Heyo Guys! This story is a little different than most, but I hope you like it. I'm not sure how long it will be, and updates might be a little sporadic.

It takes place in the medieval era, and while I know more than the average Joe about it, my knowledge is not perfect. Feel free to shoot me any corrections. (Though keep in mind that this story takes place in 1200 France specifically.)

There are a few inaccuracy's that I did on purpose though. France has this whole separate names for duke, lord etc. that I do not care to replicate. Partly for my own sanity, and partly because it's way more recognizable for the general audience. I also made up the lands mentioned here. Exact times may be a little flexible.

Other than that, feel free to shoot some suggestions for changes.

It was in 1215 The Year of our Lord that it was decided by the Pope that the Holy land must be reclaimed once more. Several had been make before, some more successful than others. This time, however, it was decided to strike through Egypt, land of Pharaohs and riches!

Rumors spread like weeds throughout the Kingdom. This was a chance to gain fortune and glory, with the added bonus of traveling father than ten miles from ones own farm.

In fact, if half the rumors where to be believed, every common man would be a Lord, and every Lord a King. Those who were sensible expected little to nothing from the journey, or didn't join it all. Those who lacked such sense clamored to go, and dreamed of dragon hoards to be "liberated".

Few stopped to think that it the amounts of gold they imagined unearthed itself, it would be no more valuable than dirt. Fewer still imagined the possibility of dying on the journey. How would they bring the riches they won back home? Because of this general lack of common sense, quite the sizable army went to fight in 1217 for God, or gold.

As it was, the trip went poorly, and very few profited from it's failures.

One of those few, was Erik.

No one knew him by anything else, and any attempts at discovering anything else were met with stubborn silence. He joined the army at the tender age of sixteen. What he hoped to gain from it was unknown to anyone but himself. He seldom spoke, and when he did and was because a commanding officer had ordered it so.

During the army's short period of training he had taken to the sword like duck to water. He never asked questions, but still excelled in every maneuver he was taught.

Those who were kind called him thin. Those who were unkind (And there were many of them in the army) called him a skeleton. He was taller than most of the men, and much stronger than he looked. His hair was a mop black strands which he tied back with a piece of leather and golden eyes that frightened his comrades.

They did not take to him kindly, but he was stronger and smarter than most of them, it only took three weeks for them to learn to leave him to himself.

Despite this, or perhaps because of it. He was set to command over thirty men in 1219 when most of them were ten years his senior. They learned to trust him to keep them alive in what they now believed to be the worst decision in their lives.

One person took particular notice of him during his small success. He was known as Giovanni. Knighted by the Pope for his great skill, and then sent to assist with the Crusade. Despite his time being taken up of commanding five hundred men, he took Erik under his wing.

He taught Erik the finer points of swordsmanship, and basic battle strategy. A year into this arrangement, Giovanni fell in battle, his last request was that Erik take his post. It was granted.

A commander over five hundred men gave Erik the power to save the King of Hungary (Who led the crusade.) later in battle. He was so grateful that he promised Erik a handsome sum once he returned to Europe, and then knighted him. In 1221 they retreated back to Europe and Erik was paid. He returned to France where he offered his service to the King there. It was accepted, and for the next five years he fought so well that the King gave him the title of a Duke, along with a choice of land.

To the King's surprise, he chose the Black Lands.

They were a large swath of lands against the sea with nothing but infertile dark rocky hills that allowed little to grow but weeds. There were no forests, no chance of a good crop. A century before, a foolish lord had built a castle out of those dark stones and had gone bankrupt upon it's finish. No one had lived there for eighty years, it was naught but dusty hallways and a few collapsed towers.

The King knew this and tried to dissuade him, but Erik was firm. The King eventually gave him what he wished.

Once there, he swiftly took control of the farms and villages that surrounded it and began hiring stone masons and builders to restore the castle to it's former glory. This took three years, and when it was finished he filled it with furniture. Then he hired servants to care for the land, cooks to feed them and horses and everything that he might need.

