[ToD] The Tournament

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The Tournament Part I

by Brandon "meanbeard" Salinas

from the journal of Carlo di Cenza

It occurs to me that I have not written much regarding the Duke's daughter, Eleonora du Bellenesse. While she was born long before I entered the Duke's service, and has been the source of much consternation for the entirety of the Duke's household, her life did not intersect much with my own until recently. As long as I have known her, she has been nothing more than the rebellious, morose daughter of my Knight's lord. I never thought more of her than I did any other spoiled girl of noble birth. I certainly had no idea the thoughts she entertained within her tortured mind. Nor did I ever suspect the plans she had for the future of the kingdom.

Wie es erscheint, habe ich bis dato nicht viel über die Tochter des Herzogs geschrieben, Eleonora du Bellenesse. Da sie geboren wurde, lange bevor ich in die Dienste des Herzogs eintrat, und sie der Grund war für häufige Bestürzung der gesamten Familie des Herzogs, hatte ihr Leben mit meinem bis vor kurzem nicht viel gemeinsam. So lange ich sie kenne, war sie nichts weiter als eine aufständische, mürrische Tochter meines Knight Lords. Ich dachte nicht viel über sie nach , genauso wie ich es mit jedem anderen verwöhnten Mädchen von nobler Herkunft tat. Zweifellos hatte ich keine Idee welche Gedanken sich in ihren Kopf abspielten. Genau so wenig konnte ich erahnen welche Pläne sie für die Zukunft des Königreichs hegte.

This story really begins five years ago, when Eleonora was only thirteen years of age. The King and the Duke were on much better terms then. The Duke led the King's army to a great victory in Roulea a few years prior. It was this victory that paved the road for future incursions into that weakened empire, and eventually forced it to succumb to our King's banner. No lord was more favored by our King than the Duke of Bellenesse.

Die wirkliche Geschichte begann vor 5 Jahren , als Eleonora gerade mal 13 Jahre alt war. Der König und der Herzog waren damals in besserer Verfassung als heute. Der Herzog führte die Armee des Königs zu einem großen Sieg in Roulea ein paar Jahre zuvor. Dieser Sieg pflasterte den Weg für zukünftige Überfälle auf das Empire das letztendlich dazu führte des Königs Banner zu erliegen. Kein anderer Herzog war beliebter bei dem König als der Duke of Bellenesse.

So, when King Varicci was informed of Eleonora's impending birthday, he invited the Duke, his daughter, and all of the Duke's house to a tournament at Lord Marden's estate. Lord Marden was a loyal retainer to the King and had hosted many tournaments in the King's honor. The King could have hosted the tournament himself, but Lord Marden's tourney grounds were far more impressive than any other in the land, including the Royal grounds themselves.

Als King Varicci von dem bevorstehenden Geburtstag von Eleonora hörte , lud er den Herzog , seine Tochter und den Rest des Hauses des Herzog zu einen Turnier auf Lord Mardens Anwesen. Lord Marden war ein loyaler Gefolgsmann des Königs und hatte schon viele Turniere zu Ehren des Königs ausgetragen. Das Turnier hätte der König auch selbst austragen können doch der Turnier Platz von Lord Marden war imposanter als sämtliche Plätze des ganzen Landes , einschließlich der Royal Anlagen.

Eleonora was thrilled. She had never been to a tournament, but she had listened to Sir Bellas' many grand stories over the years, and consequently possessed an overly idealized view of the chivalry and majesty of those events. To think that she had finally been given the opportunity to attend such a tournament - one held in her own honor, no less - filled her with an excitement I had not witnessed before in the young girl.

Eleonora war außer sich vor Freude. Niemals zuvor war sie auf einem Turnier gewesen aber sie hatte viele großartigen Geschichten von Sir Bellas über die Turniere der letzten Jahre gehört , infolgedessen besaß sie eine Vorstellung solcher Veranstaltungen. Wenn man bedenkt das sie die Möglichkeit bekam an solch einem Turnier dabei zu sein , noch dazu zu Ihren Ehren , erfüllte sie eine Aufregung die ich noch nie zuvor bei diesem jungen Mädchen gesehen hatte.

She spent the entirety of the trip pestering our company for details about the various knights and warhorses she was to see. She wanted to know all of their names and histories so she could make an informed choice about which knights to cheer and which to jeer. Even at that age, she believed strongly in a lady's duty to be fair and just to her subjects. A notion, I realize now, that was not widely shared amongst the nobility of that time.

Während der gesamten Reise fragte Sie uns aus über Details der verschiedenen Ritter und Kriegspferde die sie sehen sollte. Sie wollte alle Namen und Geschichten erfahren die es gab um sich ein Bild zu machen welche Ritter anzufeuern waren und welche die zu verspotten waren. Schon in diesem Alter glaubte sie an die Fähigkeiten objektiv und fair urteilen zu können. Eine Auffassung, wie ich jetzt realisiere, in dieser Zeit nicht weit verbreitet war.

Her constant questions greatly irritated many of the Knights in our caravan, but Sir Bellas never grew tired of the young girl's interrogations. He answered her every question, even quizzing her from time to time on the stories and histories he had shared with her. I must say, I ignored most of their talk. The personal politics of the lowly Knights of the land have never interested me. But I was constantly aware of the girl's presence, which seemed to fill Sir Bellas with so much joy and peace. To this day, she is still the only one who can ease his war-torn soul. And for that, if for no other of her many fine qualities, I do love her.

Ihre Konsequenten Frage irritierten einige der Ritter in unserer Karawane , nicht aber Sir Bellas der niemals müde wurde an ihrem Interesse. Er beantwortet ihr jede Frage, auch das Ausfragen über vergangene Geschichten die er mit ihr teilte. Ich ignorierte das meiste ihrer Gespräche. Die persönlichen Geschichten der bescheidenen Ritter in diesem Land haben mich niemals interessiert. Mir war aber immer bewusst über die Präsenz des kleinen Mädchen, welche Sir Bellas anscheinend mit viel Spaß und Frieden erfüllte. Bis zu diesem Tage , ist sie die einzige die seine vom Krieg zerrüttete Seele lindern konnte. Und genau dafür, wenn nicht für einige andere ihrer feinen Qualitäten, liebe ich sie.

When we arrived at Lord Marden's estate, the girl could not contain her excitement. The tourney knights had first arrived three days prior, and more arrived by the hour. There were hundreds of knights, resplendent in their gleaming plate and chain, their horses bearing the standards of their houses. They were tended to by hundreds more squires like myself, polishing armor and oiling weapons, erecting tents and cooking meals. The knights busied themselves with preparations for the tournament. At first glance, the grounds surrounding the tourney tent looked very much like a battlefield. Knights bearing the standards of Bull, Swan, Bear, Badger and countless other beasts jousted and parried on any piece of land they could find. Their wooden swords beat against shield and armor and created a cacophony not unlike a hailstorm beneath a steel roof.

Als wir Lord Mardens Anwesen erreichten , konnte das Mädchen ihr Aufregung nicht verbergen. Die ersten Ritter kamen bereits vor 3 Tagen an und es wurden stündlich mehr. Da waren Hunderte von Rittern, erstrahlend in ihren glänzenden Rüstungen und Ketten, ihre Pferde versehen mit der Flagge ihres Hauses. Es waren Hunderte von Knappen wie ich, die Rüstungen polierten und Waffen ölten, Zelte aufbauten und Essen zubereiteten. Die Ritter selbst beschäftigten sich mit Ihren eigenen Vorbereitungen für das Turnier. Auf den ersten Blick sah der Boden um das Turnierzelt aus wie auf einem Schlachtfeld. Viele Ritter trugen ihre Wahrzeichen, z.Bsp. Bullen, Schwäne, Bären, Dachse und unzählige andere Tiere während sie Ihre eigenen Kämpfe auf jedem Stück Land austrugen das frei war. Ihre Schwerter schlugen gegen Schilder und Rüstungen, was sich anhörte wie Hagelschauer auf Stahldächern.

Eleonora bounced in her seat, pointing to the Knights whose armor and standards she recognized from Sir Bellas' stories. Everyone in our caravan, even those who had long grown annoyed with the girl's constant prattle, beamed at her obvious joy. After all, this entire tournament was for her. It was good to see that it had the effect on her we had all hoped it would.

Eleonora hüpfte in ihrem Sitz auf und deutete auf einen Ritter dessen Rüstung und Fahne sie aus Sir Bellas Geschichten wieder erkannte. Jeder in unserer Karawane, selbst diejenigen die genervt waren von dem Mädchen seinem dauerhaften Gefrage, erfreuten sich an ihrem Freude. Immerhin war das Turnier zu ihren Ehren ausgerichtet worden. Es war gut zu sehen, das es die Wirkung zeigte die wir uns alle erhofft hatten.

