Chapter 43: Chivalry

Overnight a new city erupted outside the walls of Hayak. Brilliant banners of royal houses from across Hayak and the land flapped in the breeze. Every color of the rainbow, and every shade in between those colors were visible. Reds, blues, yellows, whites, greens, purples, oranges, and black. Dozens of people, rich and poor alike, donned their finest clothes to partake in the spectacle.

Hastur had watched the gatherings from the windows of the Monastery and wondered what it would be like to set foot in the stadium seats, but now that she was the Matron's Ward and now an alleged 'noble' on the Duke's decree, she had her wish. Wagons and tents were set in rows a good distance away from a wardened off area where a wood stadium was erected.

The market area was full of smiths their hard work. Armor of every size and shape. And every small piece for protecting a certain area of the body. Vambraces, greaves, cuirass, hauberks, sabatons, and helms. Helmets with ornamental designs were shining like mirrors. Horsehair crests, eagle wings, and visored helmets made to resemble a wolf or dragon head. Terrifying in appearance and in price.

The cleric kept a tight hold of Freki's leash as they walked the grounds. Every time one of the massive war horses passed by, she gave a tug at the leash as to prevent Freki from being crushed. The little pup sniffed the grassy field and stopped in front of a food vendor that was painting a goat on a rotisserie with an orange marinade. The vendor tossed a scrap of fatty muscle to the pup who greedily devoured the morsel. Hastur lowered her hood as she approached the stadium. A three rowed set of bleachers built in a half oval provided seating for over 200 common folk to watch the shows. The crowd roared as two knights in shining armor passed each other and a lance shattered into splinters.

She reached into her satchel for a small token. A brooch engraved with the device she took as a coat of arms. A unfurled scroll with a crescent moon emblazoned on its page.

The guards shouldered their pikes and let her pass into the Noble's tage to watch the games. Green and white awnings hung over head to protect the nobility from the sun's rays. At the front of the stage, the Duke sat upon his velveteen chair to watch the games commence. Two empty seats were to his left and right.

"Ah! Lady Nir-Vallen! So good to see you again." Clapped the little ruler of the holding "You look absolutely beautiful today as gorgeous as a dawn's break in a valley of roses." The Duke said hopping off his chair to better greet his personal guest. He gave the cleric the same low bow as the first time they met at his party.

"Thank you, Your Grace."

"Have a seat, dear Lady. Would you care for some wine or food?"

The half elf took a seat to the right of the royal. She couldn't tell if his honeyed words were genuine, but she didn't care.

The Duke popped a plump grape into his mouth. "This year seems to be a great year for entertainment. The joust just concluded and the true test of mettle is to begin."

"Entertainment, Sire?" the mage said remembering all the iron clad knights walking about the field.

The Duke gave Hastur his usual charismatic smile and leaned next to her "I know it must seem barbaric to you and your people, but this is an old tradition in the world of Men. What began as a boastful contest to show a knight's bravado on the battlefield, has now changed into a gathering of delegates and competitors here to seek honor, glory, and other rubbish ideals." He said with a chuckle "Besides, I often make a plenty of bets with the members of my court. My coffers have never emptied."

To their right came the arrival of the most unexpected guest to greet Hastur's eyes. Dressed in a red and white quilted doublet, was the shining bald head of the Captain to the Hayak Militia. And to his right, was a one of the Militia. A young man wearing a conical helm.

Again the Duke bounced out of his chair and greeted his guests. This time with much more enthusiasm.

"Sir Minot! I'm so glad to see you again. I hope you brought your strongbox with you. This year shall be such a interesting tournament this year.

The hulking knight's great helm turned and looked down upon the cleric. Hastur could feel the knight's eyes and it sent a cold shiver through her core. It had to be by the intervention of the gods that the start of the tournament broke their awkward meeting. Sir Minot gave the knight a stern nod, and the armor clad figure walked away.

Several trumpeters wearing green and white tabards gathered in front of the private stage. They turned to face the crowd of commoners and gave their instruments a mighty blast.

"And so we begin." The Duke said breaming with excitement

A steward approached the stage, gave a bow to the Duke, and in turn addressed the cheering crowd. "Ladies and Gentleman. It is my honor to announce that the Hayak Tournament has begun. On behalf of His Majesty, best luck to all knights in attendance and may the Gods give their blessing to you."

Now that formalities were done, the three took their seats and began to talk amongst themselves.

