Stiel: An Orn Tale

The Stand

It had taken over a week until he saw the first human being approach the Windy Bridge, a poor excuse for an epic Ceremonial Stand. The bridge itself was hardly even necessary anymore since the pass it had once crossed now had fallen in, so a person on foot could easily cross, and Stiel could hardly see why any wagons would come out here, so far from the village Qaiel and civilization. Beyond the bridge were hills, and ultimately the mountain range that separated Morania from the Eastern Sea.

The burly man had approached the bridge, holding a wooden club with some rusty spikes, looked around, shrugged and then left. Stiel was glad for it, he had reeked of shit and disease, or just plain old stink, it was hard to tell which in the crisp air. No acceptable challenge, that meant that he was glad to be rid of him.

And now, a few days later, a second man approached, on a mule it would seem. Stiel stood on a rock, they laid littered all over the place here as well, partly covered in moss and lava. He had made his camp in the shade of one, built a simple shelter and dug a fireplace. The rocks served as lookout points as well.

The man wore simple clothes, a farmer that had scourged his neighbors for necessary equipment for this endeavor, Stiel thought.

He knew that the man would challenge him, in spite of him being able to cross the small chasm without any real effort. The rhythmic clunky sound of the man's sword hitting against the plain wooden shield told him that.

"Ho, my good man!" Stiel called, having jumped down from the rock and pulled on his hauberk and fastened his sword belt. His shield and helmet lay by the bridge's foot.

"Ho to you, knight!" the man called back. He wasn't far away now, so he dismounted and tied his mule to a bush, a scraggy old animal with brown fur and discolored spots. The beast started to devour the rash plains grass, at first with some doubts, but then finally settling for it.

Stiel stood firm while the man, appearing to be around his age, perhaps a bit older, fumbled with his sword and shield. It was simple equipment, and as far as he could tell, the man only wore thick layers of cloth, no real armor. He did put on a fur chestpiece, but it didn't look much to the world.

"I challenge you, knight!" the man bellowed.

Stiel nodded. His honor forbade him to decline a challenge. "On foot, I take it?"

"What?"

"You challenge me to a melee battle on foot, I take it?"

"Yes, yes!" almost screamed the man, somewhat flustered. He looked around anxiously.

"We'll cross swords," Stiel said, but inwardly he shook his head at the poor state his challenger's weapon was in, with rust eating the blade, "on the bridge then."

Moments later, the two men faced off on the bridge. Stiel knew he frightened the pitiful man, it was all that the farmer could do but not to clack teeth. He knew why, as any onlooker would, seeing the poor posture and arms that the man sported, and then the strong pose of the Knight-in-Waiting, a trained warrior.

"I am Stiel of the Uthrum highlands, Knight-in-Waiting making this Stand," said Stiel in a formal voice, as the custom bade. "You shall not pass."

"My name is Falt of Qaiel and I challenge you," stumbled the man, obviously uncertain of what he should say.

At that Stiel advanced, and Falt swung his sword in a wide arc, panic in his eyes. The Knight-in-Waiting easily deflected the blow with his shield, and made a few thrusts just for the sake of it, not actually looking to hurt the man.

Falt screamed with pain, as Stiel's tip nicked him in the side despite this. The man was so unsteady on his legs that he'd stumbled forward, following his initial swing, that he almost threatened to impale himself on Stiel's sword.