As we rode to the edge of the Knights' camp, one of them recognized our caravan. He stopped his skirmish and shouted as loud as he could, "The Lady of the Tourney! Eleonora du Bellenesse! The Lady of the Tourney! Eleonora du Bellenesse!"

Als wir an die Ecke des Ritter Camps ritten, bemerkte einer der Ritter unsere Karawane. Er unterbrach sein Gerangel und rief so laut er konnte: „Die Lady des Turniers! Eleonora du Bellenesse! Die Lady des Turniers! Eleonora du Bellenesse! “

As he shouted, the other Knights stopped their own mock battles, removed their helms, and took up the chant. In a matter of moments, hundreds of voices were shouting the young girl's name, pumping their fists in the air and waving their swords.

Als die anderen Ritter das hörten unterbrachen sie ihre eigenen Schaukämpfe, nahmen ihre Helme ab und stimmten mit ein. In nur wenigen Sekunden riefen Hunderte von Stimmen den Namen des kleinen Mädchen, schüttelten ihre Fäuste und Schwerter in der Luft.

The girl was stunned. She sat in her seat, completely drained of her earlier excitement. Her face was empty of color. Her eyes were wide and glistened with tears. Her father placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered something to her, a smile on his face. She looked up at him and nodded. Then she slowly urged her horse forward, and raised her hand to the crowd.

Das Mädchen war fassungslos. Sie saß in ihrem Sitz, die Aufregung die vorher da war, war komplett verflogen. Ihr Gesicht war leichenblass, die Augen weit geöffnet und mit Tränen gefüllt. Ihr Vater legte ihr die Hand auf die Schulter und flüsterte ihr etwas zu, mit einem Lächeln auf den Lippen. Sie schaut ihn an und nickte. Langsam ritt sie vorwärts und erhob ihre Hand zur Menge.

The Knights erupted in a frenzy of raucous applause. The roar of that crowd was overwhelming - hundreds of warriors cheering the young lady of my house, shouting her name and hailing her beauty. Their display of pride and loyalty brought tears to us all.

Der aufbrausende lärmende Applaus der Ritter wurde zur Ekstase. Das Gebrüll der Menge war überwältigend – Hunderte von jubelnden Kriegern die ihren Namen riefen und ihre Schönheit bewunderten. Ihr Ausdruck von Stolz und Loyalität rührte uns alle zu Tränen.

The girl wept. She smiled. She shook. She laughed. She was a torrent of wildly shifting emotions. And none of us had ever been so happy to witness another's joy as we were right then.

Das Mädchen weinte. Sie lächelte. Sie zitterte. Sie lachte. Sie war hin und hergerissen von ihren Gefühlen. Keiner von uns war jemals so froh, jemanden so überwältigt zu sehen wie wir jetzt.

The following days were the most thrilling of Eleonora's young life. She watched joust after joust, fight after fight. She witnessed the aged Sir Borlac defeat the young champion of the King's own army. She saw the savage weapons of the Gharu'ndim pitted against the superior steel of Viamont. She gazed upon the fearsome black warhorses of Milantos, who tower above all others. There was even a Silveran warrior, his long white hair and tattooed body - nearly naked, I might add - the talk of the many ladies in attendance. Eleonora had never seen such wonders. And she would never forget them.

Die folgenden Tage waren die aufregendsten Tage in Eleonoras Leben. Sie sah Gefecht über Gefecht , Kampf über Kampf. Sie erlebte wie der ins Alter gekommene Sir Borlac den jungen Champion des Königs eigener Armee besiegte. Sie sah wie die primitiven Waffen der Gharu’ndim versagten gegen den besseren Stahl der Viamont. Sie staunte über die furchterregenden Schwarzen Kriegspferde der Milantos, die alles überragten. Da waren sogar Silveran Krieger, mit langen weißen Haaren und tätowierten Körper, nahezu nackt. – ich muss ergänzen, nicht zu vergessen die vielen diesbezüglichen Gespräche der anwesenden Frauen. Eleonora hat nie zuvor so viele Wunder gesehen und sie würde sie niemals vergessen.

During the tournament, Eleonora made fast friends with Lord Marden's own son, Darren. They spent many hours talking and laughing, debating the skills of each knight over the others. It was clear that the two of them were quite taken with one another, a turn of events which greatly pleased our Duke. The young Lord Marden was handsome, noble, and heir to one of the greatest houses in the land. He would have proved a fine husband to our lady had their romance been allowed to flourish.

Während des Turniers machte Eleonora die Bekanntschaft mit Lord Mardens Sohn, Darren. Sie verbrachten viele Stunden mit reden und lachen, verglichen die Stärken jedes Kriegers mit dem anderen. Es war klar das sich die beiden sehr gut verstanden, eine Wendung die dem Herzog sehr gefiel. Der junge Lord Marden war attraktiv , nobel und Erbe eines der größten Häuser des Landes. Er würde sich als ausgezeichneter Ehemann für unsere Lady erweisen wenn es ihrer Romanze erlaubt gewesen wäre zu erblühen.

I have had much cause to wonder lately, were I given the opportunity to step back through time, would I have stopped their romance before it had the chance to begin? If I had known what tragedies lay hidden in the future, would I have separated the young lady from the lovestruck lord?

Ich habe mich oft gefragt, hätte ich die Möglichkeit gehabt zurück zu gehen, würde ich es wagen ihre Romanze zu stoppen bevor sie die Chance hat zu gedeihen ? Wenn ich gewusst hätte welche Tragödie sich in der Zukunft verbirgt , hätte ich sie von dem liebestrunkenen Lord ferngehalten ?

Perhaps our lives would be easier now. Perhaps this damnable war would not be upon us. If we had just kept the lady away from that boy...

Vielleicht wäre unser Leben jetzt einfacher. Vielleicht wäre dieser abscheuliche Krieg nicht ausgebrochen wenn wir nur die Lady von diesem jungen ferngehalten hätten...

Bah! There is no sense in pondering such thoughts now. The events of the past must remain in the past, despite the present they have shaped. Our course is set. There is nothing left to do but fight.

Bah! Es gibt keine Gründe sich jetzt darüber Gedanken zu machen. Die Geschehnisse der Vergangenheit sollten bleiben wo sie sind , trotz der Gegenwärtigen Situation. Unsere Richtung ist klar. Es gibt nichts anderes zu tun als zu kämpfen.

The King and his two sons arrived on the fourth day of the tournament. Their arrival was greatly anticipated by all, and not simply because they were the ruling house of our kingdom. Prince Varicci II, the elder of the two princes, was highly regarded as a swordsman. He had participated in a great many battles and had emerged victorious in all of them. He, above all others, was the reason many of the tourney spectators had traveled such great distances. Much of the talk of the past few days had centered around the show the prince was sure to provide once he arrived. All of the knights - even my Sir Bellas - longed to meet the young man in battle. All of them wished to pit themselves against such a highly regarded warrior.

Der König und seine 2 Söhne kamen am 4ten Tag des Turniers. Ihre Ankunft wurde von allen sehnlichst erwartet und nicht nur weil Sie das herrschende Haus unseres Königsreichs waren. Prince Varicci II, der ältere der 2 Söhne, war ein hoch angesehen Schwertkämpfer. Er hat in vielen großen Schlachten teilgenommen und ging in allen Kämpfen als Sieger hervor. Er war der Grund warum viele der Turnier Zuschauer große Entfernungen zurück gelegt haben. Viele Gespräche der letzten Tage drehten sich nur darum welche große Show der Prinz zeigen würde sobald er ankommen würde. Alle Ritter – unter anderem Sir Bellas – erhofften sich dem Prinz im Kampf gegenüber zu stehen. Jeder wünschte sich gegen so einen angesehenen Krieger zu kämpfen.

Unfortunately for us all, Prince Varicci II was unable to fight in the tourney. The young man's arm was broken. He had apparently fallen from his horse during an ill-fated hunting excursion six days prior. He could barely move when he arrived at the tourney, numb as he was from the pain-mitigating herbs and philtres his healers had doubtlessly administered. We were lucky to have the man in attendance at all; there was no hope that he would meet our knights on the tourney field.

Unglücklicherweise für alle von uns, konnte Prince Varicci II an diesem Turnier nicht teilnehmen. Der Arm des jungen Mannes war gebrochen. Er fiel von seinem Pferd während eines vom Unglück verfolgten Jagd Ausflugs 6 Tage zuvor. Er konnte sich nur schwer fortbewegen während des Turniers, benommen von den schmerzlindern Mitteln und Pillen die ihm seine Heiler verabreicht hatten. Trotz allem waren wir glücklich über seine Anwesenheit, es bestand aber keine Hoffnung das er unsere Krieger auf dem Turnier Feld treffen würde.

