Tournament of Kings

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Melee

Ronald looked pretty good in his armor. The white cloak of Sir Frederick allowed him to cut a dashing figure for a halfing. But, unfortunately, he also looked very nervous, looking out over the cheering crowds. Ronald was also aware of this fact.

Relma thought he might be more prepared than her, though. So she technically didn't even qualify. Actually, most people in the tournament had yet to qualify. This could have boded better.

He glanced at Sir Frederick, who had been allowed to sit in the stands. "Are you sure about this, Sir Frederick?"

"I am," said Frederick. "You more than proved yourself in Khasmir and Blackfear, Ronald. I am not expecting you to win. Merely represent me with the bravery and skill befitting your station."

"I'm afraid I'll fail at that," said Ronald.

"Nonsense," said Frederick. "Just keep Varsus occupied long enough for the other battles to finish. That is all you need to do."

Ronald nodded. "...Alright."

Relma looked away from Ronald to where William and Estela glared at one another. William's sword was drawn, his hands were clasped over it, and his shield was lying by him. On his arms was a new violet scarf, and Relma hoped this one didn't have any enchantments on it. Estela sat a little away, sharpening her blade, eyes hardly leaving her enemy.

"Are you ready for this, Estela?" asked Relma.

Estela looked up. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Relma looked over to her other side, where Ajax stood on one hand. His hair was hanging down low, and his clawed hands were flexing. "Ajax, what about you?"

Ajax let himself down and put himself into a cross-legged position. "Garrick is not going to know what hit him. I live for this. You try to survive until I've taken down the others."

Reginald and Varsus were a little beyond William. Beyond them was Saphra, who was knitting. Then there was Garrick, who appeared to be meditating. Ham was pacing back and forth, shield slung over his back. And Fayn was testing the weight of her claymore.

The wait ended.

Davian came forward, and the crowds cheered. "Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the melee event!" The cheers grew even louder. "Today, we do not have a free for all! But a full-scale battle! Two sides gathered to determine the strongest! In the one corner, House Gabriel, House De Chevlon, and their allies!"

Those named stood and went forward into the ring to rising cheers. Relma hoped Ham did better in this round than in his last fight. Then again, if he did, it wouldn't be to her benefit.

"And in the other corner, the Heir of Kings and she assembled disciples!" cried Davian.

Relma sighed. They rose up and walked out to meet their enemy. As they did, Estela sheathed her sword.

"I wish he wouldn't keep calling us that," said Estela under her breath.

"It's just drama." said Frederick as they passed him ." Don't pay it any mind."

Estela stopped and looked at him. "Don't you really like that nonsense?"

"To a point," admitted Frederick. "I use it because it helps with my image. I'm not the strongest person in this tournament. But they believe I am because I put forth an image well and pick my battles."

"But you would have beaten Varsus," said Ronald.

"Well, I confess, I am one of the strongest," said Frederick. "Do me proud, Ronald Fulsof."