Cinderfall

The Beginning Part 1

She wondered if he would be there today. He had to be, it was the yearly fall tournament and it would be improper if he were not to attend. Every noble in the kingdom would come either to fight, which there were various reasons for, or come as observers. This could be beneficial in many ways. For smaller families, fighters could bring a small amount of fame and prestige to their house that would have otherwise been overlooked in the year. For the larger families it was a superiority battle, showing that they were not only the most influential, but also the best in combat.

For those who only had their skill to recommend them, the fall tournament was the same as a job interview between them and the spectators. The spectators came not only for entertainment of course. It was more as a way to flaunt their houses' power at each other and to expand their power by acquiring the talent shown by the competitors. It was held, as it was held every year at the grand palace by order of the king.

Surely he would have to come? At least as an observer, though she knew he was talented enough to easily make the top four of the competition if not win the whole thing. She suspected he wouldn't compete. If he won, no one would trust the results. The challengers would consider it cheating based on the benefit of his training, and the spectators would only assume that the rest of the competitors had gone easy on him. How could they not? No one wants to hurt the son of the king.

Still, he would have to come at least to observe, and she needed to shine if she was going to see him again. She fastened her breastplate in place, though it took a few tries. Her hands were trembling. Whether it was from anxiety or excitement, she didn't know. Probably both.

It took a few tries to get the arm plates on, but eventually they were secure as well. She was glad that she had picked light armor for today. Most of the bits consisted of sturdy worked leather, with only slight steel plating strategically placed at her vitals. It looked like an oddly mismatched patchwork, as though she had scrounged for pieces of armor from discarded remnants instead of the carefully polished sets her competitors wore. Still, it acted exactly how she designed it to serve and was all it needed to be. It was a hot day for spring, nearly body temp, and the light armor was a blessing.

The sword and the knife she wore today were also roughly her design, though she had to be thankful to the blacksmith for making them as beautifully as he did. She couldn't draw for the life of her and she was sure her instructions were haphazard at best, but the weapons were perfect. The sword was slightly shorter than what would be considered typical, with a wider base and a thinner tip. At the base were two notches with tapered openings. The knife looked about the same, but with notches from the base to the tip. She wouldn't wear a shield for this. She knew most of the competitors would, but that would be their mistake.

The next contestants were called.

"Group 7: Lord Gavin of Firesbane and Lord Ashford of Cinderfall. Please take your places in the arena."

She was up. With a slow exhale, she placed the knife securely in her belt and pulled her sword from its sheath. She hadn't had much time to test the blade before this day, and was relieved at the skill of the blacksmith. It was as light as she had hoped, at least a couple pounds lighter than a regular broadsword, and felt perfectly balanced in her hand.

"You don't even need me to win, do you?" she whispered sweetly at the blade. She knew it would not answer her, that would be silly, but with the notches forming a sly grin at the hilt, she was certain the blade was in agreement.

She didn't see him when she first walked out. The crowd was even larger than the previous year, and she wasn't sure that he'd sit in the king's box. She did however see her competitor. Lord Gavin, a poorly aging second son of a baron in the northern corner of the country. He wore a full set of armored plate, well made but poorly fitted to the newly acquired bulk of its owner. His longsword was held between both his sweaty hands, the hilt bearing the sigil of the Firesbane family. They hadn't even started and he was red-faced.