What a K/Night (Hold)

Snowfall

The soft ground crunched under the feet of armed warriors, the air was a mixture of warm breath and snowflakes, and the white ground was covered in red. Two figures, one of bronze and one of iron stood a few meters from one another. Now, to the average commoner it would've looked like two factions were at war, but in reality the gathering was a mere festival. The mass of red was in fact a crowd of spectators, the warriors were armed with banners, and the warm breath was cheering for two competitors.

"Show him what's what, Sir Leavold!"

"Rearrange that bucket he calls a helmet, Sir Galad!"

The two men in question were knights of the lord holding the event. Leavold and Galad were longtime rivals, and today was the day for another of their famous matches. Sir Leavold shook hands with Sir Galad and they stepped to their own sides of a crude, but effective, arena. The two knights placed a gauntleted hand on the handle of their longswords and a horn blared signaling the start of the match. The sound of metal being freed from its restraints cut through the air and the crowd grew silent.

"Sir Leavold... Upon this day I shall best you!" the harsh bark of Galad's voice, appropriately matching the harsh iron of his plate armor, broke the silence like a hammer shattering glass.

A second, and smoother, voice belonging to the bronze knight Leavold answered, "Your 'natural instinct' is in no way a threat to my experience!"

The banter was put aside as the two warriors circled one another waiting for the other to make a move. That move was made by the hyper-aggressive Galad. The raging warrior made an akward thrust towards Leavold's chest which was easily parried into the dirt by the more patient of the two.

Leavold followed his defense with a quick pommel strike to Galad's head, "Your technique relies to much on your opponent's conditions. Make your own!" His words were emphasized by a side-step and a quick kick to Galad's rump.

The over-eager man tripped, his momentum being his downfall, and the on-lookers roared with laughter, "Classic Galad!" a few voices called out.

"Silence!" Galad cried out and the crowd died down again, but there was no silence this time. The air remained filled with the clash of iron as Galad sent a non-stop assault against Leavold. The pair drew back towards a wall of the arena as the snow under their feet fast became a sludge of mud.

Leavold bought himself a moment to speak as he locked his blade with Galad's, "With all due respect, which is very little in your case, I recommend a forfeit. You've grown tired, you look like a slob, and you're making the same mistakes you did the last time we du-"

Leavold was cut off as Galad kicked a leg out from under him. Leavold's view was a mix of white, from the snow now falling upon his face, and brown, from the mud he was now lying in.

"Boo! Galad cheats!"

"Where is your honor 'Sir' Galad!"

"Disqualify him! He lets his rage best him!"

The crowd, including Galad's supporters, turned with harsh words and daggers in their eyes. The raging man cared not however as Galad drove his sword towards Leavold's breastplate.

When next Leavold awoke he saw a familiar, but different, view through his helmet. "What? Is this... Is this what comes after?" The snow still drifted down towards him, but the bright sky was now dark and full of stars. He heard a faint drum and hum that left him somewhat agitated.

A gruff, tired voice assaulted Leavold's ears, "Yyyyup! This is what comes after alright!" The owner of said voice, to the knight's confusion, was dressed in ragged garments, "Say, how did you get here? I don't remember any Renaissance fairs being held in New York, so where are you from?"

Leavold sat upright in an instant, "New York? Renaissance fair? Where am I from? My good man what foolish questions you a- By all the knights of Arthur's roundtable... Where am I?!"

The knight was greeted by streetlights, people in all manners of clothing milling about, cars, busses, bikes, bright neon signs, and the flashing images of gigantic televisions.

The ragged person from before had moved next to Leavold and grabbed his shoulder shaking it lightly, "Welcome to New York buddy!"