Author Artemis
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Chapter 158 - The Knight's Tournament
🕑 Added 2025-12-12 19:00:07 +0000 UTCThe entire city was buzzing and pulsing with festivity as the end of Winter was celebrated and the arrival of Spring was heralded. Every tasca and restaurant was packed starting as soon as the sun rose and late into the night. Food and drink stalls lined the wide boulevards, and even the refugees, with their odd hair colors, were included in the party, everyone shoving food and drink into each others’ hands. There was at least one musician on every corner, and bards from all over the Kingdom flocked to Cordova at this time of the year to perform. Even the lowest leveled of them earned enough from tips to support themselves the entire rest of the year.
The weather was perfect.
The sun was warm, but not overbearing. A light, constant breeze carried away unpleasant odors and cooled anyone who felt the slightest bit too warm. Puffy white clouds dotted the sky, making the normal blue even more vibrant.
James walked in the procession next to the Steward as the Knights left their Headquarters, paraded throughout the entire city, and eventually arrived at mid-morning at the Colosseum. The arena was a truly massive stone edifice, oval shaped, built by stone masons hundreds of years ago when the Kingdom of Iberteria had just been founded, and its borders barely extended beyond the plains and nearby hills. Dozens of rows of seating rose hundreds of feet into the air, and tens of thousands of people crammed inside to get just a glimpse of the Tournament of Duels.
It was the people who couldn’t even get inside the Colosseum today who lined the streets to see the Knights in all their splendor before they went off to battle, with their own internal pecking order on the line.
James was fully armed and armored himself, though his lord had insisted on an open faced helmet that revealed at least some of his blonde hair. After progressing his [Mailleing] Skill working on the Knight’s Tournament armor, he had spent some time making his own chain mail, and working the kinks out of his theoretical process for enchanting it.
The results were… underwhelming, in the Smith’s professional opinion. The enchantments rolled onto each wire were distorted when he bent them into links, and although having so many enchanted links did form a massive set, which helped, the links weren’t perfectly uniform, so the overall effect wasn’t as large as he’d have liked.
The process needed further refinement.
Though James never stopped to consider that wearing chain mail enchanted with anything at all is an incredible feat, never mind that it was enchanted with [Barrier]
[Appraisal]: Lux-saturated Compressed Grade A White Steel Chain Mail, Quality: Journeyman, Durability: 54, Enchantment: Barrier—Intermediate (40)
He had been aiming for (90) on the enchantment power score, but the mail was so time-consuming to produce he’d stopped at his first prototype.
The rest of his armor was even more absurd, and he had his full tool belt equipped, and he walked with his Steel Bastard War Hammer in hand, resting against his shoulder, more as a statement and because it was distinctive than because it was his deadliest War Hammer.
To the magically sensitive, he was the second heaviest weight on reality as he walked along the street, behind his lord.
But other than lingering feelings of wanting to do better on his next set of chain mail, there were two letters on his mind, distracting him from paying attention to his surroundings.
The first, was a letter from the Corto Town Magistrate. It was a final report into the investigation of the Dungeon in which James had been trapped.
After their departure, a search party had been organized between the local Adventurer’s Guild Branch and the detachment of mages that had been in Corto researching a change in the leylines in the mountains. After a couple days of searching, they had found the entrance to the Dungeon near where James had been found by the Knight.
But the Dungeon was already in an advanced state of collapse and death.
They had hurried to explore, and did confirm there were no traps at least on the first floor. But the first floor boss never respawned. The remains of a stone golem lay there still, and the staircase to the next floor had collapsed into nothingness. Digging out the rocks that filled the staircase only led to more rocks and dirt.
The shattered remains of what may have been a shield and hammer were also found, abandoned.
Within a week, the Dungeon core finished dying, and the Dungeon collapsed, reverting to the small cave it had been originally, near a confluence of natural ley-lines that had been disturbed within the last two years.
