The Hunchback's Reluctant Bride ✔

2 | Persuasion

Though the lance sagged, Wyrn gripped the reins, determined to die on his feet.

It was customary for the princess to signal the event but after a long wait, no such signal came.

Even Prince Orm thought to investigate as to the cause of the long delay.

The king, a heavyset man with a bulging belly, sat with his arms folded.

He did not focus on Wyrn, but rather Orm, who he gave a disgusted scowl. "The man's on a mule and he is half your size. What sort of coward are you, Orm? I might have known you held little honor."

Orm, holding his helmet under his arm, parted his lips and struggled to answer. But it was Wyrn who took insult.

"I am a fighter," Wyrn said. "It matters not if I am but half his size. I am a proper opponent."

He hefted the lance but Orm did not return to his post. In fact, he turned to Wyrn and said, "Let us consider more fair assessments."

"Enough," bellowed the King. He studied Wyrn for some time then said, "I am impressed by your bravery. Surely, you are our champion."

"I do not need your charity," Wyrn interrupted.

A silence fell over the land. This was no way to speak to a king, to be sure, but Wyrn refused to back down.

"It is no charity, hunchback," the king said, sitting up. He waved to a nearby guard and received a long scroll. "You've earned well."

Against the ones who'd remained? Perhaps. But that would not satisfy Wyrn. Wasn't he supposed to receive a challenger?

And then he saw it, something in the king's smug expression.

His daughter, quite distraught, sat meekly at his side.

This was some sort of game to them. She'd defied him, perhaps by choosing Orm against her father's wishes, and the king intended to shame her by giving her in marriage to a hunchback.

So Wyrn would be a punishment? The nerve.

"As per the stipulations of the contest, you will receive my daughter's hand."

"I don't want it," Wyrn said.

At the collective gasps, he kept his gaze trained on the heavyset king whose face was slowly drifting in and out of all sorts of expressions.

"W—whatever do you mean? You've won!"

"Good. Then I'd like to have another mule, and a basket of apples, and I'll be on my way, duly proud of my accomplishments."

The king's face drained of color. What had begun as posturing then ultimately shaming for his daughter, now carried over to even him.

"Of course, hunchback. An extra mule for your new bride. That is understandable."

Wyrn's gaze turned cold. These morons were trying his patience.

The princess sat up now, two wide brown eyes brimming with insult.

"Why you...." Orm jumped back and drew his sword. "I will avenge the princess's honor."

Such actions no longer interested Wyrn but a proper fight did.

"It is no secret, hunchback," the king called, "that you can spit insults unafraid of an immediate execution. And do you know why? There is a warlord to the north with a hunchback son. And he's sent out a message far and wide, anyone who kills this boy will incur his wrath. Now, these savages aren't necessarily anyone worth fearing, but they can become a nuisance. Therefore, most people will allow you your talk. I suppose your kind have become rather emboldened. But you forget one thing...."