Authors Note:

Well, my first fiction lets see how this one goes. The main character is called Marcus and I hope you enjoy reading about him; he is one of my favourite characters that I have ever written… Marcus breathed deeply, taking in one of his last deep breaths before his final ride. This would determine the championship of the Order, and would give Marcus the opportunity he had been crying out for.

The sunlight flickered on his face off of his bright armour and made his emerald green eyes even more intense than usual. He slammed the faceguard of his helmet down and stretched his neck, loosening his shoulders. His lance lay against his horse, the blue and white stripes bright on the glorious morn. He picked it up and raised it towards the Prelate of the Order, signalling his readiness. His opponent did the same and the bugle was called. The ride was on.

"Ride Gardos, ride!" He cried out to his horse and he felt the familiar buck as his destrier pushed off against the dusty ground.

His opponent had already started riding, kicking up a great amount of dust. His horse continued to accelerate. His breath increased rapidly and his throat became parched, the adrenalin coursed through his system. He cried out to Torm for the strength to win and suddenly, time slowed down.

His lance was steady, aimed at the chest of his opponent. His counterpart had his lance squarely aimed at his chest, the black armour glinting softly in the warm sun. And just as soon as it had slowed, time sped up.

The impact crushed his chest and he rocked back, taking the blow with him. The lance had splintered against his breastplate and he rocked forward, trying to gather his breath. He turned in his saddle, hoping against hope that he had succeeded in unhorsing his opponent. His gaze swept across the crowd, seeing roaring faces and screaming crowds watching the joust.

He saw the horse of his opponent, stood stock still, and he saw the one thing that made his heart skip a beat, his opponent had fallen. He had won…

Marcus ripped off his helmet and raised it to the crowd. They roared and cried out his name, immortalising him, he was their champion.

* * * *

And then his dream ended.