A sound of a trotting horse slowly fills the entrance to the castle. Though it was hard to hear over the mass of people who had gathered for such an event. Stopping at the gate and before the mass, she slowly hopped off of the pearl white mare with a slight wince under the hood that covered her face. Taking slow breaths, to gather courage and to work though whatever pain plagued her, she gently began her slow pace through the crowd. Her eyes gently danced from person to person as she gently pushed her way through suitor after suitor before finally reaching the front. Slowly, she took a step forward and out in front of everyone as she slowly closed the length of land between herself and the King. After six steps, she stopped and slowly pulled at her hood and cloak, shedding them delicately and placing it gently to the ground as the light washed over her human face. Her eyes gently squinted, her blue hues hiding as the pupils adjusted quickly to the brightness of the sun. A soft breeze of wind gently blew through her hair, letting the auburn curled locks gently brush past her shoulder. Her soft face adjusted itself a bit, giving the King a look of compassion for a brief moment. It was then she began her speech.
Dear King. Her voice carried itself well through the crowd and the distance between herself and the king. I would first wish to apologize for my tardiness. I do not seem to travel as fast as I used to. I Julia Deseth of Brigshire, as the many that have gathered here this day, wish to take the hand of your daughter in marriage. To dedicate myself and only myself to her hand and heart. To suffice the first trial, I offer you this. Her armored hands, wrapped in a set of rather worn and bent plate mail, slid behind her to reach and grab the hilt of a claymore that was securely held behind her back. The sound of metal scraping upon metal is heard as she slowly unsheathed the giant sword and with both hands, she stabbed it into the ground with a soft grunt.
The sword itself was hardly remarkable, hardly something worthy of being considered a gift. The hilt seemed to have been worn down and recreated many times judging from the alloys of different metals and marks of melting. The blade itself was unremarkable, the edges worn in many places due to what seems to be powerful blows against other hard objects and chips from extended use. This sword may not seem like a gift worthy of the hand of your daughter noble King, but with this weapon, the history of my family is carried. This weapon was forged by my fathers great grand father and passed from generation to generation. I do not carry a noble blood nor am I hero of a land. My family has consisted of soldiers who have protected the land I was once apart of. I pass over the history of combat that my family has endured to you. It may not sound like a worthy sacrifice, but if one respects the blood of their ancestors, the sacrifice that is being given is a great one.
Also. She spoke quickly, trying to make sure she was able to finish her speech without being pushed aside by another suitor. I do understand you asked for a gift. But I wish to give another to show my want and desire for this. She said with a heavy sigh. Her hands slowly slid on top of each other, unclasping the metal fasteners that held the worn gauntlets in place and unclasped them with a retched sound of metal grinding upon metal. She slowly placed each piece upon the ground. Piece by piece, her armor slowly came off. Bracers, gauntlets, breast plate, leg guards, boots, and helm were all placed upon the ground with gentle care and resembled the shape of a person, as if all the pieces of metal were fused together for a template. The armor was hardly a sight, like the sword. Rusted and worn, dented and broken in various positions. Julia was now clad in a simple brown shirt, with small rips along her upper arms and a few in her left side, and brown leather pants that seem to have been worn for years. Her body seemed to be well kept, tanned from what seemed to be many hours in the working sun and significant lean muscle that scattered through her arms and legs. Here I offer you my armor. The....sacrifice in this, in case you may not see, is that I offer to sacrifice the tradition of my family for the hand of your daughter. I hope these suffice for what you are looking for.