Chapter 45: No honor. No mercy.

The wolves circled their prey.

The banner of the black bird with a gold coin in its beak flapped wildly as the wind picked up. The wind carried the little bird through the air with its prize. A hopeful omen as the bird was surrounded.

Thaelin shifted his stance. He scanned the arena before him. A total of nine wolves: Fellow competing hedge knights and undoubtably hired sell swords with sabers, arming swords, war hammers, a flanged mace and even a spearman stood around him each spouting insults that Thaelin couldn't hear over the crowd.

"You send children to do a man's work? That sounds like a southerner to me!" Thaelin said chuckling at his own joke

"Bring me his head!" ordered the big mustached knight orchestrating the pack.

A sell sword with a hammer advanced on him. The spiked head of the hammer whistled through the air after the ranger's chest. Thaelin ducked to the side. He then swung a closed fist across the sell sword's face, spun around him, and kicked him sharply in the butt. Launching the sell-sword into a knight that was coming up behind the unarmed ranger.

Two knights, each armed with Sol Lancian sabers charged forward. When one swung high, the other swung low. Thaelin leaped backward. He then crouched low as a spear came hurtling towards him. Before he sprung back up, Thaelin scooped up a handful of dirt in each hand. The two knights went for another hack and slash at him, and were greeted with a dirt thrown into their eyes. With his opening, the ranger slammed both of their helmeted heads together.

The spearman ran up to Thaelin with his weapon. Seeing the spear being rammed towards him, the ranger plotted his course. The razor sharp spear tip was aimed at his belly. And with enough force behind it, the weapon would no doubt run him through. Thaelin looked around to find something he could use. He wanted to just pick up a sword. But pride and glory urged him not to. Instead he let the spear come dangerously close to him, its steel head scratched the side of his gambeson as he side stepped away and grabbed the haft. In three forceful moves, he jerked the spear down, slammed it up into the knight's face, and then pulled it free from his grip. But for added flare, he broke the spear over his knee and uses the bits as batons.

Like a drummer, the broken spear shaft struck his opponent in wild succession. The rhythm matched the beating heartbeats of the audience of nobles and commoners watching. All from the common folk to the gentry cheered at the sight.

Hastur leaned in close to watch and pray for his safety. She kept one hand on Freki, and another stroking the dagger on her belt.

The remaining wolves took a step backwards when their prey advanced.

"Avanti! Avanti, codardi!" growled the Sol Lancian

The men looked to each other and hesitated against the order.

"Enough playing around." Thaelin said discarding the batons. "Face me like a man!"

Sir Jacopo del Farran spat and beckoned the other knights and sell swords away. "It seems the Northerner has finally grown a pair of balls. My blade will enjoy cutting them off!"

"Sorry, but these balls are for your wife or your sister. Hell. Maybe they can both enjoy them."

The southerner's hand tightened around his silver hilted sword. The knight twirled the blade around him in a flourish and advanced. The shining sword came at the low-born man with a slash aimed at his belly. The stuffing of Thaelin's gambeson spilled out. And shock gripped the ranger. He could have sworn the strike ended him. But in truth it just sliced through his padded coat like it was nothing. A right sided slash struck the gambeson hard. He felt the ache in his arm as the sword retracted away.

Thaelin took a step back arms stretched at his side. Jacopo watched his carefully. Two brown eyes studying his every move. the ranger brought his arms to his chest and slowly undid the ties to his armor. If he was going to survive, he had to be nimble.

"Wanting to die with grace?" scoffed Jacopo. The sweat stained cloth armor slid off the ranger's shoulders.

Thaelin looked to the corner of his eyes. His first foe, the sell sword with the war hammer, snuck up behind him and grappled the ranger from behind. The sell sword held the haft of his hammer near the head and end, and used the shaft to pin his opponent.

Jacopo smiled at this and flourished his saber to build up momentum into a downward hack into Thaelin's collar.

The ranger slammed his head backwards into the sell sword's face and tried with all his might to pirouette. It was awkward and a bit strenuous, but he managed to turn the sell-sword around just before the strike hit.

The southern knight's saber tore into the sell sword and his saber struck down severing flesh, veins, and chipping his scapula bone in one move.

"Vai a cacare! He is mine."

Hastur's hand around her dagger tightened. Freki whimpered in her lap. The puppy grumble as he saw the killing blow. Hastur pursed her lips at the careless death. If anything happened to her champion. To her friend. The Sol Lancian would pay greatly.

