Chương 116: The Lists

After taking our pheasant skewers, we set off toward the lists, walking as quickly as we could while eating. The actual jousting grounds were still at the edge of the camp, far enough away from the castle and anything else that a crowd could gather in the fields around it—instead of trying to pack the audience risers with people, we could just gather in the fields around, watching at our own leisure.

Thegns and their families gathered in the covered stands on the north side, shields hanging off the edge to boast their presence, and the messenger we'd escorted had his own platform, where he would judge the tournament. We approached a fence at the edge of the arena, then bunched in to get a closer look. It looked like what I expected, and I'd helped construct the arena, so I knew most of what to expect.

Now, though, a massive lattice on the far side displayed round shields with the insignias of the noble houses competing. Sixty-three shields exactly. All belonged to thegns, who would take over the domain and start a new branch of their house if they won. Lord Ceonwin's presence was assumed. Just beneath the shields, a wooden gate separated the lists from a stable. The colourful livery of thegns shone through the gaps between wooden boards, and I watched intently, waiting for any of them to present themselves.

Lord Ceonwin rode onto the lists first, trotting his horse across the loose dirt, then shouted, "Welcome, all, to the Urcia joust!" How degrading it must have been to be forced to put on a smile and give a herald's performance, while being forced to test your strength and prove your loyalty to a ruler who just wanted you gone. I almost felt second-hand anger. Not almost. I did. My fingers tightened enough that they splintered the wooden skewer holding my pheasant meat.

It was a durable skewer, and I wouldn't have been able to accomplish that without the System's help increasing my Strength.

"Levi," Anchor hissed.

"Your lunch's getting cold."

"It's very tasty, brother," Brawl added.

"I can't say I've ever tried this before."

"You're tasting cumin," Sage said.

"Perhaps a little cinnamon."

"You guys have those spices?" I asked.

"Indeed," Sage replied.

"I've tasted them before, of course." I took a bite from the end of my skewer, pulling the meat off, then tasted it. Soft, cooked-through, and sweet and savoury and spicy in the best ways. It was a welcome break from the dull rations, and in a matter of seconds, I gobbled it down.

"You know, we can't just eat meat. We're going to have to find some bread and veggies somewhere."

"Why do you say vegetables like that?" Sage asked.

"Uh, thing from my world, I guess. You guys don't say 'veggies'."

"Perhaps my mother did once." I sighed, then turned back to the jousting grounds. Lord Ceonwin trotted his horse across, welcoming all the lords in particular who had come to visit. None were participating in the joust, but plenty came to watch their sons compete. After he finished introducing them, he paused. A moment later, a rushed and out-of-breath Lord Hinlaw rushed up the back stairs of the stands. He still wore his armour and riding gear, but he settled into a seat. I grinned.

"Ohhhh."

"Now you see why my father was rushing it?" Sage asked smugly.

"He wanted to stress out Hinlaw, who had just arrived?"

"I wouldn't phrase it like that, but yes." After a few seconds, Lord Ceonwin announced, "This is a trial-joust. Accordingly, the rules are adjusted to match the circumstances. All who wish to test themselves against me for this domain must prove their proficiency as Path-walkers. Bonded horses are allowed, as is enchanted armour. Arts are acceptable if they help you stay on your horse or thrust your lance, but anything more is not permitted. Ties will be settled with a trial by sword, spear, or axe.

Are there any objections?" The crowd was silent.

"Then allow me to present the contestants," he said, motioning to the wooden gate. It creaked open, and the rest of the riders trotted through in orderly lines. They formed two lines behind Lord Ceonwin, decked out in their armour, and holding shields with their house crests. This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon. All the crests were black on a colourful background, and they were usually an animal of some sort.

But you could always tell which one was a druid—their shields had leaves and or vines on them. As well, all the riders carried wooden jousting lances. Ceremonial flags hung off the tips, fluttering in the breeze.

"There will be six rounds, and only one victor," Lord Ceonwin announced.

"Single elimination. The rules will be judged according to the Western Guide." The messenger held out a leatherbound book, its cover imprinted with the image of a lance.

"The first three tilts shall begin today," Lord Ceonwin continued.

"As the challenged lord, it is my duty to ride the first match."

"Lord Ceonwin rides against Sir Oswiu," the messenger announced.