The search after that had been exhaustive, until dozens of miles away they found the remains of the slave camp.
It was beyond the formal borders of Iberteria, in a no-man’s land between several other countries, and indeed the campsite was cursed, and a portion of the mountain face was Cursed Dragon-Fire Melted Stone.
The mages had determined that this was indeed the source of the leyline disturbance, but…
That was it.
There was nothing else to determine. No more evidence. No more leads.
James felt some satisfaction that there was evidence he wasn’t just making everything up.
But he wondered what he should do next.
If he cleared his debt to the Knight, should he go to the campsite and attempt to find his way home? Retrace the journey of months with that bandit who had enslaved him?
It might take a year or more to accomplish. And in the meantime, would he drag Isabella with him? Or leave her behind?
And before even considering that, there was the second letter, from Isabella herself.
Somewhat jealous of James’ ability as an Enchanter, and the synergy he had with his Smithing Class, she too had pursued enchantment of metal goods.
It didn’t go very well, in most cases.
She simply lacked the strength to etch deeply into metal, and lacked an understanding of the material.
There were two exceptions: one small, and one large.
The small exception was jewelry and accessories. Gold is a soft metal, and easily worked even by those who aren’t Smiths. Using the purest gold, she could produce enchantments that rivaled what James could produce. Silver was harder, but still her enchantments were better than one would expect.
The large exception was knives.
For some reason, if it was a knife, she had an understanding of the material that matched James’ own. And her designs for knives were just better than James’ were: they matched each knife almost perfectly, even when she missed some imperfection in the metal.
So she worked with the Joint Workshop as a collaborator and learned from the craftsmen there as much as she could, and she produced potent accessories and powerful knives.
Her knives had caught the attention of the Royal Family, even.
She had written to inform him that she had found a patron in the Princess, who was also a Knifewielder.
Isabella was ecstatic to the point of boasting, but James wasn’t sure what to think.
If Isabella became tied to the Royal Family, it would totally wipe out his chances of taking her with him to find his family.
His thoughts produced a dour expression on his face, and he only started paying attention to his surroundings when they walked under one of the massive arches leading into the Colosseum. The parade now over, the Knights and their attendants made their way to waiting rooms to prepare for their matches. During the matches, there was a ground-level viewing area where they could watch, beneath the stands.
The Steward busied himself preparing various potions, and the Knight merely sat on a sturdy chair, fully armored, with his eyes closed, mentally preparing himself. James, not having anything to do while the Knight’s gear was undamaged, walked into the viewing area. Above and across from his position, there were box seats for the upper ranks of the nobility, and a large balcony for the Royal Family. A cheer went up in the crowd as the Royal Family themselves walked to the edge of the balcony and waved. The King and Queen, recognizable by their crowns sitting atop red and black hair, respectively. The Crown Prince, holding a scepter—enchanted, James noted—didn’t wave. The enthusiastic Second Prince waved to the crowd with both hands, trying to draw out even more excitement and passion. Finally, there was the Princess, a woman in her mid-twenties with her father’s fiery red hair styled in an elaborate updo, standing stiffly at the balcony’s edge, away from her brothers. And behind her…
James narrowed his eyes.
Was that Isabella?
He frowned.
He hadn’t realized that Isabella was so close with the Princess from her letter…
He had been crafting too much, he decided. He needed to spend more time with Isabella. Tea once or twice a month simply wasn’t enough.
He stewed in his possessiveness even as the brackets for the Tournament were announced, along with the rules. Most of it washed over James, unimportant, except for one other knight, on the opposite side of the bracket from his lord.
Knight Pablo, formerly of House Sanchez.
The disowned knight had, by all accounts, thrown himself wholeheartedly into monster slaying, and this was his first occasion returning to the capital city itself.
Rumors were his Class levels had grown by leaps and bounds.
“It’s time,” the Aspirant Knight announced, and he stood, letting the Smith and the Steward perform one last check on his armor.
