The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 17.1: Ruler of the City

Prince Keldrin felt sick.

Something is wrong.

As the jubilant populace reveled in the unexpected victory, Keldrin’s stomach lurched. As a man who had built his destiny in the halls of commerce rather than mastery at arms, he cared little for the tiresome pageantry of Tournaments. He treasured, however, the invaluable information they yielded about his people.

Well, normally I treasure it. What they’re telling me right now terrifies me.

Trying to give his mind time to work, he turned to his far right and addressed Lord Mycelere, “Is that the young man you spoke of earlier?”

An uncharacteristically ebullient Corel Mycelere bobbed his head and treated his liege lord with a joyous smile.

Early in the day, the Prince had dispersed men throughout the crowd to spread word about reopening the mines. He had expected the rumor to spread slowly, causing multiple different reactions among the various social classes seated throughout the stadium. Instead, from the serfs sitting high in the bowl, to the trade guilds clustered in the middle, and the noble cliques in box seats, had come almost immediate hostility directed at the Knights of the Golden Scepter. In all the years that the Prince had used the Arena to gauge his people, he had never seen anything like it.

Too fast. Too uniform. Someone has to be manipulating opinion against me.

Keldrin had planned to gather support by spreading rumor of the coming wealth. He knew some would fear for their status as others gained a sudden infusion of riches, but most should welcome the news. First, he would inflame their greed with the promise of gold, next he would show that their hope was an attainable reality, and only then would he let them know about the dwarves.

It should have worked.

They must be spreading hearsay about dwarves across the City; that must be their method. But who? And why?

Keldrin’s eyes swept over the ranks of nobles, merchants and government officers seated in his box. Which of them are plotting against me?

After today’s events, he was glad Seneschal Marcaner had the foresight to insist he meet the dwarf. Until he had an idea of the reality behind the myths, he could not hope to persuade his people to accept the dwarves.

Caught in the vortex of his fear and confusion, Keldrin failed to notice the commotion on the floor of the Arena. Only after the pandemonium in the stands had died down, did he hear one of his knights shouting, “Foul! Foul! I cry foul!”

Silence, you arrogant dolt! You cannot win every blasted tournament.

In spite of his Prince’s silent command, Sir Gambrin persisted with his suit. “’Tis forbidden to unhorse a knight without a weapon. Their victory is without honor. They must forfeit.”

The master of the Silver Chalice, Sir Cadmus, retorted, “Forfeit? Don’t be absurd! Perhaps Sir Frálig will recall his honor the next time he tries to skewer an unhorsed squire.”

Men from both sides began to shout at one another, with the four smaller orders allying against the Golden Scepter. Their bickering drowned out any pretense at coherent discourse and a chorus of contemptuous howls rose from the crowd. No consensus arose from the riot until one booming voice thundered, “Let the Prince decide!”

Other voices took up the cry until even the crowd began to chant, “Prince!”

“Prince!”

“Prince!”