The tale of Ser Marren, one of the first Golden Knights, is one told throughout Vrettonia. It has been worded many ways, and even in songs. But I can't remember it in verse, and my mentor had a much better way with words than me. Basically the story is better than how I tell it, but I'm what you're getting.
Ser Marren is one of the lesser known Golden Knights to the nobility, but is worshipped by the peasantry, even long after his death. In fact Ser Marren wasn't even born of noble blood, though he was certainly noble in every sense of the word. He was born of the earth, but the greatest tool any could have, as he said, was their wit.
So as a young man Marren travelled in simple farmers garb and hat, (for he was just Marren then, no surname and no title) headed for the grand tourney. Hoping that With luck he might even get a good spot amongst the crowds to see the knights. As with all peasants across the land, he dreamed of becoming a knight one day. At the entrance to the event a large crowd gathered around two men fighting. One of them is lost to the mists of time, though many say it was Marren's brother. The other was Prince Rierven, who was known to all as the finest duelist across the land. He bested his opponent, and cried "No man can best me!"
But Marren wasn't a man, he was a hero, and this was his time. Marren stepped forward into the ring of people, and proclaimed "Knights do not boast as such, they should conduct themselves with humility!"
The Prince turned and sneered towards this peasant. How dare he speak of chivalry and honour to the Prince! "What is your name!" he roared
Marren answered as such "I am Ser Marren, though you won't know me by that title for many years. I shall show you that humility is it's own weapon, and strength of bravado is no strength at all."
The Prince laughed, had this peasant not seen him best the last opponent? Although this 'Ser Marren' had a few inches of height and build on the gentler prince, he was untrained and of worse breeding. "I accept wholeheartedly!" cried Rierven, and charged!
Marren leapt back "My prince, my prince! I shall be of no challenge to you with just my bare hands! Give me a blade and half a chance!"
The Prince recoiled. "Of course, I am sorry 'Ser' Marren." The Prince toyed with the word, "I am used to facing opponents who can afford to carry their own weapons!" the speech drew a few laughs from the crowd and the many of the nobles who had assembled nearby. "My friend!" He gestured towards one of the nobles "Give him your blade!"
So, now armed, Marren and the Prince parted. Before The Prince could move, Marren spoke yet again. "My Prince, you look thirsty. I'm sure it would do you no good as to suddenly lose your voice when boasting your victory! Please, have some wine, I can wait."
The Prince was indeed thirsty, and did not fear inebriation at all. The way this peasant moved showed The Prince that he had no skill of sword at all. He called over the Marren, who was admiring his new sword, "I bet I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back!"
Marren called back "Don't just say it, My Prince. Show to the assembled your prowess, or do not speak of it at all!"
The Prince called his bluff. "Nobleman, tie my left hand, no!" He wanted to prove a point, "My right hand behind my back!" The nobleman scurried to obey.
And so The Prince and Marren squared off once again. The crowd was becoming impatient, The Prince sensed as much. But the blood about to be shed made them hungry. He wouldn't disappoint
The Prince leapt forward, but was too slow! Marren side stepped to The Prince's right side, where he was completely defenseless due to his tied up hand! The crowd gasped at what could well be a crippling injury on their future ruler! But Marren didn't strike with his sword. Instead, he stamped hard on The Prince's foot, and pushed the smaller man over onto the ground.
The crowd booed, but Marren's voice rose above them all, "Pride can be an asset, but it can cripple. Bravado is to throw caution to the wind, when one should instead stop and think. Learn this, and you shall become our fine ruler someday, the ruler you deserve to be, and the one we deserve to have."
And with that, Marren dipped his hat in respect to his opponent and walked off, new blade in hand. The first of his claimed prizes in his many quests of legend. The Prince, brought low, would go on to win the tourney, salvaging his honour somewhat, and would remember the lesson taught and Ser Marren for many years to come. Although Marren himself would fade from the public eye for some years,'Ser Marren's Smile' would be an award bestowed on the most respectful and honourable of knights at any given tourney. It was a small golden coin with a farmers hat on it, that could be folded into chainmail or easily fixed onto plate.