The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Thirteen: The Tournament

It seemed the whole kingdom came to see the tournament. Since it was a celebration of the forge and the steel it produced, it was a melee tournament. There were no jousting tournaments at the Festival of Steel. Those were for another time. Thirty-two challengers were said to be present, but there was only one whom everyone was certain will win.

The battleground was a large dirt pit, surrounded by high-rise seats and fences for the commoners to lean against and watch. In each of the fence-posts was the flag bearing the sigil of the fighter's house: from the Book of Laws of House Froyer to the Red Rose of House Bailor. The tournament was still two hours away, but already the fences were lined with peasants eager to see a fight.

"So many people hungry for blood," Helg said to Sir Julius, who busily sharpening his sword. He already was suited up; thick plate armor with the Black Sunrise of House Cassius covering his breastplate and the sun's flame reached around his shoulders and waist as if protecting him on all sides.

"A little excitement in the mundane life of a peasant," Julius said, not in a supercilious fashion but rather of relief that he was not born as one of them, "I could never lead that life."

"And so many crave the excitement of being a knight."

"Would you trade it for anything else?"

"I don't know," Helg pondered, "I suppose this is the worst life besides all the others."

Julius laughed, "Oh, my dear Helg. If you look around and think you only see shit, that's all you'll ever see or feel."

"I don't see shit when I see you," Helg threw his arm around Julius' neck and ruffled his hair. The Knight of the Black Sun smiled, turned his head and their lips met.

"You are so terribly pessimistic half the time."

"And the other half?"

Julius stood up and sheathed his sword, "You're... something the other half of the time. Why don't you join the melee? I need some good competition."

"You'll have some decent fighting here," Helg smiled smugly, "You're looking to dominate me on at least one front."

"Perhaps," Julius gave Helg a good pat on his ass, "Maybe Chester or one of the others will give me a challenge."

"I heard Arhan Saud's sellsword is participating as well. Said to be one of the finest warriors in Useria."

"Userians," Julius scoffed, "dressing up in sheets and waving around bent swords."

"He's probably got more combat experience than you. Definitely more so than myself."

"Well, you've never fought in a major war."

"I've fought outlaws. I led the attack on Red Dog!

"I could've taken the Red Dog when I was twelve," Julius teased.

"I was seventeen at the time! I was just out of school!"

"When I was out of school I could have taken six Red Dogs, after an hour in the tavern."

Helg was about to reply, but he hushed up and composed himself. A malicious grin came across his mouth, "You'll have your chance to prove that when we face the Morcars. If you're as good as you say you can cut down thirty without so much as releasing sweat."

"Can't say," Julius humbly admitted, about as humble as he ever got around Helg, "All I know about the Morcars is what my mother and wet nurse told me; scary men who have children with beasts and who drag little girls from their beds to be impregnate them with more beast children."