In searching through some old documents, I found this short story based on Warhammer that I wrote in the late '90's. Enjoy! 

Note: The abhorrent Games Workshop spelling of “Brettonia” has not been used.

The Chanson of Bernard le Favor in Prose

Extracted and condensed from the 158 verses and 17 choruses of “Le Chanson de Bernard le Favor and the Songs of his Noble Valour” as composed by the Bard Julian le Troubador.

Bernard crashed through the swamp, stumbling as he ran, tears blinding his vision. Barely able to see, his thoughts were fixed on just one thing… to run, and get away from that battle as fast as possible! Against this single-minded goal impeded no other thought;not sustenance, time, direction, not care for himself, not even shame at his cowardice. Yet deep inside, gnawing at him, was his love for the Fay Enchantress.

Finally, Bernard’s strength exhausted him. He tumbled headlong over a log and down a small hill. There he lay, crying and cursing himself at his cowardice, unworthy of the title of Knight Errant. Faintly; the sounds of battle came to him, for he had not blundered that far. The clash of steel on steel, the twang of bows, the hum and discharge of potent magic! Technically he was still on the battlefield, though some distance behind enemy lines.

Resting for a moment, Bernard stifled his sobs, wiped away his tears and began to survey his situation: He was out of the swamp now, that much was good. He was without mount, and his unit had been destroyed. But it was when his beloved Duke, Folay, Duc de Parravon, fell in battle that his courage had left him. Bernard had run from the battle like a frightened child.

The might of the Lizardman army had amazed him. He had thought they would be weak. But the sheer power of the Slann-Mage Czantekel had stunned him. He had seen the power of the Empire battle wizards inaction, tempered by the Waagh of the Goblin shamans, been repulsed by the power of Chaos. But nothing… nothing had prepared him for sight of the white fire of High Magic as it incinerated a mighty unit of Grail Knights in lance formation. The mighty Slann-Mage then proceeded to deal a mortal blow to his beloved Duke, whilst at the same time casting down all the spells the Fay Enchantress could weave. He himself had been overwhelmed by the missile fire from salamanders and those pesky skinks with their deadly bows. One by one, the Knight Errants under his charge paid the ultimate price in defence of Mother Brettoni. After that, he had no courage for the fight.

Wistfully, he sat and held a token in his hands, he caressed the simple trinket lovingly and fought back more tears of remorse. The object he held - while worthless to others - was more priceless to him than life itself. He allowed this thought to grow in him and his fear turned into something else. Gaining a further resolve he pushed his anger deep within him. Standing slowly he took his sword in hand and tied around it the trinket he was carrying. It was a tress of hair, a gift to him from the Fay Enchantress of Brettonia.

He had broken his ban!

In truth he had not prepared himself properly. Bernard had allowed his pride to deceive him. For he was a Knight Errant Champion of Brettonia! And what is more, he had been granted a favour from the Fay Enchantress herself!

A snorting sound snatched Bernard from his thoughts. Spinning around, sword in hand, he was ready to fight! Out of the swamp, dripping in muck, trotted a Brettonian Warhorse. Despite its sad appearance it still held its head up high, a sure sign of the Elvenhorse blood that still pumped through its veins. Although its carapace was stained Bernard could still clearly make out the heraldry. This was the horse that recently bore the Duke of Parravon. Amazed at the courage of the Duke’s horse in seeking out another rider so that it could return to battle, Bernard wasted no time in mounting up. He had no Lance, his sword would have to do.

Listening for the sounds of battle, he spurred his new horse on. Around the swamp charged with a new sense of urgency. Still out of sight, Bernard could tell the battle was not going well for Brettonia, the sound of Brettonian archers had long faded. He feared for the Enchantress, that she might have been slain. The very thought appalled him and filled is heart with dread, but within burned a new resolve. He spurred his horse on to greater and greater speeds. Rounding the swamp, his heart leapt with joy, and then filled with dread.

Morgiana was still alive, but beleaguered. No knights now stood to defend her. Only a handful of mounted squires protected her from the Lizardmam Saurus warriors! Yet still she battled on, weaving her mystical incantations in magical combat with the Slann-Mage. Even imperilled herself, she always protected her troops whom she enveloped in a red vapour of protection which surrounded the Fay Enchantress.

Bernard could see the battle was hopeless. The Lizardmen were just too numerous, and the Slann-Mage’s magic was too powerful. He had heard that all their minds where magically linked as one brain and they acted individually as if their were dozens present. Yesterday he had scoffed at such notions, now he feared they might be true. His own situation was equally impossible. One Knight, against an entire army? Still, he could not desert the Fay Enchantress a second time, his honour would not allow it. He silently prayed that Morgiana’s favour still held, and that his cowardice had not broken it. She had promised him that as long as he was true and faithful to the Seven Commandments of Chivalry, fortune would smile upon him in battle. Armed with this thought, he raised his sword, turned and raced his warhorse towards the Slann-Mage.