"Oh, where are my manners. Sir Minot. I would like to introduce my personal guest. Lady Hastur Nir-Vallen.

The knight looked puzzled for a second as he instantly remembered where he saw the cleric from, but decided not to make note of it. Being the Duke's guest and all.

"A pleasure to meet you, My Lady." The knight said offering Hastur his hand.

The cleric cautiously accepted and gave the paladin a limp shake. "Indeed, Sir."

As I was saying, Sir Minot. Today's competitors are to be a real treat. I've received word that hedge knights from across Hayak, Mortue, and Sol Lancia have come to battle it out. Those Southerners are always chomping at the bit for every tournament held in the North.

"Indeed. I still have my wounds from when I was just a lad. Wet behind the ears and still unsure how to use a sword. The life of a hedge knight is one for glory seekers and children."

"Are you going to be fighting, Sir?" Hastur said feigning interest in the talk of combat sport.

The knight chuckled. "No, my lady. I'm afraid it would not be fair for me to fight here. There would be no sport in it. But my Champion on the other hand. They will be in the arena today."

The crowd erupted in a roar and the banners of the first competitors for the Sword on Foot competition began. To the left a device of a red eagle soaring on a yellow field. And to the right, to Hastur's dismay, was that of a raven clutching a gold coin in its beak on a grey field. Her own champion's sigil.

The pounding of the drums beat to the same level as the rhythm in Thaelin's head.

*THUMP-THUMP-CLAP*

*THUMP-THUMP-CLAP*

*THUMP-THUMP-CLAP*

He threw on his gambeson and tightened its buckles. Next he laced the leather thongs on the jacket sleeves to the metal plates of his jackchains. Once secured, he fashioned on his cuirass and laced the shoulder covers of the jackchains to the straps on his cuirass. The ranger stretched a bit to test his new armor, it was much heavier than he was ever used to wearing. But given the circumstances he had to sacrifice light armor and speed for protection against opponents armed with bigger and sharper weapons than he had. If all goes to his plan, he wouldn't even need to use them till the final fight.

The ranger pulled a chainmail hood over his head and strode towards the arena. Determination radiated off him like heat from a fire. On his way he didn't pay any attention to the other knights snickering at how 'nakedly armed' he was. What only mattered to him was getting through the first round.

"My Lords." The steward said addressing the fighters "Let it be known that the match will commence until one man is knocked prone, drops his weapon, or yields defeat. Several ample strikes will be needed upon the neck, the belly, the back, or to the head. There shall be no lunging of blades nor ungentlemanly action. Least you be penalized one point."

Thaelin looked to his opponent. A stout man wearing a red and green surcoat. A chainmail hauberk underneath jingled with every step. A riveted kettle helm was fixed atop his head. Face and short ginger beard exposed.

"Sir Vilkers. Are you ready"

Without a word, the knight drew forth his longsword and went with a high guard.

"Sir Fridulf. Are you ready?

The ranger gave a smirk. He set out a strategy that he perceived would gain him much notoriety and a quick victory. "As I'll ever be." he sighed feigning interest.

The Duke leaned towards Sir Minot. "What are your thoughts on this new knight?"

Sir Minot nodded when he took note of Thaelin's choice in armor and weapons "An easy victory…for Sir Vilkers that is."

"Oh?"

"His…opponent's armor is that of a boy in training. Also I've heard of Fridulf before. I'm surprised he's sober enough to buckle his belt."

"I see."

"Hes unorthodox as well. And that will be his folly. These are tested knights with real armor, and much more experience. It will be an easy victory for Sir Vilkers."

"5 silver says he wins in the first round." Hastur put boldly.

"5 silver?!" pondered the Duke

"I'm willing to go 8 if you think you're up for that kind of wager, Sir Minot."

The Duke and the Militia Captain looked to each other and laughed heartily at the half elf's statement.

"My Lady, with all due respect, a handful of silver is not a wager." explained the Duke "to cover the Lady's claim, I wager 20 gold on Sir Fridulf."

"Agreed." the knight said reaching into his strongbox next to him and counting out shining gold coins into his palm.

Hastur sunk in her seat.

The brass bell rung and the two men took their stances. Thaelin left his sword and dagger in their sheathes. He cracked his neck and beckoned the knight to advance with a wave of his hand.

Sir Vilkers charged at the ranger, screaming and bringing his longsword down at the man. Thaelin side stepped into a pirouette behind the knight and kicked the knight in the rear.

The move made the Duke adjust in his seat. An excited grin took him and a concerned one took Sir Minot.

