The day of the great tournament had arrived, a bright day, like most in the days leading up to the grey, dreary winter. It was still cold, not unpleasantly cold, but the sort of cold that is on a still autumn day, no chill winds that can freeze a man solid, a calmness that is most pleasant to walk in.
Caius began making his way to the tournament grounds; they’d been set up outside of the city, though close enough that it wasn’t too much effort to get there. With him walked his father and he looked and sounded like the happiest man in the Empire. He’d chosen a black woollen outfit, with a brown cloak clasped with the Axe and Crescent. No armour though, clearly he didn’t intend to do any fighting.
The two arrived at the tournament about an hour before the tournament was due to start, but a large crowd of commoners had already gathered in the Poor Stands. The field itself consisted of jousting lists, a small field for a melee, and finally, in front of the Emperor’s box, an area for duels to take place. Caius couldn’t help but gaze in wonder at it.
“It must have cost him a lot to get this all set up.”
“Armius said that Varo was speechless when he saw the costs. But I suppose when you rule an empire at peace, you have the money to do this sort of thing. He was never careless with money when we were children.”
They found the Emperor and Varo looking from the Emperor’s box over the tournament grounds. Varo was shaking his head in awe.
“A quarter of the last year’s income. A quarter!”
“Come now, doesn’t it look marvelous Varo? Well worth the money spent? After all, you did help organise most of the construction once the architects were done designing it.”
He turned as Karlius and Caius approached and gave a smile. He was wearing much the same as Karlius, with a sword with a hilt of silver.
“Ah! Brother, I was just telling Varo how excellent a job he’s managed to do for me.”
Varo sniffed, before giving a small grin.
“Well obviously I did the job as well as I could, which is to say, almost flawlessly, but still, we haven’t spent this much at once since we had to rebuild the whole city!”
“As I recall, your face had the sort of look a fish gives as it dies when you saw the cost of that one.”
Varo muttered something about breaking something, but he turned away and headed over to where a few other men were standing and began talking to them. Caius left Karlius and the Emperor talking and headed across into the stands, found a decent seat not far from the Emperor’s own box and sat down, gazing over the commoners who had arrived in the hundreds and the nobles who were beginning to emerge from the distant city gates.
An hour later, the trumpets began to play and columns of mounted warriors entered the arena. There were young men and old men, some members of the great lords that held up the Empire, some mere fourth sons of fourth sons of backwater nobles, but still sought glory in front of the highest powers. The colours and crests and countless flashes of sunlight upon the bright armour transfixed all in that place and Caius most of all. He saw the Hawk in his Krannol Faceguard, Zalantor who rode no horse, but stood tall and proud, his handless arm crossed over his chest as a salute. He saw Arol with his Kaprean armour, riding like an equal with such magnificent men. Caius felt a small surge of pride as he saw him.
“Do you wish you could have a go at this?” A voice to his left muttered. He turned his head, and saw Varo sitting there, how he’d gotten there unseen was quite another matter.
“Sometimes. But then I remember every bruise and bump and painful whacks. My enthusiasm dims somewhat after that.”
“Don’t let the look of these people fool you. Half of them couldn’t hit a target with a sword if it was a corpse. I could probably beat a few of them simply by sitting on them.”
“Try that on my brother and you’ll see what you get.” A voice on Caius’ right said with a happy, though slightly nasally tone. He remembered vaguely that Kiro had taken a seat next to him but turned just to make sure. There he was, a thin, nearly gaunt looking boy, hardly looking like the brother of the great warrior upon the field in front of them. Caius couldn’t help but feel a little pity for him.
Varo on the other hand, was not as courteous.
“I’d be more tempted to try it on your sister Krannol, though knowing your family half of you already did.” Caius winced at that. It was an infamous tradition that the first person a Krannol’s daughter should lie with was her brother. Supposedly, Byron Krannol had five sisters and had practised the tradition on all five of them.
Kiro’s face turned sour and Caius heard a voice, merely a whisper, inside his head.
“Careful now fat man. You really should be careful who you insult. Especially if he’s a Krannol and especially if he’s a Host.”
Caius turned back around; Varo had his mouth slightly open in shock, before shaking his head and relaxing. Clearly he too had heard the disembodied voice. Though Caius had never actually been spoken to by an Aspect, he wasn’t expecting it to be as….unnerving as that.
“Forgive me, Kiro Krannol, it’s just the way I am.”
