Dodson woke before the bell to the sound of wood scraping in his hearth. He opened a weary eye. His room looked the same: the oak wardrobe stood in the corner by his window, his weapons rack was directly to the right of his bed and it held newly-cleaned weapons, the entrance to his privy and dressing room was still dark, and a Yamani painting of a forest hung above his head. Finally he looked directly in front of the bed to his hearth. Someone crouched their, stoking the embers of his fire.

Groggily Dodson swung his feet out of bed and sat up. The early morning sun's rays were just beginning to filter through his window.

"Good morning," he yawned to the palace servant. The servant jerked around. Dodson was shocked to be looking at a clean Oluf. The older boy's cuts were now new, pink skin. The shadows on his gold-skinned face were mostly gone. He was more filled out and didn't look so starved. He had even washed and brushed his dark brown hair.

"Oh…Hello, Oluf," Dodson said awkwardly. Briskly he turned to pound on the wall connecting his room to Cedric's. "Ced, Get up!"

"Five more minutes," came the muffled reply, as if Cedric's head was buried in his pillow.

Dod grinned and turned to Oluf, who was huddled in the corner by his door.

"I didn't expect to see you hear," he announced to the servant.

Oluf shrugged. "King Jonathan give me good job, since I jut come from Isles."

Dodson shrugged in return. It made sense. Oluf, having nowhere to go, needed a job and a home.

"Well, Oluf, I thank you for keeping me warm. If you need anything, just let me know." He rose from his bed and winced when his feet touched the cold floor. Bracing himself, he lunged over to the small rug by his desk and landed on his feet. "Now if you would excuse me, Cedric and I have a tournament today, and I require some time to prepare."

Oluf nodded mutely. "As you say, Sir." In a moment, he was out the door.

Once again Dodson reached over to pound on the wall and summon Cedric from his slumber. "Cedric! Today's tournament day!"
"I'm up! I'm up!" Dodson heard Cedric jump out of bed and heard his yelp as he, too, experienced the cold flagstones.

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They met outside their doors before breakfast. Cedric's hair was wet from washing, and Dodson had scrubbed his cheeks pink.

"How tough do you think Markus will be?" Cedric asked his friend. Dodson laughed.

"Not worried, are you Ced?" He ran his fingers through his forelock.

"Not one bit," Cedric replied steadily. "But you must be aware," he punched Dodson lightly, "that Markus is bigger than I, and Foster is smaller than you."

"Come now, good Sir," Dodson shoved his hands in his breeches pockets and looked around. "Do not tell me this is a contest between us. We're partners. Best friends."

Cedric smiled and started walking towards the stairs. "We waiting for someone?" he joked.

"Yes, actually," Dodson said distractedly. "King Jonathan said that he would meet us here with the Lioness and Raoul of Goldenlake."

"Now you've gone and made me feel stupid. Why are they meeting us here?"

"Well--"

"Ah, boys, good of you to wake." The King and his friends appeared from around the far corner of the page's and squire's wing. "I thought that perhaps we should have a little meeting before your first tournament. Come on."

Slightly confused, Cedric and Dodson followed the knights into the main palace and up into the war room. Everyone made themselves comfortable.

"Now that we have experts in your area, boys, do you have any questions?" Jon settled back. It was hard for his squires to remember that he was the king.

After the silence stretched out for several long moments, Cedric cleared his throat tentatively.

"Well…uh…I was wondering whether I should spread out my weight to balance, or hone it on one place, considering my larger opponent." Cedric grimaced. He thought he knew the answer, but didn't want to seem ungrateful.

"Well, Cedric, that is a controversial question, believe it or not." Raoul laughed and rose from his chair. "Come with me. I have a match in an hour or so. You can help me arm up, and we can discuss the finer points." He slung an arm around Cedric's shoulders and led him from the room.

Now just Dodson, Jon, and Alanna were left.

"Any questions, Dod?" Alanna asked patiently.