The hedge knight lost his balance with the attack and was projected into the dirt. The crowd cheer and laughed as a flag was raised to display a point earned to Sir Fridulf.

"Oh, sorry, care for a hand?" taunted Thaelin leaning over the man and offering a hand up.

The knight grunted and lashed his sword towards the ranger. Its tip scratched against the ranger's leather cuirass. Another flag placed for Sir Vilkers. Thaelin took a step back and waited for his opponent to rise to his feet. The ranger cracked his knuckles and beckoned the man to come at him. Thaelin side stepped away from sword swipe after sword swipe. He ducked low from a blow that could have taken his head off and brought a closed fist to the knight's jaw.

Sir Vilkers wabbled, dazed from the unforseen move. Thaelin grabbed the man by the rim of his helm and pulled him down into his risen kneecap. The knight fell clenching his nose writhing in the dirt and blood from his broken nose.

The officials removed a flag from Thaelin count and made everyone in the crowd boo at the official's call.

Sir Vilkers tore off his helmet and stabbed his sword into the dirt. "Come hear!"

The knight grabbed theelin into a reverse bearhug and squeezed with all his might.

The constricting metal of his armor and chainmail dug into the ranger's body. Pain shot through his body. Thaelin thrust his head back and felt it crack into the man's already broken nose. The jostle made Sir Vilkers let go to cradle his nose. The ranger turned and brought a leg up to kick the man between the legs but struck a metal cod piece. Thaelin yelled and hopped on one foot at holding his sore foot.

The crowd erupted into laughter. The Duke pounded his fist on his armchair gasping for air between laughs. Hastur couldn't help but sink into her seat hoping not to be associated with her champion.

Two attendants entered the grounds and went to intervene between the knights that resorted to brawling instead of fighting with their blades. One broke away and went to address the steward.

Sir Vilkers covered his face with a rag that soon became drenched in red. He waved off the steward and walked off the field.

"Lord Vilkers is unable to continue. By way of forfeit, this match goes to Sir Fridulf."

Hastur clapped her hands excitedly. Even Freki barked for his friend. His first win of the tournament was a great sign. The Duke plucked the coinpurse from Sir Minot's hand and plopped it into Hastur's lap.

"Congratulations, Lady Nir-Vallen. Lets hope your retainer can keep up the fights to the judge's liking."

The rest of the matches went on in similar fashion. The Duke and Sir Minot placed their bets, exchanged coin, shared laughs, and gave commentary to Hastur explaining how they would predict a match to end.

Then for the last of the fights for the day, Sir Minot's champion entered the arena. The crowd gasped and cheered for the warrior. One Hastur had never seen before.

They wore an intimidating plackart armor and a round bascinet helm. Around much of the chest and the belly, was the shining bits to a solid piece of plate armor. But around the collar, the pauldrons, and the arm braces, were signs of brigadine riveted armor covered in blue brocade cloth. On the right arm was a blue and yellow checked heater shield that had a large black bear paw print painted on.

The Duke's jaw dropped at the sight of the figure. "Oh, my dear friend. This is cruel beyond all measure."

Pride radiated from the knight. It was a cold wave that filled the air with uneasiness and disgust. Hastur looked to the mysterious fighter and saw the fighter turn and look right at her. Part of her froze. She could feel the knight's gaze lock onto her. Like a wolf staring at a sheep.

"W-who is that?"

"No body knows." Hummed the Duke. Coins slid into his hand for another wager. No body except Sir Minot. But for four years now he hasn't said a word on the identity of the champion."

The knights smirk couldn't get much bigger. Or boastful.

Some of the Sol Lancian knights have taken to calling him The Beast. On account of the bear mark on his shield.

"-and the account that my champion has sent so many of their knights to the infirmary." Added Sir Minot

Hearing the revelation made Hastur remember to the previous years of the tournament. She mended the broken arms and legs of knights and heard their squires whisper about a 'beast'. But to see the source of the rumors was something else.

The trumpets blared and The Beast took a low stance. Shield raised. And a massive longsword was placed on the top edge of the shield.

His opponent unbuckled his helm and stabbed his sword into the dirt. "I concede."

And just like that. Without a battle. Without so much as a boast, the knight surrendered to the armored behemoth. The crowd gave a roar of cheers and boos at the lack of action. The two men next to her exchanged coins and grunted with victory and loss.

"Oghma. Please don't let Thaelin be stupid enough to fight that…thing."