautilus. His many eyes blinking in the candlelight, his shameful gasp clicking and melodic like a harp strung under water. Silence held the Abbey. Then Amelia stepped forward. "You will always be my son," she said. "And this day you have shown great bravery in showing your true face to the world." Bartholomew nodded. "You’ve guarded our lands with honor, Edmund. Shell or not, that is what makes a knight." Edmund turned to them all, raised one gleaming tentacle in salute, and said with pride, "Finally, I ammonite."