Dodson pondered for a moment. "Now that I think of it…I don't really need an answer. I could figure it out on my own, but I may as well…Foster and I are built on pretty much the same lines. Should I use my strength or my skill?"

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People started filing into the stands. Dodson took no notice of them as he stretched and limbered. Real armor was not worn in tournament fencing matches; instead, padded armor was donned by the participants. Before he slid the padded cloth helm over his head, Dodson looked around. His knight masters were sitting in the high-ranking noble area with a good view of the fight. Cedric sat with them. He could see his other friends, along with other people he knew, in the stands. Foster was leaning against the fencepost, pale and scowling at him. Markus was nowhere to be seen.

A herald trotted out to the center of the arena. Dodson and Foster walked to him.

"Do both of you boys swear to adhere to the laws of chivalry and honor? You know the rules of the tournament." Both boys nodded. "Then you may begin on my command."

The herald backed away. He waited until the squires were in position before he shouted: "Guard!"

Foster swerved around Dodson's immediate attack and drove for the taller boy's stomach. Dodson blocked easily and swung his blade around and feinted a cut. He quickly jabbed forward. Foster rolled just in time to not lose right away. Staying low, the redhead took swipes at Dodson's feet. Panting slightly, Dodson jumped over the blur that was Foster's sword. Foster scrambled to his feet. Before he had time to raise his weapon, Dodson had his blade pressed against his opponent's throat. It was over.

"And Dodson of Akins wins!" Declared the herald from behind that fence. The stands erupted in cheers.

Grinning victoriously, Dodson removed his helmet and stored it under his arm. He held out a hand to Foster. "Good match."

Foster scowled and turned away. He returned to his knight master, Douglass of Veldine, who was counting coins into Jon's hand.

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Fully armored, Cedric waited alone by Rafe before his match. He and Raoul had settled on a technique. Now he watched Markus lead his dun stallion onto the tilting field. All of Cedric's knight masters and friends were watching him. He wasn't very worried.

The herald rode out and confirmed that rules to them. Markus smirked at Cedric. Quickly Cedric led Rafe back to the mounting post and waited for the herald's call. Finally it came. He swung into the saddle and Markus did the same. As soon as he was settled, he urged Rafe into a gallop and slid his feet into his stirrups. Soon Markus's shield loomed in front of him, coming closer. With the art of practice, Cedric leaned forward and put his weight into his stirrups, couching his lance into the crook of his arm. Just as Markus was about to hit, Cedric's stirrup leathers snapped. The blond boy fell heavily into his saddle and swayed, barely staying atop his horse. Without thinking, he clutched the saddle with his thighs and put all of the force he could muster behind his lance. He hit Markus squarely, and barely moved when his opponent's lance rammed his shield. Markus went flying into the air and landed with a clatter of plate armor.

"Foul!" Shouted Raoul and Gary together. "Those stirrups were meddled with!"

Several heralds hurried onto the field to check on Markus. Another helped Cedric off his horse.

"Alright, lad?" he asked Cedric. The squire nodded. "That was quite a feat to stay in that saddle, boy. You have lead in your behind." He slapped Cedric on the shoulder and led Rafe away.

Jon, Alanna, Gary, Raoul, and Dodson rushed onto the field, clapping his back in congratulations and admiration.

"That was cheating," Alanna growled finally. Quickly Jon ushered them off to a bath and supper.
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Turomot of Wellam peered at Markus of Vester over the top of his podium.

"Do you, Markus of Vester, plead guilty to intentional cheating at a royal tournament, which could have resulted in the loss of fifteen gold nobles and possible injury or death in your opponent's part?"

Markus, after being nudged by his knight master, nodded forlornly.

"So be it," muttered Turomot. "Your punishment is banishment from Court for two years and expulsion from your knight training."

People in the courtroom gasped. Wordlessly Markus was led to the door. Before he left, he cast Foster an accusing, betrayed look. Court was adjourned.