The Knights were called out one by one, with the announcer naming them and describing them and their achievements to the crowd, as well as whether they were single, betrothed, or already married.
Suero, in the middle of the pack, had one of the longest announcements, but it certainly wasn’t the most flattering. His career history was full of accomplishments, but the announcer went out of his way to name every Knight he had lost to in previous Tournaments. Still, it ended with giving him the glory of returning the Bag of Holding to the Royal Family, which got the King to stand and raise his hand toward Suero, who returned a crisp Knight’s salute that got the crowd screaming.
A bit of a mixed bag, in James’ opinion.
Last to be announced was Knight Pablo. It was by far the shortest announcement, and the announcer tried to hurry through it to move onto announcing the first match, when Pablo strode forward out of line and shouted up to the Royal Family.
“I invoke my right to Justice and Restitution, for the damage to my honor by the Knight Suero!”
The announcer faltered, and the Colosseum fell dead silent.
The Steward ground his teeth and clenched his fists.
The Smith’s hand drifted towards his tool belt.
The Aspirant Knight stood motionless.
The Crown Prince, wielding the scepter, stood and walked to the edge of the balcony. He spoke softly, yet everyone heard it as clear as though he was standing right next to them.
“Speak, Knight. What is the damage to your honor?”
And then everyone could hear the knight in the same way, as though he were standing right next to them.
“As a result of a vile, cunning plot by the Aspirant Knight, I was disowned from my family and practically banished from the city! Suero is a weasel, slinking his way up the ranks of Knighthood beyond what he’s earned by strength! He is a rot, a cancer on the Knight’s Order, and I declare a bloodfeud between us!”
The furious knight removed his gauntlet, bit his thumb, and spat the blood onto the ground. A chorus of groans rose from the crowds as everyone’s bets on who would draw first blood were all instantly invalidated.
The Crown Prince raised his hand and instantly the crowd was silenced.
“And what say you, Knight Suero?”
At this, the Aspirant Knight stepped forward, and once again saluted. “Your Grace, I am already satisfied that the matter has been resolved justly, but I will elaborate on what happened. There was a plot within House Sanchez to either kidnap or slay one of my retainers, my personal Smith. Fools that they were, they underestimated his skill with war hammers, and the assailants were either slain or captured. The surviving attacker was imprisoned for his crime of assault, and it was House Sanchez that determined who within their family was at fault; I had no part in that.”
He turned and sneered at Pablo.
“Your feud is not with me, sir knight, it is with House Sanchez. Nobody has brought you dishonor but yourself.”
Before Pablo could respond, the Crown Prince raised his hand again, silencing everyone.
“Your retainer, Knight Suero? Would that be the Smith who crafted the armor you are wearing now?”
“He forged it, yes.”
Suddenly, James felt an impossibly heavy gaze fall on him from the balcony where the Royal Family sat.
Pablo interrupted, screaming. “I have a right to justice, as a Knight and as a member of the nobility! I demand a Trial by Arms, a Duel to the Death!”
At this, a roar of approval burst out from the crowd. It was so loud that James’ [Sound Resistance] Skill activated to dampen it.
The Steward started to put on his brass knuckles, but James put a calming hand on his arm.
“This is foul trickery,” the Steward seethed. “He knows that our lord came prepared for Tournament fighting. There is no doubt that he is armed to kill.” He looked down at James. “You didn’t happen to bring any truly lethal weapons today, did you?”
James met his gaze evenly. “No. Is there time to go buy something?”
The Steward clenched his fists. “No, there isn’t. Damn him!”
The Crown Prince spoke once more. “Very well. The right has been invoked. Knight Suero, a bloodfeud has been declared, and you have been challenged to a Trial by Arms, a Duel to the Death. Will you yield and relinquish your rank of Knight, or will you stand and fight?”
The Aspirant Knight picked up his massive Great War Hammer and thrust it into the air, the rest of his weapons affixed to the belt around his waist.
“I will fight!”
