Man, action scenes aren't easy to write. I really hope this turned out okay.
Seymour doubted it was possible to feel any more out of place than he did.
It had to be clear to anyone who took one look at him that he wasn't well-suited for any sort of physical sport. Up until it came time for the main event of the day, the crowd had been entertained by several smaller sparring events, and everyone who had come and gone from the arena was bigger and stronger and far less clumsy than he was.
And there was also the matter of his lack of practice. He'd never worn armor before, he had yet to experience any sort of combat, and he'd only had time for precisely one brief lesson on how to ride a horse. At the very least, they'd noticed his lack of experience and made sure his mount was a reliable and experienced one, though he doubted that would be enough to make up for every other area he was lacking in.
Mentally, he ran over everything he did have time to learn. Two horses charging in opposite directions, riders trying to strike each other with their lances, first one to yield or be knocked off their horse loses. He wondered if there were any rules stating that you'd be disqualified if you lost your lunch before the match had even begun.
As he was getting into position, his nerves were absolutely not helped by the sight of his opponent, who looked as if he'd done this sort of thing a hundred times before. He was dressed in a bright white suit of armor that looked as if it hadn't been cleaned in a while, and Seymour thought that he wouldn't be surprised if the color had been purposely chosen to clearly show all of the dried reddish streaks. Orin's shield rattled when it moved, and Seymour noted that it was adorned with some sort of beading. Or perhaps not beads, he realized as he squinted. Were those… someone's teeth?
He suddenly had drastically less faith in his ability to leave this competition alive.
Though it was hard to keep his focus on anything but the mounting anxiety in the pit of his stomach, Seymour did notice murmurs starting to ripple among a few people throughout the crowd. They seemed surprised by something, and it was only when he caught Audrey's name that he realized what had caught their attention. He looked down at his shoulder, and his eyes locked onto the gift she had given him. They hadn't expected him to be the one given her favor. He was still rather surprised by it himself, and couldn't blame the crowd for being even more confused.
Still, the reminder of the small piece of cloth hanging there made him think of why exactly he was doing this, and he sat a little straighter in his saddle, feeling a little of the sense of fear starting to ebb away. He was doing this for Audrey, and that meant he had to give it his all.
Still, no amount of bravery was going to completely carry him through a joust. The next thing he knew, they were given the signal to begin, and he was experiencing just what it felt like to have another horse and a rider with a very large weapon charging at you. And truthfully, he couldn't describe the feeling all that well, as it made it very difficult to think straight.
He was almost certain that the only reason his opponent missed on the first pass was sheer luck, though he might also attribute some of it to being much smaller than the contestants anyone would be used to facing. He breathed a heavy sigh as his horse slowed to a stop, although he couldn't feel much relief when he knew that it was still far from over.
He was now much closer to where Audrey stood in the crowd, and wanting to offer some encouragement, she waved when she noticed him looking. As she did, her sleeve fell lower around her arm, and he saw something that she'd managed to keep hidden before. Running up and down her forearm were a multitude of bruises, and even he could make out that they had distinctly come from someone's hands. She quickly noticed and tugged her sleeve back down, involuntarily sending a wary glance in the direction of Lord Scrivello.
The meaning was clear, and Seymour felt that he could see red as his horse turned to get in position again. It was hard to think of anything but just how much he wanted to knock that man off his horse and know that Audrey never had to be near him ever again. But wanting to and being able to were two different things. He was heavily struggling to keep up with the multiple tasks of staying in the saddle, keeping a grip on his lance, and trying to see where his opponent was approaching enough to aim. He still couldn't quite seem to manage the last part, and that time, Lord Scrivello didn't miss.
Seymour half-believed it had to be some sort of miracle that he stayed on horseback even after the heavy slam that shot up his shield-arm and seemed to knock the breath clean out of him.
Ow, ow, ow. No one had warned him nearly how much that was going to hurt. His arm wasn't broken, was it? He didn't quite think so, but it was hard to imagine it could be much more painful if it were. What kind of person in their right mind did this for fun?
Then again, he wasn't entirely sure his opponent was in his right mind. From across the arena, he could hear the man howling with laughter that sounded positively gleeful. Clearly, an occasion to hurt someone was the sort of situation he thrived in. Seymour also noticed that he wobbled unsteadily in the saddle, and it seemed distinctly possible that his good mood had been enhanced by a copious amount of drinks prior to the start of the joust. Surely it couldn't be that hard to unseat him, if he could just manage to get a good strike in.
'Alright, think.' He commanded himself, his horse already maneuvering back into position. 'You need a good idea, and fast.'
Clearly, vision was not his friend in this situation. He didn't seem to have a single hope of aiming properly in the midst of struggling to make out the blurry form of his opponent, peering through a helmet, and bouncing around on the back of a large horse thundering at high speeds. He needed another way to know where exactly the other rider was coming from.
But he didn't have much time to think, and next thing he knew, the two of them were charging again, and his mind flooded with panic. How was he supposed to do this? It was his first time, he was much too small and scrawny for this, and he was up against the sort of man who decorated his shield with former contestants' teeth!
…His shield. His shield rattled. Okay. Okay, he could do this.
He only had a matter of seconds for his thoughts to click into place, but it seemed enough for instinct to take over. She squeezed his eyes shut and listened intently as the ominous sound raced closer and closer. He fumbled to get his lance into the right position, and just a moment later heard a loud, splintering crack.
Once he caught his breath back from another hard jolt up his arm, he could hardly bring himself to open his eyes again. It couldn't have really worked… could it?
The crowd had fallen completely silent, at least until the surprised murmuring started up again in full force. Slowly, finally, he turned around to look behind him, and was greeted by the sight of a rider-less horse and his opponent on the ground.
"Seymour!"
One voice rang out above all the others in the crowd, one he knew better than any other, and one that had never sounded more overjoyed. He looked back to see Audrey making her way down to see him, and began trying to dismount from his horse.
He was still struggling to manage wearing armor, not to mention that life seemed determined to make certain he could never have too much dignity at once, and he only managed to get one foot on the ground before he lost his balance and wound up face-down in the dirt. Audrey didn't seem to mind in the slightest, and reached down to help him. He had to pull his head out of the helmet before he could even start getting himself upright, and then the two of them managed to get him back up on his feet.
"Are you alright?"
Seymour nodded, his mind reeling so much that he couldn't manage to speak. He had a feeling that as soon as the adrenaline wore off he was going to be more sore than he'd ever been in his life, but even so he knew that he'd never been better. Audrey let out a breath of overjoyed laughter and threw her arms around him. He was too stiff to do much to return the gesture, and he couldn't wait to finally get out of all the constricting plates of metal. Though when Audrey lay her head on his shoulder, he also felt that he would be quite content to never move again.
But then movement caught his attention, and his eyes traveled over to the spot where Lord Scrivello was pulling himself to his feet as well. In a strange way, it might have been some relief if he had looked furious. Had he been stomping around, or yelling, or even glaring, Seymour would have been afraid of what he might do, but at least it would be an acknowledgement that his competitor had lost.
But instead, Orin looked at him with a level, certain stare, and the look in his eyes held one clear message. This wasn't over.