The younger son, however, was in perfect health. And unfortunately for us, he wished to take his brother's place in the tournament.

Der jüngere Sohn allerdings erfreute sich bester Gesundheit. Unglücklicherweise für uns, wollte er den Platz seines Bruders in diesem Turnier einnehmen.

Prince Renlen was an ill-tempered, hateful young man. At fifteen years of age, he was rumored to have killed four men already. All of them in duels that were supposed to have been conducted with blunted sparring weapons. It was widely rumored that he forced his trainers to use blunted weapons while he himself wielded sharp, poisoned blades. It was said that he liked to kill. And he especially liked those deaths to be as painful as possible.

Prinz Renlen war ein übellauniger, hasserfüllter junger Man. Mit fünfzehn Jahren, hielt sich das Gerücht das er schon 4 Männer getötet hatte. Alle von ihnen in Duellen die angeblich mit abgestumpften Sparring Waffen ausgetragen wurden. Es war weit verbreitet das er seine Trainer gezwungen hatte mit abgestumpften Waffen zu kämpfen wobei er selber mit scharfen, vergifteten Klingen kämpfte. Man sagte er liebt es zu töten und das diese Tode so schmerzhaft wie möglich sein sollten.

So when he caught sight of the lady Eleonora and made his intentions towards her as clear as he could, we all fell into a deep dread.

Als er Lady Eleonora erblickte und seine Absichten ihr gegenüber versuchte so klar wie möglich darzulegen, verfielen wir alle in tiefe Furcht.

Like Darren, Prince Renlen refused to leave Eleonora's side. But unlike Darren, his presence was not at all welcomed by the lady. She had heard the same stories about the prince we all had, and she detested the young man. Her distaste for him was obvious, but still the prince persisted in his pursuit. Darren played the good noble and stayed out of the prince's way, but it was obvious to all of us the pain that Renlen's attentions caused him. He became increasingly morose as the tournament progressed, and eventually left the lady's side altogether.

Genau wie Darren, weigerte sich Prinz Renlen von Eleonoras Seite zu weichen. Nicht so wie bei Darren, war seine Präsenz nicht willkommen bei der Lady. Sie hatte die selben Geschichten gehört wie wir und dafür hasste sie den jungen Mann. Ihre Abneigung gegen ihn war zu erkennen, aber der Prinz beharrte in seinem Streben. Darren spielte den vernünftigen und ging dem Prinz aus dem Weg aber es war für uns alle zu sehen das ihn Renlens Anwesenheit verärgerte. Er wurde zunehmend missmutiger während des Turniers und letztendlich verließ er der gänzlich die Seite der Lady.

Perhaps he believed that the lady was taken with Prince Renlen. Many of us, in our youth, are prone to such mistaken, self-defeating views of the world. Perhaps he believed that Eleonora would submit to the prince's advances and become the new princess of Viamont. I suppose he came to believe that the only way to win her heart was to best the fiendish prince in combat and win the tournament.

Vielleicht war er der Meinung die Lady hätte sich Prinz Renlen zugewendet. Viele von uns, in unserer Jugend, sind geneigt zu solch selbst zerstörerischen Ansichten. Möglicherweise glaubte er, das Eleonora des Prinzens Annäherungen nicht wiedestehen würde und die neue Prinzessin der Viamont werden würde. Ich nehme an er kam zu der Meinung, dass der einzige Weg den er sah ihr Herz zu erobern, das er den teuflischen Prinzen im Kampf bezwingen musste.

I wish I had had the foresight to take the young boy aside and counsel him in the ways of love. The lady's affection for the young lord - and not for the prince - was obvious to all but Darren. If he had only seen what we could see, perhaps he would have calmly endured the prince's unwanted advances, resuming his place by the lady's side once the tournament was over. If only that poor, doomed boy had not been so blind.

Ich wünschte ich hätte die Vorahnung gehabt, den jungen Mann an die Seite zu ziehen um ihm die Wege der Liebe zu erklären. Die Zuneigung der Lady für den jungen Lord – und nicht für den Prinz- war für alle ersichtlich, außer Darren. Wenn er nur gesehen hätte, was wir sahen, möglicherweise würde er die unerwünschten Versuche der Prinzen ignorieren und seinen Platz an der Seite der Lady wieder einnehmen sobald das Turnier vorüber war. Wenn dieser arme, verlorene Junge nur nicht so blind gewesen wäre.

But as I said before, the past cannot be changed. There is no sense dwelling on such thoughts.

Aber wie schon gesagt , die Vergangenheit kann man nicht ändern. Es gibt keinen Grund an solchen Gedanken zu verharren.

After hundreds of battles and only a few injuries, the final day of the tournament arrived. When the final battle reached its thrilling end, King Varicci announced that Prince Renlen would take part in a duel with any man who wished to prove his mettle against a Prince of Viamont.

Über 100 Schlachten später und nur wenigen Verletzungen kam der Finale Tag des Turniers. Als die abschließende Schlacht ihren Höhepunkt erreichte, gab King Varicci bekannt das Prince Renlen an einem Duell mit jedem möglichen Mann teilnehmen würde, der sich gegen einen Prinz der Viamontion behaupten wolle.

The prince walked out to the center of the tourney pit and bowed to the spectators. He wore a royal cape - the Bull of Viamont emblazoned on its back - over a full suit of polished Alduressa armor. A page rushed in from the spectator stands. He carried a large purple pillow, atop which rested a massive wooden sword. Renlen took up the weapon and held it aloft. The crowd gasped in admiration and wonder. This was no mere sparring weapon. This was a sword crafted of Silveran oak, infused with the magics of the north. Strands of diamond-lace weaved about the blade of the weapon, granting it a strength equal to - and some say greater than - the finest Viamontian steel.

Der Prinz schritt in die Mitte des Tuernierplatzes und verbeugte sich von den Zuschauern. Er trug ein Royal Cape – den Bullen von Viamont als Emblem auf der Rückseite – über einer vollen Garnitur von polierter Alduressa Rüstung. Ein Raunen ging durch die Zuschauer. Ein Knappe brachte ein Kissen auf dem ein Massives Schwert lag. Renlen nahm das Schwert in die Hand und streckte es empor in den Himmel. Die Zuschauer keuchten vor Bewunderung. Dies ware keine Sparring Waffe. Das war ein Schwert , hergestellt aus feinstem Silveran Oak, erfüllt mit der Magie des Nordens. Fasern von Diamanten Spitzen verzierten die Klinge, die ihm eine Stärke verlieh gleichsam – und manche sagen mehr auch – als Viomontian Stahl.

Again, the King offered his challenge, "Will any man here dare to meet my son in single combat?" But of course, no one responded. No right-thinking man would willingly walk into a duel with that depraved boy. He had not one spark of the nobility that graced his elder brother. Besides, no one could forget the rumors of the boy's poisoned swords.

Der König erneuerte die Herausforderung „ Traut sich irgendeiner gegen meinen Sohn im Kampf anzutreten?“ Stille, keiner antwortete. Kein normal denkender Mann würde es wagen sich mit diesem verkommenen Jungen zu duellieren. Er hatte nicht einen Funken Anstand wie ihn sein älterer Bruder besaß. Außerdem konnte keiner die Gerüchte verdrängen die um sein Giftschwert kreisten.

The King, however, was unfazed. He had anticipated our reluctance. He had brought one warrior from each of the conquered realms of Roulea, Aluvia, and Gharu'n. They entered the grounds and declared their loyalty to the King. And one by one, they fought the prince and met their defeat at the end of his sword.

Der König war keineswegs beunruhigt. Er hatte unsere Ablehnung vorhergesehen. Von jedem der besiegten Königreiche Roulea , Aluvia und Gharu’n brachte er einen Krieger. Sie betraten die Arena und erklärten ihre Loyalität gegeüner dem König. Einer nach dem anderen kämpfte gegen den Prinzen und wurde besiegt.

Prince Renlen did not kill his opponents. He could not have poisoned his blade anyhow, for its edges were blunted. But he did best those three men. It was clear to us all, however, that his combatants did not fight with the vigor of which they were capable. They put on a fairly entertaining show, but in the end they fell to the prince as they were no doubt commanded to.

Prince Renlen tötete sie nicht. Er konnte sein Schwert nicht vergiften da seine Schwertspitze abgerundet war. Für uns alle war klar , das die Männer nicht mir dem letzten Einsatz kämpften den sie hätten bringen können. Sie boten uns eine unterhaltsame Show aber am Ende fielen sie um als wenn es zweifelslos, abgesprochen gewesen wäre.

