The Supreme Warrior *2014 ABNA Contest 2nd Round*

CHAPTER 3.1: A Lesson on the Fairground

To the disgust of the crowd, the big man stared straight ahead and made no response. Seeing that no one was ready to take on the wrestler, the crowd sat in the dusty ground to wait. Cal and Earwin sat like the rest of them, ignoring the dirt that smeared their fine clothes.

After a few moments, Haldric and Wilfrid, sons of Baron Stannis, stopped at the edge of the crowd. They spotted the two Dannik heirs, and pushed their way through the peasants to join them. Cal was not pleased. The Stannis brothers had squabbled with the Dannik heirs at numerous social events ever since their fathers had taken opposite sides in a feud between their neighbors three years ago. They were, however, noblemen. Their status obliged Cal and Earwin to acknowledge them. Rollo, the son of Baron Chulert, appeared soon afterward.

Hal asked Cal and Rollo, “How are your mêlée teams shaping up this season?”

“Good,” answered the slender, yet well-muscled, Rollo in a confident tone.

Cal shrugged.

Hal homed in on Cal, “'The mêlée is three days hence. Surely 'tis not a secret. Or don’t you want to say?”

“In Dannik, we let our swords speak for themselves.”

Hal replied, “In Stannis, we prize boldness with our tongues as well as our swords. Ladies appreciate variety. I must confess, however, that I would like to see you try to woo a woman with nothing but metal.”

Rollo smirked. “Try a brothel.”

Laughter burst from the five young men, and even a few of the gathered peasants—though the mirth of Wilfrid and Earwin seemed more forced than genuine.

Wil uncorked a bottle of wine and passed cups to his peers.

Hal said, “Drink up! ’Tis our latest vintage. The practiced tongue will find we have surpassed even our high standards this season.

Rollo snorted. “I do not waste the efforts of my tongue on wine.”

Cal frowned, though the uproar of approval that burst from the peasants drowned out his annoyance at Rollo's crude bent.

Despite his protestations, Rollo did not hesitate to join his peers as they drank. As the rich red wine warmed his taste buds, Cal had to admit it was indeed a fine batch. Noting their approval, Hal said, “Our vintner opened this barrel to celebrate our boar hunt last fall. T’was a great occasion.”

“Oh,” encouraged Rollo.

“Yes. We tracked the largest hoof-prints I have ever seen. They led us to a massive sounder of at least fifty boars. Wil blooded his first spear on one of the sows. The male unhorsed our huntsman with a wild charge. Before the boar could gut him with his tusks, I dismounted and skewered him.”

Cal hoped everyone would remain silent to put an end to Hal's crowing, but the faithful Rollo said, “That was a brave act in the middle of a pack. How did you get back to safety?”

“Not easily. A sow and one of her almost-grown sons attacked us. I put a spear in the son, and slashed the sow’s throat with my dagger, when she tried to bite me. Then the rest of the hunters surrounded us with their horses, while we remounted. T’was a near thing.”

“It was foolish,” retorted Earwin, in a firm voice.

“What?!?”

“Did you forget your Conradin? ‘Taking foot to face a boar builds prowess. But the hunter that unseats inside a sounder is a fool.’”

Cal was surprised that his bookish younger brother neglected to provide chapter and verse.

“My master thinks otherwise,” commented Hal in a mild tone. He looked at Cal, and said, “That's why I will be wearing a Knight's Belt when we meet in the mêlée."