The forest knight arrived at court in the grey hours before dawn.
It made the guards understand that it needed to see the king but shied like a nervous horse when they tried to usher it inside. It took a few hours of nervous pacing before the knight was ready to enter a building.
By the time the king had been roused by his chamber staff - washed, perfumed, guilded and dressed - the knight had skittered through the corridors to the main hall. It seemed more comfortable in that lofty space, but still roamed restlessly through the pools of coloured light pouring from the arched windows.
The king entered the hall alone. A rare dispensation in recognition of the strange nature of this summons. In a display of informality he sat on the stairs leading up to the throne, cloth of gold robes spilling out around him. After all, pomp and ceremony were wasted on woodland creatures.
When the forest knight did eventually approach the throne, it did so at such speed that it took all the king's diplomatic training not to flinch. It knelt before him on the floor, the age polished wood of its greaves clicking against the cold marble.
After a moment the knight took a firm grip of the leaf and sword sigil at the centre of its breastplate and twisted the whole design to the left. A series of clicks and clunks reverberated through the silent hall. Despite himself, the king sat forward in fascination - he had ruled for 3 decades now, but had never seen a forest knight out of its armour.
One by one, pieces of armour detached and fell to the floor. A pauldron bounced and clattered over to rest at the king's feet, gauntlets lay splayed out like dead spiders, the gorget tumbled to the floor. The breast plate was one of the final pieces to go, leaving the knight knelt there in its helmet alone.
The knight had the body of a young woman; slim but leanly muscled like a forest cat, blue veins clearly visible through its bone pale skin. The king glanced guiltily at the knight's small breasts before deliberately looking away. The shadowy space between its powerful thighs was even more tantalising, but there are some things not even a king is worthy of seeing.
The king's gaze was drawn away from danger to where the breastplate lay on the floor. He was horrified to see that the inside of the armour was coated with a layer of moss-like cilia, that rippled and moved disconcertingly.
At last the knight reached up to grasp its helmet, with elegant long-fingered hands. It seemed to take a moment to steel itself, before removing the final piece of its crafted carapace. The helmet came off slowly, the knight visibly straining to lift it from its head muscles and tendons stood out on its arms and its chest heaved with desperate breaths. The king held his breath as well.
With a sucking sound the helm was finally clear of the knight's head. However, a long root like protrusion still connected it to its wearer. The king muttered an oath as he saw that this root disappeared down the knight's throat. Higher and higher the knight lifted the helm, drawing the tendril from within its body. Its pale neck worked and convulsed and the king rubbed his own throat in unconscious sympathy.
At last the splayed root came into view and the knight through its helm aside. It dropped to all fours, retching and coughing furiously. The king watched its shoulder blade heave and the muscles of its back slide sinuously beneath papery skin.
When the noise of the knight's retching had ceased to echo, it drew itself back up to kneeling, hands placed primly on its knees. The knight's face was delicate, almost elfin, with sharp cheekbones and a slightly upturned nose. Its eyes were solid green, without whites or pupil, and the king struggled to meet them. A mossy fuzz was all the knight had for hair. Where it caught the light the king thought that it might be red in colour.
The knight opened its mouth a few times, looking puzzled, but all that came out was a hoarse rasp. After a few more attempts and some more coughing it managed to speak in dry whisper.
"Your. Majesty." It said haltingly. Making even those two short words seem a struggle.
The king inclined his head regally. He had no idea of the etiquette in this situation and hoped that he could bluff it out. When in doubt, majestic silence tended to be a good option.
It seemed that this sparse greeting would be the knight's only gesture towards the usual obsequiences expected from guests and it continued with the meat of the matter.
"The forest is entering. Its. Mast era" the knight whispered, forcing the king to lean closer to hear it.
The king waited, but apparently that was all.
"Is that... bad?" He asked, cautiously.
The knight nodded emphatically.
"In a mast year oaks and beeches put out acorns and nuts and seek to spread themselves as far as they can.
"The forest does the same, but at intervals of thousands of years. All of its trees will send out seeds and nuts, all of its plants will flower, and all of the dark things that crawl in its shadows will issue out in search of sustenance and new pastures".
"Oh". The king sat back in his chair and contemplated all the stories he'd heard of the forest's beasts, of the things that crept out from its fringes under cover of darkness to suck whole villages dry.
"Oh".
They both sat in silence for a while, the king brooding and the knight breathing raspingly and rubbing its throat.
The king straightened up and tried to look less worried and more regal.
"So, what do we do?" He asked.
"Fortify. Consolidate. Train" the knight wheezed. "I will guide and protect you. From now on I will not leave your side".
The king thought of mentioning the hundreds of hand picked men in his personal guard, each one half as tall again as the knight and twice as heavy. After meeting its green gaze again he decided against it.
"I thank you" he said graciously. "When do we begin?"
The knight reached for her helm without breaking eye contact with the king.
"Now".
The king tried not to be the first to look away, but when the helmet root started to blindly grope for the knight's mouth he turned his back. He fixed his eyes on the tall windows above and tried to ignore the choking sounds of the knight rejoining with its armour.