When the prince was done with them, he raised his sword to the applause of all assembled. He dedicated his victories to the lady Eleonora, who made no attempt to hide her disgust for the young man.

Als der Prinnz mit ihnen fertig war, erhob er sein Schwert zum Applaus der versammelten Zuschauer. Er widmete seinen Sieg Lady Eleonora die allerdings keinen Hehl daraus machte das sie ihn nicht leiden konnte.

The tournament was nearly at an end. The prince was on the verge of leaving the grounds when a voice called out from Lord Marden's box, "Good show, Prince Renlen. You have bested the foreign warriors which we have already conquered. But how will you fare against Viamontian steel?"

Das Turnier war nahezu am Ende. Der Prinz war auf dem Weg die Arena zu verlassen als eine Stimme aus Lord Mardens Box ertönte „ Gute Show , Prince Renlen. Du hast die Krieger besiegt die wir schon besiegt haben aber wie schlägst du dich gegen Viamontian Stahl ?“

A deathly silence fell upon the tent. All eyes turned to the Lord's box. Lord Marden was white with fear as he looked at his son. Lord Darren was cloaked with a robe bearing the Swan of his house. He undid the robe's tie and let it slip to the ground, revealing a magnificent suit of gleaming Alduressa armor.

Eine tödliche Stille machte sich unter den Zuschauern breit. Alle Augen richteten sich auf Lord Mardens Box. Lord Marden war weiß vor Angst als er zu seinem Sohn schaute. Lord Darren trug eine Robe die das Wappen des Schwan trug, das Zeichen des Hauses. Er öffnete die Schlaufe der Robe und ließ sie zu Boden fallen, darunter trug er eine prächtige, glänzende Alduressa Rüstung.

Darren opened the box's door and stepped into the dueling pit.

Darren öffnete die Tür der Box und trat in die Arena.

"Nice armor," the young prince called. "I'll try not to bang it up too badly."

“Nette Armor “ sagte der junge Prinz “ ich werde versuchen sie nicht zu sehr zu beschädigen”

Darren turned and pulled his own Silveran sword from his father's box. Lord Marden was frozen in shock. He could do nothing but gape. "I'd worry about my own skin, if I were you," Darren replied.

Darren dreht sich um und zog sein eigenes Silveran Schwert aus der Box. Lord Marden war erstarrt vor Schreckt. Er konnte nichts tun außer ihn anstarren. „ Ich würde mich um meine eigene Haut sorgen wenn ich du wäre “ sagte Darren.

Eleonora tried to rise to her feet, but her father stopped her. She looked on the verge of tears. It was obvious she wanted to stop this horrible charade, but her father whispered something in her ear that stopped her mouth. What did he say, I wonder? Most likely, he told her that stopping the tournament would harm Lord Darren's reputation more than any defeat in combat. Most likely, the Duke assumed that the worst possible outcome was a bruised head and a wounded pride. Apparently, the Duke had not heard the same rumors we had.

Eleonora versuchte aufzustehen aber ihr Vater stoppte sie. Die Tränen standen ihr im Auge. Es war nicht zu übersehen das sie diesen schrecklichen Kampf unterbinden wollte aber ihr Vater flüsterte ihr was ins Ohr was sie verstummen lies. Ich wunderte mich was er ihr gesagte hatte? Sehr wahrscheinlich das eine Unterbindung des Kampfes die Glaubwürdigkeit von Lord Darrens Ansehen mehr geschadet hätte als eine Niederlage im Kampf. Wahrscheinlich nahm der Herzog an, das schlimmste was passieren könnte wären ein paar Kratzer am Kopf und verwundeter Stolz. Offenbar hatte der Herzog nicht die Gerüchte gehört , wie wir sie kannten.

Darren strode to the center of the pit. He raised his oaken sword, holding it in both hands. He bowed his forehead against the flat edge of the blade. Renlen did the same. The two boys turned in Eleonora's direction and bowed their heads again. Then Darren spoke, "I dedicate this victory to the lady Eleonora. May her beauty live on forever." Renlen merely smirked.

Darren ging in die Mitte der Arena. Er erhob sein Schwert mit beiden Händen und drückte seinen Kopf an die Flache Seite der Klinge. Renlen tat das gleiche. Beide drehten sich in Richtung von Lady Eleonora und verbeugten sich. Darren sprach „ Ich widme diesen Sieg Lady Eleonora. Möge ihre Schönheit für immer weiterleben“. Renlen grinste nur.

The two boys turned away from one another, took five strides, then turned back.

Die 2 Jungs drehten sich voneinander weg , entfernten sich 5 Schritt und drehten sich wieder um

They attacked in a fury.

Voller Wut griffen Sie an.

The duels heretofore seen in the tournament had followed the traditional rules of tournaments from ages past. They were more stylish than forceful, more concerned with the show than the victory. But this fight was different. Love was in these boys' hearts, and blood would be shed.

Die vorangegangen Kämpfe folgten den traditionellen Regeln des Turniers wie in der Vergangenheit. Sie waren mehr auf Stil und Unterhaltung der Zuschauer ausgelegt als der bloße Sieg. Dieser Kampf aber war anders. Liebe war in der Herzen der Jungs und Blut würde fließen.

Their swords smashed against one another, against each other's armor. They kicked and punched and screamed and cursed. At one point, Renlen knocked Darren's sword to the ground. But Darren just grabbed the blade of Renlen's sword with a gauntleted hand and smashed his forehead into the prince's face. The prince's nose shattered and blood exploded from his ruined visage. Darren tossed the sword to the side and kicked Renlen in the chest, knocking him to his back.

Die Schwerter krachten eins ums andere mal aneinander, krachten in die Rüstungen von beiden. Sie traten, schlugen, schrien und fluchten. An einem Punkt gelang es Renlen, Darren sein Schwert aus der Hand zu schlagen aber Darren packte sich Renlen Klinge mit seinem gepanzerten Handschuh und rammte seinen Kopf mitten in Renlens Gesicht. Die Nase vom Prinz zerschmetterte und Blut lief über sein beschädigtes Antlitz. Darren schleuderte Renlens Schwert zur Seite und trat ihm in die Brust und Renlen landete auf dem Rücken.

The prince scrambled to his feet and turned to meet his attacker. The two boys grappled with one another and wrestled each other to the ground. They punched and bit and ripped at each other's hair.

Der Prinz raffte sich auf um wieder auf seinen Angreifer loszugehen. Beide rauften und balgten sich auf dem Boden. Sie schlugen sich, bissen sich und rissen jeweils an den Haaren des anderen.

Renlen was younger than Darren, but he was stronger. He pinned the boy to the ground and straddled him. He punched Darren in the face several times, shattering Darren's nose and teeth. Darren maneuvered his arms underneath Renlen's crotch and lifted with all his might, tossing the prince to the ground.

Renlen war zwar jünger als Darren aber stärker. Er drückte ihn auf den Boden und setze sich auf ihn. Er schlug Darren mehrere Male ins Gesicht und zerschmetterte seine Nase und Zähne. Darren schaffte es seine Arme unterhalb des Prinzen seiner Hüfte anzulegen und mit all seiner Kraft den Prinz wieder auf den Boden zu befördern.

Both boys scrambled for their swords. Renlen reached his first.

Beide versuchten ihre Schwerter zu erreichen, Renlen schaffte es als erster.

He wheeled about and ran towards Darren as the young lord crawled to his own fallen weapon. Renlen screamed and leapt at the prone lord. He landed on Darren, his boot crashing into the small of Darren's back. The prince raised his sword high with both hands.

Er drehte sich um und rannte auf Darren zu als der junge Lord noch versuchte seine eigene Waffe zu erreichen. Renlen schrie und sprang auf den jungen Lord zu. Er landete auf Darren, drückte ihm seine Stiefel in den Rücken und erhob sein Schwert mit beiden Händen.

Eleonora let out a strangled cry. "No!"

Eleonora stieß einen Schrei aus “ Nein!”

Renlen sank the point of his blade into Darren's back. The Silveran wood cut through Darren's armor and severed his spine. Darren screamed, his cry shattering our ears. He grabbed handfuls of earth and tried to drag himself forward, but his fading strength was unable to do aught but claw. Renlen leaned forward on the hilt of his sword and wrenched it round, like a cook stirring his stew. Darren screeched and moaned. The crowd merely watched, sickened to silence.

Renlen stieß seine Klinge in den Rücken von Darren. Das Silveran Schwert durchdrang Darrens Rüstung und durchtrennte sein Rückgrat. Darren schrie, sein Schrei fuhr uns durch die Glieder bis ins Mark. Er grub seine Hände in die Erde und versuchte nach vorne zu robben aber seine Kräfte verließen ihn. Renlen lehnte sich nach vorne über den Griff seines Schwertes und begann es zu drehen, wie ein Koch seinen Eintop umrührt. Darren schrie immer weiter und stöhnte. Die Menge konnte nur zusehen ohne einen Laut von sich zu geben.

