The Burden of Freedom

Chapter 5

It is the day of the first challenge, and I am dreading it more than anything. My heart feels heavy and my feet drag reluctantly, each step I make towards my seat a battle in itself.

If I feel this nervous for today, I can only imagine what the actual competitors feel like. I chew on the inside of my cheek without thinking, hand clutching the wooden railing as I climb the stairs of the royal arena.

The royal arena is located just inside the castle walls, a huge circular structure built entirely out of stone. Two sets of bleachers curve to meet each other, forming a round center where various competitions are held. The building has no ceiling, leaving the blue sky visible for all to see.

It's early afternoon, and although it's spring, the sun blazes. I wipe the sweat trailing down the side of my cheek, glad that Rose was smart enough to insist I put my hair up and off my neck.

Today, the seats are full of people, pressed together in the benches. It's the biggest and most diverse crowd I have ever seen. Some of them are noblemen, gold jewelry hanging from their necks, robes brilliant purples and vibrant blues. Others are common folk, dressed in threadbare clothing, dirt smudging their cheeks, grease covering their arms.

They all chatter with excitement, voices blending in a loud buzz. It is like the hum of a beehive I once found hanging on a tree in the courtyard.

I wish I were being chased down by a swarm of bees now. Anything would be better than having to sit here and watch this.

Though I'm not quite sure what this 'challenge' exactly is.

My father is a very eccentric man, obsessed with tournaments and challenges. Every December, he insists on holding a huge competition, complete with jousting, sword fighting, and archery. I had always been required to attend, and was forced against my will to watch overly stupid men do overly stupid things.

Now, I can expect anything.

I take my seat next to my father, giving him a little curtsey before I lower myself into the cushioned chair. Our area is boxed in by a little wooden fence, and the seats around us are cleared completely of civilians. The king has never enjoyed interacting with the general public.

Behind the anger in my chest, I can feel a thrum of panic. I push it down, gazing out into the center of the arena.

The contenders are already lined up, each sitting atop a horse and wearing a full suit of fine armor. Some smile and wave at the crowd, trying to gain cheers of support. Others try and catch my eye, but I pretend not to notice.

One man gives a little wave in my direction. I can barely recognize him from this distance, but I see the flash of copper under the silver helmet.

Leopold.

I don't wave back, but I do incline my head downward in a small nod.

"Welcome!" My father's voice is booming, the authority of his tone causing the chatter to die into silence in an instant. "Thank you for all that have decided to attend such a joyous occasion! This will be the first of many challenges you all must face."

I sink lower into my chair, as if that will help hide my face from the crowd of people.

"Today, we will be following the tradition that has been in practice for centuries, something that has been dear to my heart since I was a young boy."

Suddenly, I know what it is and my heart sinks, knowing that this could never end positively.

"Today is about strength, is about your skills with a sword, about your ruthlessness in combat. Today will be the test of the sword!"