The Four Swords-Chapter 170: Tournament Champions

Trumpeting the arrival of the champions, fanfare interrupted the misbehavior of my babysitting charges. Lord Carrion rode into the arena first.

Giving his horse enough reign to move, he pushed into a majestic gallop. The green banner he carried fluttered in the wind. The members of the clan of wolves stood to salute the banner.

Calista looked reluctant to applaud. I did not question her loyalty to her clan because I saw her brother’s battle to achieve his high rank. I knew the sentiments were for the man, not the clan.

I wondered if her stomach turned the way mine did while taking in the sight of Carrion honored in the arena. I shook off the feeling so that I could plaster my face with an expression of indifference.

Captain Darius, for his part, looked upon his clansman with pride. Considering he had to basically be pulled from work this morning, I doubt he watched Carrion’s other matches.

Lord Carrion rounded the arena twice before settling in the middle.

He raised his flag for a final round of cheers. He beamed in the praise of the crowd. Basking in glory was where he wished to live, if recent actions were any indication.

Sir John’s steed raced into the arena with a level of showmanship that Carrion only wished he achieved. From the entrance, the mighty animal ran at a full canter. Even louder applause, cheers and squeals of delight erupted from the audience.

The way the banner of blue flapped in the wind made my heart swell in such a way that I could have followed it into battle. Maybe it was not so much the banner as the man. It was hard to be sure.

Lord Jacobson rose to salute his clan. Calista sitting next to him, seemed to forget herself momentarily and began to rise alongside him. She quickly fixed her blunder, but not before Lord Carrion caught sight of her.

Lord Carrion’s expression turned sour for a moment before he masked himself in aloofness. At least his smug expression was no longer on display. I breathed deeply trying to push away thoughts of punching that smug expression I saw yesterday.

After his second lap around the arena, Sir John joined Lord Carrion in the center of the arena. Sir John dipped his colors in salute to Lord Carrion. As if the action caught him off guard, Carrion sloppily returned the salute and almost dropped his banner.

Princess Alina stood to address the tournament. I saw her run her hands along her gown as if to fix nonexistent wrinkles before she began her speech. At least I did not have to address the arena.

"Good people of Ensis, thank you for joining us on the final day of this tournament. All tournament champions have fought valiantly," the princess took a moment to nod in Sir John’s direction.

"And honorably." Her gaze wandered over to Lord Carrion. The edge in her voice could easily be mistaken for nerves. Apparently everyone desired to put Lord Carrion in his place before this match.

"Please join me in honoring all of our champions who have joined the royal family to watch the final match." Alina started the applause.

Gella clapped excitedly. Any woman who might have thought they had a chance at my brother’s affections yesterday would have their hopes dashed instantly.

I found myself choking back something. Whether I wanted to laugh or simply empathized with the potential suitor’s disappointment, I could not say. The crowd hushed.

"Lord Carrion and Sir John, make your clans proud. Please prepare for your match!" Alina sat down abruptly. Maybe the princess’ training had not fully gone over how to end a speech, but her statement nonetheless worked.

Horses were taken away after both the men dismounted. The two champions donned their helmets.

Lord Carrion unsheathed his sword. His favor from Princess Alina was tied around his wrist. As he swung his sword in a few practice swings, the favor came untied and almost fell before Carrion caught it.

In the corner of my eye I saw Sir Gavin shudder. That was not a pleasant memory for myself and I was not the one that took the beating.

Queen Valerie motioned something to a servant on the arena floor. The servant scurried over to Carrion and heated words were exchanged before Carrion reluctantly tucked the favor inside his armor at the neck.

If it fell from there, maybe Sir John could catch it with his blade. That was unkind of me.

The trumpets started the match before I had time to think more about my rude remark.

Lord Carrion scrambled to get into position.

Sir John took a moment to make sure Carrion settled into his defensive stance before rushing him with a furious onslaught of swings. No one could say that Sir John took advantage of his opponent being caught off guard by the start of the match.

Carrion started off the match completely defensive. Every block was solid. Every footfall seemed planned and methodical.

Sir John seemed like a model swordsman. He never let up strike after strike. The few swings he allowed Lord Carrion enough space to try and strike always ended in a perfect block.

John seemed unstoppable. Unchallenged. Powerful. I want to be like him when I grow up. As silly as that notion might seem since I am already a grown man, I felt inspired to be that skillful.

Finally Lord Carrion tried to make a stand, trying his hand at an offensive volley. He gained no ground. Sir John rooted himself in place, giving nothing to the younger man.

Sparks flew as I could see Carrion’s swings get more forceful. The more power each unrelenting hit had behind it, the more skill Sir John displayed. He found various ways to use Carrion’s own power against himself.

Sir John saw his window of opportunity. Swords collided and the entire arena held their breath as something spectacular unfolded before their eyes.