A unit of skinks turned to face him, they fired their wicked barbs, but all failed to penetrate his knightly armour. He charged them with a mighty crash and 2 fell beneath his sword while his warhorse dispatched another. They fled, and Bernard ran them down and slaughtered them in their tracks. Racing across the battlefield he attracted the gaze of Morgiana le Fay. He saluted her as he charged towards the Slann-Mage, his horse answering the call to battle. Morgiana acknowledged him as he charged. She smiled at him, pleased to see him once more. No look of recrimination came from her, it was more relief that he was alive, and proud to see him return to the battle. Morgania cast her incantations as he rode and whispered softly, words which carried to him across the battle and echoed loudly in his ears.

“Sir Bernard! The Slann-Mage is doomed to perish by your sword!”

Bernard felt the words of power. Surprised at the responsibility with which the Fay Enchantress had entrusted him, he charged the Slann-Mage directly. The Slann-Mage too had felt the power and turned to face Bernard, fear and doubt emanating from the expressions of Saurus’ that bore him. Bolts of fire and energy threatened to sear his bones and rend the very fibres of his being. The Fay Enchantress threw them down, protecting him in his charge with scant regard to her own personal safety. Even as he watched, the hopelessly outnumbered Squires protecting her buckled under the immense onslaught of Saurus Temple Guards and gave way, leaving her open to attack!

The Slann-Mage renewed its magical attack on him. Shifting in his seat, his Brettonian Warhorse responded adroitly, carrying the weight of rider and armour with ease it dodged the bolt of white fire which incinerated a pursuing salamander!

The clouds parted. A shaft of light crossed the palm of the world with silver, coming to rest on the charging figure. The skinks and salamanders blanched, unable to bring their craven weapons to bear on such an imposing figure as a charging Knight of Brettonia in all his glory! For he no longer was Bernard, but Sir Bernard the Favoured and his charge was to slay the Slann-Mage or suffer Morgiana Le Fay to perish upon the battlefield. Bernard crashed into the Slann-Mage’s personal guards, forcing them back. Facing the Slann-Mage directly he raised his sword up high…and swung...

Bernard could not remember what happened next. At first he thought he had failed and died in his attempt. Regaining his strength he staggered upright and looked at the blackened earth which surrounded him. His faithful horse lay dead beside him, he himself was badly wounded. Before him lay the broken body of a once proud Slann-Mage.

Surveying the battefield, the Lizardman armies were in disarray. With no Slann-Mage to protect them, they were no match for Morgiana’s magical might. The mounted squires were putting down isolated pockets of resistance. A unit of archers had rallied and Brettonian bows were once again twanging into units of Lizardmen. Those that did not flee, either perished by the sword or were turned to frogs by Morgiana’s spiteful glance. By dusk, it was clear the battle belonged to Brettonia. The Slann had been taught to fear the thunder from the hooves of the Brettonian warhorse!

Morgiana entered the tent where Bernard’s wounds were being tended.

“Your Errand is at an end.” She announced simply. “The Lady of the Lake has bestowed her favours upon you today. You are now Sir Bernard le Favor, Knight of the Realm of Brettonia. It is customary at this time to bestow the Errand of Knighthood upon another, as you yourself were so appointed.”

Bernard swallowed hard, trying to clear his thoughts. “Send for the Captain of the Squires.” He commanded.

“He is dead.” came the reply from one of the attendants. “But there was one who stood beside the Enchantress when all others fled.”

“Send for him.” Commanded Bernard. Like it or not, he was the now in charge. The only knight to have survived.

The trembling squire entered the tent, protesting “I am not worthy of this honour. My knight is dead and many of my kindred slain, mine own captain I could not save.” He hung his head in shame.

At this juncture Morgiana intervened. “You are not to blame for their deaths. Rather your courage has given meaning to their sacrifice. You must further their honour by taking up the banner and providing purpose to their lives, and justification for their deaths. As long as you live faithful to the Code of Chivalry, they will forever be with you! It is the solemn duty of living to continue the work of the dead.”

The young squire knelt before Bernard. Bernard drew his sword and touched him lightly upon his shoulders with the flat of the blade. “In the name of the Lady of Lake, I bestow upon you the Errand of Knighthood, the right to wear armour and the right to ride a Brettonian warhorse. I bind upon you the Code of Chivalry with its Seven Commandments. I give unto you the responsibility of the defence of the realm, the protection of the innocent, and the relentless pursuit of the Holy Grail. May you one day sup from its holy contents. Amen. You may now rise Sir…”

Bernard paused, realising too late that he had forgotten to inquire of the young squire’s name. “Percival.” Finished the new knight. “Sir Percival.” Concluded Bernard.

Although young and trembling, Bernard caught a momentary glimpse of the future, of great deeds that this knight would perform. But then it was gone, which is well for such tales are the reserve of another long Chanson.

Outside it began to rain, but that was far from anyone’s mind. Now was a time of rebuilding, of remembering the dead, of accepting new responsibilities and burdens. No one spoke in that small tent, all preferred to sit in stunned silence. A silence broken only by the croaking of frogs in the rain.