“You are forgiven.” Kiro said, his voice still slightly strained and a deathly silence fell. Fortunately, the Emperor chose this moment to stop admiring the warriors and instead stood up, and began to speak; projecting his voice as far as it would go.
“People of Amorta! It has been a long time since we had such an event happen in our lands. But today is a moment that must be celebrated. Today…one of our own came home.”
The crowd roared as Karlius stood up and waved, chants of ‘Axeborn, Axeborn, Axeborn!’ filling the whole arena. The Emperor raised his hand and slowly silence fell again.
“Today I invite all warriors of this great land to prove to all that they are worthy of being called ‘Heroes’. From the highest homes to the lowest ramshackle hut, all can achieve glory. And Karm knows, even the unlikeliest of fighters could attain glory upon an equal field. So to you brave warriors I say this. Trust in the strength of your arms, the speed of your legs and the loyalty of your followers above all else. But most of all, trust me, for I can grant you all the highest of honours.” He paused again, as all the knights pulled out their swords and axes and maces and presented them at the Emperor.
“And thus, let the tournament begin!” he said, thrusting his arms wide as if to give the whole audience a wide embrace. Another roar went up and it was truly deafening. The competitors sheathed their weapons and headed off to the competitor stands, with the horses being looked after by the various squires around the edges of the grounds.
The first event was a simple melee, with blunt blades used instead of sharp steel. It would likely spoil the mood if someone were to end up cut to pieces. Every one of the competitors was involved, even Silanus. Caius noticed Iro Krannol remove the clasp on his cloak and hand it to a nearby squire before taking a blunt sword from the nearby sword rack. He even managed to make a simple task like that seem heroic.
At the blow of a trumpet, the warriors charged out into the centre of the grounds and began to battle. The goal was simply to fight each other until only one was left standing. Caius watched Silanus, in a simple boiled leather jerkin, fending off a particularly large Gravesman who was wielding a mace. He handled himself well, and soon landed a blow or two into his opponent’s chest and arms. Blows to the face were disallowed for obvious reasons.
“That Krannol boy is certainly something.” Varo noted, pointing across the field. Two opponents of Iro Krannol lay stretched out on the dust, rolling around in clear pain. On he strode, one of his own retainers fell to him after a brief exchange. Caius had no doubt that he would have continued to stride on, had he not then come across Zalantor.
The general had already dispatched two opponents and turned to face Iro, his faceguard down. The two seemed to exchange words, and no other opponent dared to involve themselves in such a clash. Like a swift bird of prey catching a tailwind, Iro swept forward, slashing at Zalantor, trying to land any blow upon the giant of a man. But Zalantor fell back slowly, keeping out of reach of the blade before rushing forward, engaging Iro in blindingly fast swordplay. Yet, he was matched at every step by Iro, every feint anticipated, every step accounted for.
“That’s my brother for you.” Kiro said happily. But even as he spoke Zalantor feinted low, then high, then low again, before dropping his sword and diving forward, tackling Iro to the ground. The sword flew from the young man’s grasp and a collective gasp came from the audience. Zalantor pinned him to the ground with his massive hands around Iro’s wrists and soon released them, leaving the boy to pick himself up and make his way to the defeated area.
“That’s Zalantor for you.” Varo said, glancing at Kiro. “Meatheaded tactics that work because nobody would ever think of something so stupid. Rushing an armed man and trying to tackle him? Vintage Zalantor.”
The melee continued on, Zalantor himself went down to a vicious looking Gravesman, who in turn was smacked across the back of the legs by Silanus as he celebrated his victory. So Silanus won the melee, through fortune and skill, but he received a large cheer from the crowd nonetheless.
“Well fought.” Varo yelled above the applause.
“Indeed, that was a fine victory. Fortunate, but fine nonetheless.”
“It’s fortune that decides the fate of many men. After all, there was a chance that I could have hurt myself carrying scrolls today, the same applies to battle.”
“And what a shame it would have been to miss your wit.”
“Glad to see you agree, a tournament without my insightful commentary is no spectacle at all.”
“Why don’t you go down and fight and make a real spectacle of yourself?”
“Certainly, you can come and duel me. That will give the crowd something to laugh about, the Bastard and the Fat Man duelling with swords.”
“On second thoughts, maybe we should leave this to the actual warriors.” Caius muttered after a moment.
“Another brilliant idea, you are full of wisdom today Caius.” Varo noted as he stopped applauding the competitors.
