The knight stared out of the window, into the English garden. An hour ago he had busily worked there, not in a hurry or in need, but because I did him good. The green and flowers gave him that feeling again, that he could change the world in its details, and that he mattered. The garden gave him small obstacles, which he knew how to overcome, which tool to pick for and which moves to apply instinctively. The world outside seemed different. He wasn't a real knight from the medieval, but he sometimes felt...