Finally, after moments that felt like hours, Darren breathed his last breath. His body went slack, and his face rested in the dirt.

Endlich, nach Momenten die sich wie Stunden anfühlten, hauchte Darren seinen letzten Atemzug. Sein Körper wurde schlaff und sein Gesicht ruhte im Dreck.

The crowd was silent. I looked around me at hundreds of faces contorted in shock and horror. Many wept.

Die Menge war still. Ich schaute um mich und sah in Hunderte von erstarrten Gesichtern. Viele weinten.

Lord Marden merely hung his head. His face was red - with grief, anger, or shame; I do not know which. But he refused to look at his son's body. He merely stared at the floor at his feet.

Lord Marden hielt seinen Kopf gesunken. Sein Gesicht war rot vor Kummer, Zorn oder Scham. Ich weiß nicht was es war. Er weigerte sich auf den Leichnam seinen Sohnes zu schauen. Er schaute bloß auf den Boden zwischen seinen Füßen.

Renlen released the sword, which remained pinned into Darren's back, and looked up at Eleonora. He smiled and bowed to the lady of the tournament. "I dedicate this victory to the lady Eleonora. May her beauty live on forever."

Renlen ließ das Schwert los das noch immer in Darrens Rücken steckte und schaute zu Eleonora. Er lächelte und verbeugte sich vor der Lady des Turniers. „ Ich widme diesen Sieg Lady Eleonora. Möge ihre Schönheit für immer weiterleben”

Then he pulled his sword from Darren's back, lifted it on high, and plunged it into the young lord's skull. The crowd gasped. Women shrieked.

Dann zog er das Schwert aus Darrens Rücken, reckte es empor in die Luft und rammte es in des jungen Lords Schädel. Ein entsetztes schnaufen der Menge war zu hören. Die Frauen schrien.

"Renlen!" the King shouted. His face was purple with rage. The veins in his neck strained against his flesh. But Renlen did not even acknowledge him. He merely stared down at his prey, a satisfied smile on his face.

“Renlen!” schrie der König. Sein Gesicht war Lila vor Wut. Die Adern in seinem Nacken traten hervor aber Renlen schien ihn nicht wahrzunehmen. Er starrte nur auf sein Opfer mit einem zufriedenen Lächeln auf seinen Lippen.

Eleonora's resolve cracked. She burst into a fit of wailing. She clung to her father and sobbed into his chest.

Eleonora war niedergeschlagen. Sie sank heulend in sich zusammen. Klammerte sich an ihren Vater und heulte in seinem Schoß.

I was standing next to Sir Bellas when I saw something that filled my heart with terror. Sir Bellas placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. He exchanged glances with the Duke's other Knights. Soon, all of them had their hands on their own sword hilts. The other squires and I stepped away from our knights, knowing full well what was about to happen.

Ich stand unmittelbar neben Sir Bellas als ich etwas sah, das mein Herz mit Schrecken erfüllte. Sir Bellas legte seine Hand auf den Griff seines Schwertes. Er tauschte Blicke mit des Herzogs anderen Kriegern. Schon bald hatten alle ihre Hände an den Griffen ihrer Schwerter. Die anderen Knappen und ich traten einen Schritt zurück, wir wussten was passieren würden.

Sir Bellas took a step forward, but a cacophony from outside the tent stayed his assault. The entrance to the tent was ripped open. The Royal Guard poured into the pit, forming a circle around the prince. The King made his way to his Knights, followed by the elder prince. The Royal Guard encircled the King and his sons and escorted them out of the pit, barely averting a civil war.

Sir Bellas trat einen Schritt nach vorne aber eine Geräuschkulisse ausserhalb des Zeltes ließ ihn innehalten. Der Eingang zum Zelt war eingerissen. Die Royal Guards stürmten in die Arena um einen Kreis um den Prinzen zu bilden. Der König bahnte sich seinen Weg zu seinen Rittern, gefolgt von seinem älteren Sohn. Die Royal Guards umkreisten den König und seinen Sohn und eskortierten sie aus der Arena, um einen eventuellen Bürgerkrieg zu vermeiden.

You can imagine the tone of the caravan home. No one spoke. The young lady remained enclosed in her carriage the whole journey. From time to time, she wailed and wept. But mostly she was silent. And those silences were more terrifying and heartbreaking than her cries.

Du kannst dir vorstellen in welcher Stimmung unsere Karawane die Heimreise antrat. Keiner Sprach. Die junge Lady verblieb eingeschlossen in ihrer Kutsche für die gesamte Reise. Von Zeit zu Zeit heulte und weinte Sie aber die meiste Zeit war sie stumm. Und diese Stille war beängstigender und herzzerreisender als das Geweine.

The next five years were quiet ones for Eleonora. She spent most of her time reading or riding alone. She no longer teased the servants' children. She no longer talked the cooks into playing games with her when they should have been preparing the Duke's supper. She became the girl that I think of when someone mentions her name to me now. Quiet, lonely, and distant.

Die folgenden 5 Jahre waren sehr ruhige Jahre für Eleonora. Sie verbrachte die meiste Zeit alleine mit Lesen und Reiten. Auch unterrichte sie nicht mehr die Kinder der Dienerschaft. Sie überredete auch nicht mehr die Köche mit ihr Spiele zu spielen wenn sie das Essen für den Herzog zubereiten mussten. Sie wurde zu einem Mädchen an das ich denken muss wenn jemand ihren Namen erwähnt. Ruhig, Einsam und Distanziert.

To think of the thoughts that raged in her head. To think of what she was reading. To think of that great secret Sir Bellas kept from me. I can scarcely believe such world-shaking events were unfolding right before me, and all without anyone in the house suspecting a thing.

Daran zu denken welche Gedanken in ihrem Kopf wüten. Darüber nachzudenken was sie gelesen hat. Darüber nachzudenken welches große Geheimnis Sir Bellas mir vorenthielt. Ich kann kaum glauben das sich solch Weltveränderten Vorfälle entwickeln ohne das dies irgendjemand vermutet haben könnte.

[Ziv]

[turbine]

The Tournament Part II

by Brandon "meanbeard" Salinas

from the journal of Carlo di Cenza


Shortley after Darren's murder, Lord Marden made his peace with the King. He retains his position as one of Varicci's most favored and loyal subjects. In fact, a tourney was held on the anniversary of Darren's death in the young lord's honor. Prince Renlen made a great show of expressing his regret at the outcome of the duel, but it was profoundly obvious to all assembled that in his rhetoric, he never actually apologized for the young lad's murder.


Two months ago, Lord Marden announced that he would hold a tournament in honor of the fall of Lizistan. He summoned Knights from all the duchies of the kingdom, including our own.


The Duke, however, ordered his Knights to decline the invitation. The Duke has been acting odd for several months now. He has ordered our Knights on several quests that seem to serve no purpose in the Gharu'n and Aluvian wars. Secret raids on the manors of other lords in search of "illegal" goods from Milantos and Souia-Vey. Secret weapons trades with the Silverans of the north. Midnight rendezvous with lords and Dukes who have nothing to do with the wars to the South and East.


He has also begun to espouse a whole host of strange new beliefs. Three months ago, he issued a decree forbidding anyone in the duchy from addressing him as "Sir" or "Lord." He no longer abides the kneeling and head-bowing that have marked our interactions with him our entire lives. He even re-fashioned the servants' quarters of his house, outfitting our chambers with as much luxury and opulence as he could spare, as if we were more than mere servants.


It seemed he was making a great effort to distance himself from the rest of Viamontian nobility. So when he forbade us from attending the tourney, none of us was especially surprised.


I was surprised, however, to be awakened in the middle of the night a week before the tournament was set to begin. I remember dreaming of the graceful Gharu'ndim dancers I had seen on my travels to the South when a rough hand shook me from my slumber. I peered into the gloom through bleary eyes, somewhat uncertain of my surroundings. Sir Bellas looked down at me, fully outfitted in his armor. "Wake up, Carlo," he whispered. "I have need of your service."


I blinked the haze of sleep from my eyes and nodded to my Knight. I stood up, my naked flesh bristling in the cold night air. I walked toward my trunk to retrieve my clothes when I noticed Eleonora standing in the corner of the room. She was wrapped in a thick, fur-lined cloak. She merely stood there, staring out my window. She did not notice me at all.


I looked at Sir Bellas, doing my best to convey my confusion with my eyes. He put a finger to his lips, his silent signal that all would be explained in time. I nodded and dressed myself. We exited into the Duke's courtyard. Three horses stood waiting. We mounted our steeds and trotted silently out of the fortress gates and into the night. None witnessed our departure.