Before Caius could reply, the second event began. Fortunately, very few people had been injured in the melee, so the jousting could continue. Silanus was not in this event; clearly allowing him to be in one fight was all the Emperor was willing to risk. In fact, the only real star of the jousting was Iro Krannol, Arol had never been very good at jousting and he wasn’t sure that Zalantor even rode a horse.
Sure enough, Iro defeated his first few opponents with ease. The Falcon faceguard made him instantly recognisable, and he noticed quite a few eligible ladies give a small cheer every time he entered the list. Eventually, after dozens of jousts, the last two remained. Iro Krannol against the Emperor’s Master of Horse, Lord Solir. The Hawk’s mount headed down the list like a particularly graceful bird, yet Solir’s proud steed rode just as fast. The lances met at the centre of the lists and there was a crash and splintering of lances. Iro reeled under the blow, yet managed to stay on, eliciting gasps from the crowd. Solir also reeled, yet he too managed to stay on. The second run was even tenser; the two clashed again, this time Solir catching the lance full in the chest. He clutched onto the reins for dear life and held on again.
On the third pass, Iro’s lance hit him once more, sending him flying back off the horse onto the dirt below. Iro rushed past, the crowd cheering as Solir slowly staggered back to his feet, helped up by two nearby attendants. Iro came to a stop near him and dismounted, shaking his hand vigorously, before turning to face the Emperor.
“Iro Krannol, your skill is undisputed. I hereby grant you a silver chalice, may you treasure it always.” Iro accepted with a bow and headed off, side by side with Lord Solir. Kiro Krannol was grinning from ear to ear at the victory.
“That was great!” he said, before shouting above the applause, “Excellent fighting Iro!”
“That was total luck.” The Aspect complained, clearly deliberately making sure Caius could hear them.
“Oh, shut up you miserable-“Kiro was interrupted by the Aspect again.
“He almost lost to an old man. In fact, he lost the melee to an old man!”
“The tricky thing about aspects is,” Varo said, without turning his head. Clearly he’d been privy to the conversation.
“They really, really like complaining. I’ve met quite a few hosts and their aspects always complained about everything. They even complained about the food, when they don’t need to eat anything!”
The argument would have continued but the Emperor stood up and the audience fell silent.
“My people! This tournament has truly been a joy to watch, I hope that you yourselves also enjoyed it! A round of applause for the winners of the melee and the joust!”
There was a roar and loud applause for Silanus and Iro, who both stood up and bowed to the crowd.
“But now, my brother suggested that we have a duel to show our brotherly love for each other. However we ae both quite old and quite drunk, so we have decided to nominate two champions to fight for us.”
He pointed to his left.
“I nominate Zalantor to be my champion.”
Karlius stood as well and cleared his throat.
“I nominate Arol to be my champion.”
A roar went up from the crowd as Zalantor and Arol stepped down from the stands, armed with a sword and shield and stood facing each other, faceguard’s down on their helmets.
Caius tensed as he saw Arol. He wasn’t entirely sure that Arol could beat Zalantor, the giant had after all taken down Iro Krannol.
The Emperor sat back down and nodded once. The two began circling each other, each taking the measure of the other. Though Caius suspected they’d been sizing each other up over the last week anyways. Arol hadn’t taken part in any of the competitions that day, probably because he wanted to tire Zalantor out before he faced him.
If that was his hope, it was soon dashed, as Zalantor rushed forward, thrusting forward his shield as he did so. Arol leapt back to avoid being smacked by the shield, then rushed forward, dealing blow upon blow on Zalantor’s shield. The giant weathered the storm, before returning his own blows. Arol blocked some with the shield, switching to the sword to parry the others.
A bit of showmanship there, Caius thought to himself.
After a bit more back and forth the two parted and Zalantor sheathed his sword, leaving his hand free to unhook his shield. Arol did likewise, so now the two would fight with sword alone. They moved forward again, this time cautiously, the margin for error was much greater now. And as they duelled upon the dirt, to the admiration and gasps from the crowd, Caius became aware of the sound of marching feet.
He tore his eyes from the fight, and at the entrance of the grounds was marching a column of men, three abreast. He nudged Varo, who was also transfixed on the fight. He looked up and Caius thought he heard a low growl from the man’s jowls.
“What are they doing?” the steward muttered as the column marched right across the Emperor’s box, cutting off the crowd from the fighters. Both of them stopped fighting and turned to face the oncoming group. The Emperor himself stood as a short looking man marched from the front of the column to the middle, to face the Emperor. He was wearing a helmet that covered most of his face, but it left his mouth clear so he could still be heard. His armour had the look of silver; it glittered in the glorious sunshine, the chainmail like a million tiny stars. His shoulder pads were plate, as were his leg guards, but the rest was the chainmail. Caius leaned over to Varo.
