Author's Notes
This story is a slow burner, but stick with it!. It was written in script format over a year ago, and I'm just converting it to a story. But that means I know exactly what's going to happen! I can promise you plenty of high drama, angst, and a good ending (even though I say it myself!). So just enjoy the build up in the meantime!
The Best Man
Chapter 1
The capital of the kingdom of Mercia was pulsing with activity in every corner of the city. The blue banners that carried the Mercian crest – the fortified stone tower on a background of black and yellow – were being hung over the gates into the citadel and on its walls, and across each street leading up to it. Servants dressed in the livery of the court were scurrying everywhere, carrying baskets containing everything from numerous types of food to freshly laundered cloaks belonging to its knights. Everywhere there were preparations being made for the upcoming tournament and for the numerous visitors who would flock to the city to watch.
In one of the long corridors of the citadel, a courtier hurried towards the imposing double doors that stood at the end of it. The guards on either side of the entrance pushed the doors open as he approached, and then closed them behind him. And in the vaulted chamber beyond those doors, Bayard, king of Mercia, sat at a heavy long wooden table on which there laid a number of sheets of parchment, a quill pen and ink, and the royal seal of Mercia. The king looked up as the courtier approached him.
"You sent for me, my Lord?" The courtier gave a small bow as he said the words.
"Yes, I am ready to send out the invitation to the tournament."
"Which court are you inviting to join us this year, Sire?
But before Bayard could answer, the doors were flung wide open and a tall young man strode into the room, not bothering with any greetings or pleasantries before asking his question.
"Have you decided yet father?"
Bayard smiled, pushed his chair back and rose to his feet so that he could turn and face his son properly before answering him. "The last two years' contests have been entertaining enough, but it was almost embarrassing how easily our knights dismissed first Olaf's men and then Alined's men the following year. Ivan - I know how much you, as much as any other man, enjoy the sweet taste of victory, but maybe it's time for Mercia's knights to face more of a challenge. I would like the invitation this year to go to Arthur and the knights of Camelot."
Ivan gave a tight lipped smile and a curt nod. "I'm sure that they will prove to be worthy participants", but even as he said the words, he was wishing that his father had invited anyone else but them.