We were at the border of the duchy when Sir Bellas informed me of our destination - Lord Marden's tournament. He did not say why we were going. He did not say how he planned to appease the Duke's anger at our disobedience. And he certainly did not say why Eleonora was with us. He merely informed me of our destination, then fell silent once more.


The lady did not speak the entire trip. Sir Bellas spoke but little - only enough to coordinate the setup and teardown of camp each night.


As we neared Marden's lands, the sky opened and poured its rains upon us. Day and night it rained. The ground became muddy and thick, slowing our pace to a mere crawl.


When we reached the border of the Marden duchy, Eleonora broke off from us without word or gesture. She headed into the misty forest along the road and disappeared from view. Sir Bellas spared not a glance as she left.


After a few minutes, he finally spoke. "Carlo, you have been loyal to me for many years. You have done all that I have asked without complaint and with great zeal. You have been honest and forthright to me when other squires would have lied to my face. You are a good man, Carlo."


"Thank you, sir," I mumbled.


"I have kept secrets from you, Carlo."


"Such is your right, sir," I replied.


He nodded. "Much will be revealed in the coming days. But for now, do as you have done all these years. Follow closely and move quickly. Our survival depends on it."


"Yes, sir," I nodded.


And that was it. He did not speak to me again until we made camp at the tourney.


The tourney grounds appeared much like they did five years ago. Knights from dozens of duchies made camp around Lord Marden's manor. Hundreds of tents cluttered the fields and forests. Despite the foul weather, there was much feasting and merrymaking. Were it not for Sir Bellas' ominous warning, I feel certain I would have enjoyed myself. There has not been much in the way of merrymaking in the Duke's house of late.


We erected a tent on the outskirts of camp and spoke to no one. Neither did anyone speak to us. We were strangers here, and Sir Bellas took care to hide all evidence of the Stag of Bellenesse, a fact which added to my increasing unease.


We ate our dinner in silence and slept uneasily as the rain pounded against the sides of our tent.


The next day, we made our way through the bustling camp to the tourney grounds. There was a significant crowd trying to work their way into the massive tent, but few stood in the way of Sir Bellas' immense frame. Even unarmored as he was, he was quite the formidable presence.


We worked our way to a pair of seats in the top row of the spectator stands. We seated ourselves near a group of Silverans. I've never grown tired of listening to their bizarre, twisting tongue. I once tried my hand at the language, but was utterly incapable of forming the words. But still, I do enjoy hearing it.


We watched the tournament in relative silence. Knights jousted on horse and dueled on foot. Groups of men fought mock battles against one another. In one instance, Sir Gaja fought a White Bear to the death - the bear's death, thankfully. Sir Bellas watched all this with little enthusiasm. My curiosity about our presence here increased with each match. What were we doing here? Why had we deceived the Duke? And where was Eleonora?


Soon enough, my questions were answered.


Near the end of the day, Lord Marden's page announced a duel between Sir Luchissi of the duchy of Filuria and a mystery knight from an unnamed province. Sir Bellas leaned forward and finally took an interest in the games.


Sir Luchissi stepped onto the grounds in his Alduressa plate. He was a crowd favorite, having bested three other opponents that day with incredible speed and ferocity. He bowed with a flourish, to the wild adulation of the crowd.


The mystery knight received far less applause. In fact, he received more jeers and snickers than anything else. He was much smaller than Sir Luchissi, and his armor was old and battered. An Aluvian heaume awkwardly covered his head. He did not bow to the crowd. He merely took his position, unsheathed his simple wooden sword, and stood ready.


Sir Luchissi did not even wait for the page's signal. He launched himself at the young knight, delivering a flurry of jabs and strikes. The mystery knight parried them all with silken ease, dancing away from the larger knight and spinning to face Luchissi's back. The mystery knight went to slash Luchissi in the back, but Luchissi awkwardly leapt to the side.


The smaller knight could have pressed the attack, but he did not. He simply lowered his sword, turned, and walked away. When he was a respectable distance from Luchissi, he turned back to the knight and readied himself again.


I looked at Sir Bellas and noticed that his fists were clenched tight. His face was drained of color. He was almost white. I could not recall a time when I had seen him so worried.


At that point, the identity of the mystery knight became incredibly obvious. I had seen that armor and sword many times before, had wielded them myself on many occasions. They were used by the boys of the Duke's house in combat training. When I was a younger man, I spent many days in that armor, fighting and sweating in the Duke's own courtyard. I understood now why Eleonora had been absent from us all this time. And I understood why we had defied the Duke. He never would have agreed to his daughter's participation in this tournament. Had he known that she intended to fight against the knights of the realm, he surely would have locked the girl in her quarters.


But uncovering the identity of the mystery knight only raised more questions. Why had Eleonora risked her father's ire to take part in a tournament? Why this one, instead of some smaller tourney closer to home? And why had she concealed her combat ability for so long? I certainly had no idea the girl could even lift a sword, let alone fight with it. And to fight with the grace that she displayed before me on the tourney floor... the girl must have been training for the last five years at the least.


Sir Luchissi bowed at his opponent. She bowed in return. Then the battle renewed. This time, Luchissi attacked much more conservatively. He maintained some measure of control, keeping his sword close to parry her attacks. The two of them danced around one another, a more graceful pair than had heretofore been witnessed at this tournament. Luchissi lunged and attacked. Eleonora parried and stepped to the side. This happened several times. Each time, Eleonora stepped around and behind Luchissi. She could have struck him in the back any one of those times. But she did not. She simply waited for Luchissi to regain his footing and turn back to her. She was clearly enjoying this fight.


Sir Bellas, however, was not. "Damn it, girl. Hit him!" he muttered under his breath.


Sir Luchissi's face was purple with anger. This young, unknown knight had made a fool of him, toying with him like a cat with his prey. He was ready to end this fight, and fiercely, too, it seemed. He roared and charged at Eleonora. He swung wildly, clearly hoping to lop the poor girl's head off. But she effortlessly parried his attacks. And when she saw an opening, she cracked him on the side of the head with her wooden blade.


Sir Luchissi howled in agony. He dropped his sword and fell to the ground, holding his bloody head in his hands.


The crowd erupted in applause. The same audience that had showered Sir Luchissi with so much praise just a few moments before now cheered his defeat.


Eleonora strode to the center of the field, bowed to Lord Marden, and exited the grounds.


Sir Bellas leaned close to me. "Let's go," he said. We stood and made our way through the cheering crowd. When we reached the floor, we turned to exit. But a surge in the crowd's wild applause caught my attention. I turned to see what the excitement was about, and my blood ran cold.


Prince Renlen strode out to the center of the pit. His armor gleamed in the tent's torchlight. His purple cape swirled about him, emblazoned with the magnificent bull of Viamont. He helped Sir Luchissi to his feet, then waved to the cheering crowd. That was all I saw before Sir Bellas grabbed my arm and pulled me outside.


The evening passed in tense silence. Eleonora did not visit us. I wondered where she had hid herself. I wanted to ask Sir Bellas what he needed from me, what exactly he had planned - though I had a pretty good idea what his answer would be - but I am not in the habit of questioning my betters, no matter how much of my life I have spent at their sides.


It was only when I bade Sir Bellas good night that he finally spoke. "Carlo," he said.


"Yes, Sir Bellas?"


He looked me in the eye for the first time that night. "It will happen tomorrow."


I did not sleep well.


I lay awake, listening to the rain as it pounded against our tent. I despaired at the future, wondering what tragedies and horrors the Lady Eleonora had in store for us. She planned to harm the prince; I was certain of that. Why else would we have traveled so far to this tournament, when if all she wanted was to fight as a man, she could have attended any number of smaller tournaments in our own lands? What would her father think of such treason? Surely the King would demand her head, if we could even escape the tourney grounds. Would the Duke give it to him? Would he choose his King over his daughter?


But then another thought struck me. Perhaps the Duke knew of our plan. Perhaps he had even ordered it. The Duke has greatly distanced himself from Viamontian society these past few months. His behavior has been strange. He has not traveled to the King's castle in months. Is he planning a rebellion?


It was the book. In the past years, I have seen many copies of this ancient Roulean text lying about the Duke's fortress. No one speaks of it, but I know everyone has read it. The ideas contained within that book are so dangerous, so intense... I have never been so moved by another's words. It is no wonder the Emperors of Roulea suppressed this work for so long. That book could start a revolution.


Perhaps it already has.