“Who is that?”
“The Captain of the Veteran Guard.”
“What, nothing else to tell me?”
“If I knew his name, I’d say. I asked him once and I got a steely glare, harder than his armour. It’s a special kind that they give to the veteran guard. It’s old Karathi kind of steel making. Makes it hold just that little bit stronger.”
The Captain strode forward, his hand upon his sword hilt.
“Your majesty! Can it be that you consider the Guard inadequate to keep the Empire safe? Because I can’t see any other reason that you would choose Zalantor over any of these men!”
“Captain if you felt lonely, all you needed to do was to ask, I would happily have given you a seat.” Karlius called out, earning him a disapproving glance from the Emperor.
“You wish to prove that Zalantor is not the man to represent me?” The Emperor replied.
“Indeed. The guard will nominate a champion to fight both Zalantor and the whelp that he was about to crush.” That earned him Arol’s annoyed glare.
“And who is this champion?” The Emperor asked.
“Their captain.” The reply came, and he cast aside his shield. He then drew his sword, as did the rest of the guard and shouted to the sky,
“Axeborn! Axeborn! We are your chosen, to keep your mighty empire safe! We shall not falter, we shall never yield, though our bodies be pierced with shot, our shields cloven, our weapons notched and blunted. We endure and while we endure, there shall be no end to Karm’s Empire.” Caius felt a small chill as they finished, he had little doubt that they would fulfil that oath.
Zalantor and Arol glanced at each other, before turning back to the Captain, their swords at the ready.
The Emperor shrugged and sat back down, all three of them taking the cue to fight. The Captian strode forward confidently, though he was at least a head shorter than Zalantor. The two decided to split up and attack him from both sides, but the Captain was clearly too clever for that. He rushed at Arol, perhaps sensing that he was slightly uneasy. He moved incredibly quickly for how heavy his armour looked, delivering devastating slashes that Arol barely managed to block.
Then he moved in closer, as Arol reeled under another blow he slipped under his guard and grabbed hold of Arol’s sword arm and twisted, hard. He gave a yelp of pain and dropped the sword, and as he did the captain head-butted him. He tumbled backwards, and while not unconscious was unable to drag himself out of the dust.
The Captain then turned on Zalantor. The two stared at each other for a moment before rushing forward with roars and delivering a ferocious rally of blows. It was similar to the duel with Iro Krannol earlier, only made ten times as incredible to watch. Zalantor had stepped up a notch, his short sword moved as a blur. Yet the Captain moved at the same speed, he used both of his hands to hurl devastating blows and to hold rock solid defences.
For a few minutes this continued, while Arol tried to drag himself away from the melee. Then came the definitive moment. Zalantor feinted and at the speed they were fighting the Captain fell for it. He dived low and drove the sword towards the exposed gut area. There was a clanging sound of metal on metal and silence fell, save a few gasps from the crowd.
The Captain dropped his sword and gazed down at where the sword had hit. Then, he reached out a gauntlet and grabbed Zalantor by the throat, who dropped his sword in surprise. As it fell, the whole crowd saw that it was utterly free of blood.
“Karathi craftsmanship indeed. I often wonder why the Emperor felt the need to slaughter them.” Varo muttered.
The Captain tore Zalantor’s helmet from his head, the blonder hair falling to his shoulders, his face a picture of bemusement.
“You’ve had your blow.” The Captain shouted so the crowd could hear, though Caius sensed a small note of pain, perhaps the sword had cracked a rib.
“And now I’ll have mine.” He finished, and drove a fist into Zalantor’s face. The general crumpled to the ground as the sound of the impact echoed around the stadium. There was a silence and then applause from all around the stadium, the crowd was clearly impressed by the display. The Captain turned and picked up his sword and shield and bowed before the Emperor, before leading his troop out of the grounds and back into the city.
As squires rushed onto the field and tended to the unconscious Zalantor and the by now upright Arol, the Emperor stood and his voice boomed from the box.
“My people, I hope you enjoyed the entertainment and I think we all should celebrate the winners today and wish General Zalantor a good recovery. To all of you, I say long live the Empire and long live my brother!”
A cheer went around the stadium and the people began filing out, muttering excitedly about the tournament. And why not, it was certainly one of the more entertaining ones Caius had ever seen.
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Re: Empire and Republic (Updated Chapter 8 11th January)
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