"All others, save for retainers of the relevant riders, must exit the lists." Lord Ceonwin trotted to the far side, and Sir Oswiu—a thegn in utilitarian chainmail, scale mail, and a red jupon—rode to our side. He only had one squire, and the boy took the flag off his lance. I felt bad for Sir Oswiu, but at the end of the day, we needed Lord Ceonwin to win—at any cost. And I hated how little of it was actually in my hands.

"How strong is Oswiu, brother?" Brawl asked Anchor.

"A Silver," Anchor replied.

"Closer to Gold than not, though, and he's a wicca." I figured wicca would be better at jousting than sorcerers or druids, but what did I know? I didn't even know the rules very well.

"Any of you know the rules of jousting?" I asked.

"Perfectly?" Anchor shrugged.

"No."

"You hit the other man with a lance, Brother," Brawl said.

"You break it." I sighed. He wasn't wrong, but there had to be more to it than that.

"They must run four courses. You get a point for breaking a lance on your opponent's shield or body," Sage said.

"Two points for breaking a lance on the helmet, or for knocking it off in general." I glanced at the two contestants' armour. They weren't wearing plates. How could they even survive a lance hit? Plus, their helmets weren't perfect for covering their faces. It wasn't exactly the knight gear I knew for jousting back home. Lord Ceonwin pulled up a balaclava of chainmail, which rippled with enchantments and covered his nose and mouth. Then he pulled a standard helmet on overtop.

It boasted golden ornaments on its sides, with markings that reminded me of a raven's wings. Sir Oswiu donned similar gear. It would help, sure, and now there was only a thin eye slit for wood chips to pierce through, but chainmail wasn't going to stop a blunt impact from caving in your skull if it hit anywhere beneath the eye guard. But then again, we were dealing with Silvers and Golds who had enhanced their bodies and skeletons beyond measure.

They were far more durable than I could imagine, and that had to help when it came to jousting.

"You get three points for unhorsing your opponent," Sage continued.

"Unless, of course, your horse falls with you—then it is deemed to be partially the horse's fault, and your opponent only gets two points."

"What if no one breaks a lance?" I asked.

"Then you jousted poorly," she said.

"Both are eliminated from the tournament." I nodded. As we watched, Ceonwin's squires handed him a lance, and the messenger raised a flag. After a few seconds, he dropped it, and the riders charged, horses galloping at each other from opposite sides of the tilt fence. I watched, clenching my gut. Lord Ceonwin took a blow on the shoulder and broke his lance on his opponent's shield. The crowd roared with excitement, and people cheered.

I wasn't sure what to do, so I clapped, but that caught a few skeptical glances from the other civilians gathered around in the fields. Alright, then. No clapping. Despite his early luck, Sir Oswiu didn't fare well in the next three courses. He and his horse grew tired quickly, and they never landed another hit, let alone broke a lance. On the other hand, Lord Ceonwin broke two more lances on Oswiu's shield, then one more on the man's helmet.

For each broken lance, the messenger placed one or two flags in a slot, marking a point for Ceonwin.

"My father is a skilled jouster," Sage said.

"There's no need to worry."

"I'm going to worry," I said.

"If he fails, this isn't going to be good. You heard what Anchor said. If Hinlaw's son, or someone else loyal to the Warlord, gets this domain, we'll be screwed. He'll let the orcs have their way with this place."

"Not to mention…if he does manage to scare the rest of the nation into giving him vast emergency powers, if he shreds the Great Charter…" Anchor shook his head.

"There won't be much worth saving."

"What's the Great Charter?" I asked.

"A document written by Aelfwine," Anchor replied.

"It limits the powers of the king and the Warlord, it outlines the rights of the common man, it dictates what powers are left to the Ealdormen and what powers should go to the councils of wisemen, rather than the king." I nodded.

"So, like, a constitution?"

"You mean…the composition of something, brother?" Brawl asked.

"It's not translating properly," I said.

"I get it, though. I think." I backed away from the fence.

"I don't need to see the rest of the jousts. I can't help but stress about something I can't affect." But, as I turned away, Anchor's words haunted me. The last thing I wanted was to have to spend my new life living under the boot of people like the Subtle Men—if I even survived the engineered fall of Southern Gate. I couldn't let that happen. And Lord Ceonwin, whether he saw the threat or not, wasn't going to be strong enough to save us on his own.

If there was truly a conspiracy to remove him from power, his opponents would see it done no matter what. I had to be prepared. And I had to start making preparations of my own. I needed to own land, fast. I needed to become a thegn.