[Ziv]

[turbine]

The Tournament Part III

by Brandon "meanbeard" Salinas

from the journal of Carlo di Cenza


The next morning, I woke and began preparations to dismantle the tent. Sir Bellas stopped me. He wore a heavy woolen cloak that was closed at the front with a series of small bronze clasps. The cloak had a slightly misshapen look to it. After a moment's observation, I made out the shape of his armor beneath the thick wool. Sir Bellas was ready for battle.


"When it happens, stay close," he told me. He reached into his cloak. I noticed a heavy crossbow tied close to his side. He pulled out three long daggers and handed them to me. "Keep these in reach. Your belt, perhaps. I will do what I can to protect you, but I can promise nothing."


I took the knives and placed them securely beneath my belt. They were hidden from view, but quite easily reachable if I needed them. I am not well-trained in battle, and so I hoped I would not need those knives, but I had seldom seen my knight so grave. I resigned myself to the fight ahead - a fight against the Royal Guard of Viamont.


I did not pack the tent. Sir Bellas told me that we would need to flee quickly. We could not afford to be hampered by any more weight than was absolutely necessary. Instead, we filed into the tournament grounds. We had risen early and few had made their way beneath the tent, so we were able to take our seats on the front row of benches. We remained as close to the tent's exit as possible. When it finally happened, we would have to leave in a hurry.


Sir Bellas and I sat in silence for two long hours. He did not tell me what the day had in store for us. I did not ask.


The stands of the tourney pit slowly filled with spectators. When the stands were full, Lord Marden entered, the prince at his side. The crowd cheered the prince as the two of them sat in the Lord's spectator box. Then the tournament began. We were treated to the same sort of spectacles from the previous day - jousts, duels, and group battles. When each match concluded, the defeated knight or knights exited the grounds while the victor retired to the holding pen. Eventually, only two would remain. And they would compete for the honor of the tourney helm.


Eleonora's identity remained a mystery to all but Sir Bellas and myself. She never removed her helm, though the heat within must have been stifling. She fought ferociously, and defeated all who met her in the pit. With every victory, the crowd fell more to her side. By the time her fifth match began, the crowd was on their feet, cheering with more fervor than had yet been displayed at the tournament. They loved her, though they had no idea who she was.


Prince Renlen loved her as well. He wore the same suit of armor he had worn yesterday. He looked more like a combatant than a spectator. And probably, I thought, he meant to take part as a combatant. The princes of Viamont routinely attend tournaments, a tradition they began after Lord Darren's honor tourney four years ago. They do not participate in the tournament itself. They choose, instead, to fight just the one duel - the final duel against the tournament's otherwise rightful victor. Of course, the princes have yet to lose even one of those duels. Even if their opponent were not exhausted from a full day of jousting the kingdom's fiercest knights, no loyal subject of the King would dare claim victory over a prince of Viamont.


Doubtless, this was Eleonora's plan. She hoped to win the tournament so that she could engage the prince in a duel. But what then? Did she intend to shame him in defeat? Or did she intend a far worse fate? Either way, he would demand her execution. Probably ours as well.


When the light of day finally succumbed to the dark of night, the final battle of the tournament was announced. The mystery knight would fight Count Corcima, King Varicci's own nephew. Corcima had fought incredibly well that day. No opponent had lasted more then twenty seconds against him. I had seldom witnessed a more brilliant display of martial prowess. Eleonora would have a difficult time with him, I was certain.


Count Corcima strode to the center of the pit. He turned to Lord Marden's box. He raised his jousting sword to his lips. I noted that it was not the same one he had used in the tournament thus far. Those swords were common jousting swords made from common Viamontian wood. No, this sword was different. It was made of fine Silveran oak, and it was massive. The weapon must have weighed thirty stones. Eleonora's piddly jousting sword would stand no chance against a weapon such as that. If they were to actually cross blades, he would shatter her weapon like a child's playhouse. But worse than that was a more chilling thought - what would happen if he hit her in the head with that thing?


"Lord Marden, Cousin Renlen," bellowed the knight. "I dedicate this victory to the glory of Viamont!"


Lord Marden and Prince Renlen stood and clapped as the audience erupted into raucous applause. The simplest way to rouse a crowd to a wild fervor has always been to invoke the glory of Viamont, but these times of war engender an even greater sense of pride in one's kingdom than usual. It is nearly enough to make one fear for one's life.


As the applause died, Eleonora entered the pit. Her appearance caused the spectators to leap to their feet once again. She, however, did not bow to the crowd. She merely stepped into the center of the field, raised her sword to her lips, and bowed to Lord Marden and the prince. Then she took her battle position.


The crowd quickly settled down. There was utter silence beneath the tourney tent. Eleonora stood, her left side facing Count Corcima. She crouched low, her sword's point resting against the ground. Her bronze heaume stared impassively at Count Corcima, who had taken a more traditional tournament pose – body front, blade held to his forehead. The two regarded one another for a moment, then Corcima attacked.


He rushed forward and swung low, that great battering ram of a sword grazing the earth as its pendulous motion sent it sailing up towards Eleonora's face. Eleonora leaned backwards, allowing the blade to swing up past her face. There was a loud ting as the tip of the sword grazed her heaume. She quickly stepped to the left and whipped her own sword around, smashing the knight in the back of the head with the most sickening thud I had ever heard.


Count Corcima tripped forward and landed flat on his face. He did not move.


Nor did the audience.


No duel of that tournament had ended so quickly or so fiercely. We were shocked at the speed of its resolution. But more importantly, we were concerned for the safety of the knight. Such a blow was more than capable of killing a man. And the pool of blood slowly spreading around Count Corcima's head gave us reason to believe that it had indeed killed this man.


But after a tense moment, the knight stirred. He placed his palms on the ground and slowly rose to his knees. He shook his head, spraying a light shower of blood into the sand around him.


He staggered to his feet and turned to Eleonora. The two regarded one another for a long moment. I feared he might renew his attack against her, but as shaky as he was, I knew she could have easily bested him a second time.


But such fears were unwarranted. The noble knight bowed to the victor of the duel, then left the pit.


The audience members rose to their feet and chanted Corcima's name. Lord Marden and Prince Renlen did the same. Eleonora merely watched him go. The chanting quickly died as he exited the tent.


Lord Marden called to Eleonora, "Mystery knight. You have bested every other contestant in these games. You have proven yourself to be the finest warrior in the land. You well deserve this helm of honor." Lord Marden gestured to a young page. The boy opened a small wooden gate and entered the pit. He carried a large quilted pillow before him. On that pillow rested a gleaming silver helm. A large horse's tail was attached to its top and flowed majestically behind it. The page walked to Eleonora, knelt, and raised the pillow before her.


Eleonora regarded the helm. Sir Bellas and I tensed. He reached beneath his cloak and grasped his crossbow. I rested my hand on one of my knives. If she removed her heaume now, how would the prince react? The two had not laid eyes on one another since Darren's death. Surely, he was quick enough to determine what Eleonora had planned for him.


But Eleonora did not remove her heaume. She looked up from the tournament helm and spoke. "Lord Marden." Her voice was muffled from within the tight-fitting heaume, but it was unmistakably a woman's voice. The audience gasped in astonishment at that. Lord Marden looked at Prince Renlen, clearly uncomfortable with this development. Prince Renlen merely gazed at Eleonora with a smirk on his hateful face.


"Lord Marden," she continued as the gasps of the audience faded. "I have bested all but one. Until that duel is complete, I shall not consider myself worthy of such an honor as this." With that, she held the hilt of the sword to her breast, its tip pointed toward the earth. Then she bowed her head.


"Young knight –," Lord Marden started. But Prince Renlen cut him short.


"Leave the pit, page. There is one more duel to fight," shouted Prince Renlen as he leaped over the railing of the Lord's spectator box. The audience erupted into a series of shouts and cheers as the page scurried to the sidelines. At the same time, a trio of retainers swarmed on the prince. They removed his cloak, equipped his helm, then handed him his wooden sword. His blade was not quite the size of Count Corcima's monstrous weapon, but it was made of the same fine wood. Certainly enough to shatter Eleonora's meager blade. I wondered if it was the same weapon he had used to execute poor Darren. I am sure Eleonora wondered the same.


Eleonora must have realized that she had no chance of ending a duel with the prince as quickly as she had the fight with Corcima. Her meager blade would not stand a chance against Renlen's sword. She strode to a young boy who waited on the sidelines of the pit. He held a large, cloth-wrapped bundle. She handed the boy her own small weapon and took the bundle from his hands. She unwrapped it to reveal her own Silveran blade. It was every bit the match of the prince's own, right down to the platinum hilt.


Eleonora handed the boy the cloth and strode out to the center of the field. She and the prince held their blades to their lips and nodded a curt nod to one another. With that, the battle began.


