Engines & Demons - The Undestined

Chapter 31iii

Tahlia yawned.

"I do wish they would get on with it," she said. "What is taking so long?"

Grifford ignored her. All through the morning, his sister's constant complaining and stupidly obvious questioning had been grating on him. He had eventually decided that his best course would be to ignore her mutterings and deny her any form of answer, in case it provoked further comments.

On the dais, Master Hepskil had finished his greeting to Sir Gunthred and had stepped forward to face the crowd.

"Has he not done yet?" muttered Tahlia. "I do not think I can stand still for much longer."

"People of Klinberg!" The Council-master called. "The Pride-order has gathered on this day to witness the challenges for its prime command! In the months gone by we have mourned the sad passing of the greatest of us all, the Lord Morath, the salvation of the Pride-order at Wessvall, the voice of accord in our troubled lands, keeper of the peace and holder of our hunting grounds. His loss is a wound to us all, and a wound whose healing must start today..."

"Has he to go on so much?" Tahlia whispered.

"Oh will you shut up!" Grifford hissed back. "This is an important day, and I am sick of hearing you do nothing but complain!

Tahlia took a startled step back at the sudden venom in his voice.

"I am sorry, I was just..."

"Well stop. I have had enough!"

"Quiet, children!" came the cracked voice of Mistress D'almeria from behind them. "Show some respect to your father."

Grifford glared at his sister, then returned his attention to the events unfolding in the arena-field.

* * *

Council-master Hepskil stepped down to the grass of the arena-field. He turned to face the dais and the six Pride-commanders, who sat in their chairs with their steeds at one side, and their ladies at the other.

"Sir Unsaethel Anestar," he said, and his strong voice echoed across the whole of the battle-grounds. "Pride-commander of the Chapter of Katchewan, do you stand to challenge for the position of Grand-commander of the Fortress of Klinberg, to guard its lands and protect its people?"

The old knight stood to face Master Hepskil. He drew his curved broadsword from its scabbard and looked out at the people gathered around the field. His eyes passed over the ranks of knights standing in its centre, and the crowds gathered about its slopes, then he looked back down at the Order's Council-master.

"I do not stand," he said, and though his voice held some sorrow, it was still strong and proud.

He sat back down in his chair and laid his sword across his knees. His wife, her face still strong and her smile kind, laid a hand on his shoulder as the murmurs ran around the crowd. They were not the whispers of shock; merely the sound of quiet understanding.

Council-master Hepskil then turned to the chair of Sir Galder, who stood quickly in anticipation of the question.

"Sir Galder Kroken, Pride-commander of the Chapter of Vikas, do you stand to challenge for the position of Grand-commander of the Fortress of Klinberg, to guard its lands and protect its people?"

"I will stand," said Sir Galder, with barely a pause after the question had been asked.

He drew his own sword, stepped down from the dais, and thrust it into the earth at Master Hepskil's feet. The Council-master met the knight's gaze with a nod of acceptance, before the Pride-commander turned and retook his seat.