The blade of her trophy dagger jerked out by an inch, but restraint kept the blade in its sheath. She squeezed it back in place and kept her eyes on the two men.

Thaelin backed away till his back hit the railing of the arena fence. Death burned in Jacopo's eyes. He swiped left. Right. And high towards Thaelin's neck. The ranger danced in place. Dodging any attack the knight could make.

Thaelin weaved back and forth anticipating where the next attack would come. Jacopo brought the tip of his saber to Thaelin's cheek just above where his beard began. The cold shining steel blade bit his skin from just a slight graze. A thin line of blood trickled down into his beard.

"You low-born, halfwit, dogs should learn your place. Armor and a blade doesn't make you a knight. You are nothing. The worms under my heel have more station than you. Bastardo. Shall I show you what it truly means to be a knight?"

"How about after I win, you bring your sister to Hayak and I show her the town. Then she can show me her chest." Thaelin said sparking the knight's ire to a dangerous degree.

The shining curved blade of the saber whistled through the air, screaming to taste the low-born man's blood, but all it tasted was the wooded rail behind the unarmed man. With aid of a well times side step, and a swift kick to the knight's cod piece, Thaelin escaped death and had the blade lodged into the railing.

Jacopo tugged for his sword to be free but a fist to the face caught him off guard. The knight's mustache was covered in red as his nose was crunched against Thaelins knee.

Defeat showed itself into the knight's eyes as he looked up to a winded commoner pretending to be a knight was knelt over him. Arrogance and pride steaming off him with his sweat.

"Do it…" wheezed the knight

"Do what? That thing about you sister? I mean I'm game as long as she's not ugly."

Jacopo wiped his blood from his lip. "End this. Like a true knight would. Leave me with my honor."

With a second wind, Thaelin brought himself upright and limped towards the Sol Lancian. He slapped the helmet off the southerner's head and grabbed him by the back of his head.

He looked up to the crowd and heard them gasp. Almost a thousand eyes watched him. Watch their champion, their entertainer. He was going to finish the carnage. He looked to the Noble's stage and saw the green eyes of his best friend look at him in disappointment.

"Go ahead. Kill me. Let me die with my honor" groaned Jacopo

His knuckles cracked as they formed a fist. He slowly cocked his hand back threw his fist into the face of the Sol Lancian. Just before ore contact, he stopped and watched the knight flinch. When Jacopo opened his eyes, Thaelin pinched his broken nose and made a loud 'Honk' sound as he let the man drop into the dirt.

A group of children burst into laughter at the gesture done by the commoner-knight. And hundreds of cheers followed with it.

Hastur let out a slow exhale and hugged Freki tightly. "He won, by Oghma, he won."

Duke Du'Fenn swatted Sir Minot on the shoulder "Now that was a show. Very entertaining."

"I take it those in the confrontation will be disqualified?" Sir Minot said counting out his next loss to hand to Hastur.

"Most certainly. But I think after this, I will pass Lady Nir-Vallen's champion to the finals. Compensation for the altercation."

Hastur's jaw dropped. Her and Sir Minot let out a questionable "What?!"

"You're joking." Grunted Sir Minot

"Not in the slightest."

A cold shiver ran up Hastur's spine. Climbing up the stairs to the Noble's seating was the Duchess, Vina Steinnacht.

Gambling away my loans again, are we, your grace?" the Duchess said with an icy breath

"Ah! Duchess Steinnacht. A pleasure to see you again so soon. And fret not, Sir Minot was just about to give me the last bit I needed to repay you." Said Duke Du'Fenn proffering a pouch from his doublet pocket and handed to the dwarf lady.

I must say, you are sadly late for the shows. We just had a remarkable performance from Lady Nir-Vallen's champion."

Those cold blue eyes glanced over at Hastur and pierced right through her, then looked into the arena to see Thaelin waltzing around the yard blowing kisses to all the women in the audience. Ever the exhibitionist.

"And how did he do?" asked the Duchess

"He's the finalist." Put Hastur with a nervous gulp

"I see." She said turning to the arena "Sir Fridulf." Her voice becoming much louder and yet still stern. "In the final match, you will be my champion and fight for my honor. Do. Not. Disappoint me."

"I would never dream of it. Your grace."