It is impossible for me to describe the ferocity with which those two fighters attacked one another. Nor am I a skilled enough warrior to accurately recount the various blows and parries each duelist levied against the other. All I can say is that the fight was the fastest, fiercest match I ever witnessed. It was immediately obvious that Eleonora had held back her full potential in the preceding duels. She had always appeared to be just slightly better than each of her opponents, but in this final battle with the prince, she displayed a level of finesse I have never before witnessed; not even in my own Sir Bellas.


But no matter how skilled she was, there was no way to escape the fact that this was Eleonora's seventh match of the day. She was tired, and Prince Renlen used that fact to his advantage. Though the two of them began the fight as equals, Eleonora quickly showed signs of fatigue. Her attacks became less intense, her parries less sure. The prince also grew tired, it was clear. No warrior can wield a sword the size of those Silveran blades for long without succumbing to exhaustion. But Eleonora's decline was much quicker than Renlen's.


I gripped Sir Bellas' arm. She was going to fall. I was sure of it.


Only moments after I came to that realization, it happened. The prince delivered a fierce upward slash. Eleonora parried the blow, but in the process lost her footing. She stumbled backward. Prince Renlen took that opportunity deliver a quick kick to the center of Eleonora's chest. She sailed backwards and landed in the dust with an audible thud.


The prince was on her. He clearly had no compunction against attacking a downed opponent.


The prince tried to swing his sword down into her gut, but she rolled to the side. His sword sank deeply into the hard-packed earth, and he lost valuable seconds struggling to wrench it free. Eleonora sprung to her feet, and delivered a fierce kick into the prince's right side. Prince Renlen staggered to his left, pulling his sword from the ground. He nearly fell, but he used his blade to correct his stagger.


He spun to face his attacker, clearly expecting an attack against his back. But Eleonora merely stood, watching. She wanted to win this battle; that much was clear. But she was a far more chivalrous fighter than the prince.


The two faced one another in a moment of stillness. Both had nearly lost the match. They were well aware of their own fatigue. Each understood this battle would be won in the next few moments. And so did we all.


Eleonora turned her left side to the prince and held her blade lowered to the ground. The prince did the same.


They regarded one another a very long time, taking advantage of this brief respite to catch their breath. Their chests heaved, and their breathing was audible, but other than that, there was neither movement nor sound beneath that tourney tent. Finally, when the waiting became almost too intense to bear, the prince spoke. His voice was ragged and low.


"Why do you wait, milady?" he gasped. "Come over here and finish this fight."


Eleonora said nothing.


A look of agitation crossed the prince's face. He was clearly not used to this sort of situation, and he obviously felt the crowd's favor leaving him. He called out to Eleonora, quite a bit louder this time. "Why do you hide, lady? What girl hides beneath that Bloodless heaume?"


Again, Eleonora said nothing. She stirred not a muscle.


"Fight, damn it!" shouted the prince. "Come over here and fight!" His body was quivering with rage.


Then finally, Eleonora spoke a soft proclamation that I almost missed. I almost wish I had, because those words tore at my heart. "I dedicate this victory to the young Lord Darren. May his beauty live on forever."


Lord Marden's eyes widened. He clutched at his throne and gasped. Prince Renlen turned to the Lord for but a moment, and that moment was all Eleonora needed.


She raced forward and swung her blade upward at the prince. He turned to her and tried to parry her blow, but her strength was too great. She knocked the blade from his hand and sent it spiraling into the crowd, nearly splitting Sir Borlac's aged skull.


Eleonora cracked the prince in the face with the hilt of her sword. His nose shattered, spraying blood onto Eleonora's bronze heaume. He staggered and doubled over, holding his bleeding face. Then she smashed the blade into his gut. It clanged against his armor, but still knocked the breath from his lungs. The prince fell to his knees, blood pouring onto the ground from his shattered nose, but Eleonora was not yet finished with him. She swung her sword upward and hit him in the face again. The force of the blow lifted the prince from his knees and sent him sailing onto his back.


The prince's Royal Guards had their hands on the hilts of their swords, but none made a move into the pit. The confusion in their eyes was clear. They were blood-bound to protect the prince, but until he called them into the pit, they were forbidden to intervene. For the disgrace he would suffer at being "saved" by his guard when he had not called for them would be too great. Certainly too great for one as proud as this young prince. Great enough to have the offending knight executed, whether that knight's efforts had truly saved his life or not.


But the prince did not call to his guard. I don't know why. And to a degree I am glad he did not. For the prince was a vile young boy who grew into a vile young man; he deserved his fate.


Instead, he lay on the ground with his hands on his bleeding nose. He tried to stand, but his knees gave way. He sank to the ground, kneeling before his attacker. He looked up and spat a mouthful of blood and teeth at her. "Bitch! What right do you have?" he screamed, his voice petulant and childish. "What was he to you?"


Eleonora lowered her blade and removed her heaume. Her dark hair clung to her sweat-drenched face, but her identity was clear. And when the prince saw her, hope fled from his eyes.


Lord Marden stood. His mouth hung open. He seemed a man torn between his duty to his kingdom and his love for his long-dead son. His mouth opened and closed, struggling for words. But none came.


Eleonora lifted her massive wooden blade with both hands, its hilt above her head, its tip pointed downward towards the prince's breast. "Hail Bellenesse," she cried, then plunged the sword downward. It tore through the prince's armor. Its bloody tip ripped through his back and pinned him to the tournament floor.


The boy screamed. I had never heard such a pitiful, heart-rending scream. But I had not long to relish it.


The crowd erupted into cries of shock and outrage. As one, the spectators rose to their feet and unsheathed their weapons. The crowd surged forward, and we were taken with it. I was lifted from my seat and carried forward, my feet dragging along the dirt floor.


Eleonora released her blade. Renlen remained pinned to the ground, his now-dead hands wrapped around the hilt of the wooden weapon. Eleonora produced a small gem from within the folds of her armor, then closed her eyes.


At this point, my feet finally reached the ground and I was able to move under my own power. The crowd rushed towards Eleonora, intent on slaying her where she stood. I looked to Sir Bellas, hoping that he would tell me what to do.


He motioned for me to close my eyes, and I did so without question. Though my eyes were shut, I was not completely shielded from the blinding flash of Eleonora's gem. A burst of brilliant light forced its way beneath my eyelids. As one, the hundreds of spectators in the tourney tent erupted in screams of agony.


I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sir Bellas quickly whispered into my ear, "Let's go!"


I opened my eyes. The entire tent was on their knees, hands clawing at their faces. Blood poured down their cheeks, as though their eyes had erupted in their very skulls.


I looked to Eleonora. She was already gone from the tent. Sir Bellas and I fled after.


Those few people who stood outside the tent looked to us in puzzlement. They had heard the commotion, but still had no idea what had actually happened in there. I unsheathed one of my blades, expecting one of them to try and stop our flight.


Eleonora ran ahead of us towards a group of three horses tied up near a small tent. Three small packs sat on the ground nearby. Eleonora picked up a sword that was stuck point-down in the ground and severed the horse ties with one quick stroke. She then picked up one of the packs and tossed it over her shoulder without looking back. Sir Bellas grabbed it out of the air and tossed it back to me. I quickly slung it over my shoulders. The others did the same with their own packs, and we mounted our horses. Eleonora sped off into the nearby forest. Sir Bellas and I followed.


It was nearly an hour before we heard them behind us. There must have been hundreds of them, scouring the forests for any trace of our retreat. But we left no sign. Though we careened through the forest at an incredible pace, we did not do so heedlessly. I learned later that Eleonora and Sir Bellas had scouted their retreat several months before. That fact was obvious as we made our escape. Not a branch was broken nor a bush stirred. We sailed through the forest as silently as our mounts would allow. In a matter of hours, all signs of pursuit faded into the evening gloom.


We have been in hiding for days now. We did not take the direct route to the Duke's fortress. We instead traveled South for two days. Once we reached the shore, we headed West for a time. Our current plan is to commandeer some sort of small fishing boat that will allow us to travel up the coast to the port of Salizzen. From there, it will only be another three days to the lands of Bellenesse.


We have not spoken much since the tournament, only enough to coordinate escape and survival plans. I still do not know why they brought me with them. And I can only assume that the entire reason for this expedition was to avenge Darren di Marden's death. But one thing I do know: I am terrified. Because I know what is coming. Eleonora showed herself when she killed the prince! Everyone there knows that the House of Bellenesse is responsible for his death! It is only a matter of time before the King wages war on our house.


But again, I must wonder, was this really about Darren di Marden? Was he the only reason for this horrible turn of events? Or is there some larger plan at work? I almost hope that there is. For unless the Duke has some plan in mind to repel the might of Viamont, I see no hope in surviving the civil war that is sure to come.