Then, with his moneybag feeling light, he bought flocks of sheep and turned them loose in those rocky hills with scads of young lads to watch them. There, with no competition for food, and no forests to hide bears and wolves, they flourished on the weeds that grew there and produced the best wool in France. This Erik sold to Italy, where it was spun and woven into fabrics all the colors of the rainbow and sold back to France.

Unhappy with this arrangement after three years, he emptied his pockets again and built the largest fabric facility in France. This attracted the finest dyers and spinners from France whom he tasked with creating wool as fine as Italy's. They succeeded for the most part, and without shipping costs to worry about, it was much cheaper than Italy.

In addition, he cultivated the best of his land and grew the toughest of barley. This was sold for cheap to anyone that wished for fodder for their animals.

These two decisions made him very rich, and so when the Earl south of him went bankrupt (Partly due to three bad years of weather, but mostly because of his five spoiled daughters.), Erik was happy to take the lands the Earl could not afford to keep off his hands.

While these lands were rocky, they were much better than his own. He cheerfully planted wheat, beans and peas. In addition he planted a sizable amount of grape vines and built a building to turn it to wine.

All of these improvements eliminated the need to import much of his supplies, while being able to sell the excess.

He became known as a great lover of the arts, so artists, musicians and sculptures flocked to his court. Few were turned away.

Within fifteen years he had turned the desolate Black Lands into the most prosperous in the Kingdom. He owned as much land as the King and was almost as rich as him. If it had been anyone other than Erik, the King might have been worried. Erik the Black (As he began to be known as.) was loyal to a fault, any enemy of the King was an enemy of his. Few dared cross the rich and powerful Duke Erik.

So the King did not curb his profits, and he grew steadily richer and more successful. He might have continued in this way till the end of his days if it weren't for the issue of an heir.

Erik's servants respected their Lord. Though he seemed to be touched in the head during his first few years, with all his talk of improvements and innovation, he'd soon proved himself as being a worthy leader. He was fair in payment, judgement and expectations. They knew they could trust him to bring prosperity.

So when five years passed and he did not marry, and he did not have an heir, they didn't question it. After seven or eight years, they began to wonder, after ten they began to be fearful.

They had reason to be worried, Erik was new blood. There were no cousins, brothers or nephews to take his place should he die without an heir. There were even less sisters, aunts and nieces to marry to a suitable heir. He had no family, and no one to take his placed once he passed. Four and thirty and no wife. If he died, what would happen to their newly orderly and comfortable lives? They began to bemoan his lack of a wife, and begged his manservant to bring up the topic so as to encourage him to procure such a thing.

For the most part Erik ignored their woes, though it was said that he told his manservant that he had no use for the "quacking idiots that graced their attentions on every unsuspecting man in court."

This did nothing to raise their spirits. They all became so high strung that every time Erik so much as sneezed the nearest servants would cross themselves and begin praying in earnest.

Despite these thoughtful gestures, it did not encourage Erik to give in to their desires. Nor did he enlighten them on why he did not take a wife, though most guessed it had something to do with the mask.

It was widely known that The Baron Erik of the Black Lands wore a mask. Why was the question of many, theory's ranged from his being wounded during the crusade to the idea that he was a fairy that would perish if his face touched the sun. (The later being cooked up by an Irishman after drinking many a gallon of wine.)

Fairy or not, he was never seen without it. Even his manservant did not dare enter his bedroom until his master had invited him.

It was the mask that his servants blamed for his lack of a wife. Few woman dared approach him when his eyes glared at them behind it. There was something to be said for the idea that he wore the mask for this sole purpose.

And so after fifteen years the Knights, Lady's, servants and common folk despaired of him ever having a son when the letter came from the King, kindly inviting Erik to the Christmas celebrations at his castle, and nigh on ordering him to find a wife while he was there.

So that's a rap. This was very stressful to write as I accidentally deleted everything I had about 3/4 my way through writing it, so I had to write it again. But I'm glad it's done now.