Royal Academy Diaries I

Viking Blood ⚜ Ch. 6

Eirik was never so glad to break the rules. He was filled with anger and heartbreak that fueled his desire to win. If he couldn't win and keep Rannva's heart, he would try to win races and keep up the one skill he had certainty in.

And Loki was his key. The horse was half Thoroughbred, so he was fast, and he was also a good jumper. Which made him ideal for the race in southern France.

Master Franzisca didn't talk much on the drive up. Despite the early hour, Eirik was wide awake. As the green countryside passed by in a blur, his mind was wandering and his nerves were hovering at the edges.

They knew they were getting close when the city road became congested with horse trailers. The prince's heart pounded as they paid the parking fee and entered the stable courtyard, where the professionals were unloading their mounts. In the centre of the courtyard beside a fountain was a familiar figure.

Eirik took a breath before getting out of the car.

"There you are," his brother smiled. "Right on time, thank you Master Franzisca."

"Prince Torik, it's a pleasure, highness." The man started to bow, but he stopped him.

"We're trying to keep a low profile," Torik whispered. "We're just the Bayern brothers today."

Franzisca nodded. "I understand. Here, let's get this horse ready to race."

While the stable master unlatched the trailer door, Torik turned to his brother. "So, I'm meeting a man today just before the race to discuss breeding my Fjord. I was thinking that the colt, or foal, could be a gift for Henrik and Veronica." It was only then that he noticed something was wrong. "Hey, you okay?"

Eirik patted Loki's shoulder as he walked by. "Yeah, fine," he replied automatically.

His brother furrowed his brow, and lowered his voice again. "The sun's still going to be strong through the clouds it seems. Are you going to be okay for such a long race?"

"I'm fine. Let's go." he answered quickly, turning to go help saddle his horse.

Torik stood there for a moment, concerned. "I brought your wraps from home. They're in the stall under your number."

"Thanks."

Seeing that he wasn't going to get anything from him, Torik sighed. "Okay, I'll uh, I'll be in the stands."

"I'll be on the white horse," Eirik replied, finally offering a smile. As soon as his brother had turned to leave, he got to work prepping his horse. He donned the rest of his jockey uniform and put on the number, feeling the warmth of the sun even next to the window.

Soon enough, it was time to lead the horses out, and Master Franzisca put a hand on his shoulder. "I wish I knew racing tips to give you, highness. But good luck out there."

"Thank you," the prince nodded. He waited as long as possible to lead his horse out, not wanting to be out under the unforgiving sky for a second longer than he had to. From his position, he could see the rich ensembles of the patrons. His heart panged a little thinking how Rannva never saw him race. When he couldn't wait any longer, he followed the last jockey out to the starting line.

The announcer sounded so clear on the new 30's sound system as he came out. "And here we are ladies and gentlemen, the last rider: Bayern, number 20, on Thoroughbred-Iclandic mount Vyksen Loki."

Eirik's mind quickly wandered as the announcer rambled on about the venue and the horses most likely to win.

Vyksen, the name of his father's horse, Loki's sire. It was meant to mimic the name Vikingsen - Son of the Vikings.

The prince had been taught his genealogy since he was a child, and knew very well which lines connected him to the Vikings on both sides. As a boy, it has always made him feel strong to have Viking blood running through his veins. Which was a help to a lonely child who had to be kept indoors whenever the sun was out.

And today, he decided, it would help him again.

"Now riders, please mount."

As he got on, he felt at home in the saddle. He hadn't heard his opponent's names, which didn't really matter. He intended to beat them all.

"Today's steeplechase course is six kilometers, with a total of sixteen hedge and water obstacles that require the horse and rider to jump over them. Modern courses are considerably safer than in the last century, with better manicured grass ways, wider jumps..."

Come on, get on with it, Eirik thought with a huff as the announcer droned on.

"Riders, your signal to go will be a gunshot from this beautiful Colt pistol, provided by our sponsor Colt Firearms. On your mark, race fair, race hard. GO!"

The moment the gun fired, twenty horses and riders launched forward. Within seconds, they all were vying for front positions.

Finally. No history, no commercialism, nothing grandiose or ritzy - just pure, gritty racing. Racing where breeding was second to training, and training was second to skill.

And Eirik and Loki had both.

They ran with the best of them at the front of the pack, everyone's eyes flicking between the horses and whips closest to them, and the first jump. It came quickly, and Loki sailed over the hedge with ease.

But very quickly, the rays penetrating the layer of clouds began to get to him. His shirt, he realized all to late, was too thin.

He tried to put this out of his mind as the second obstacle came up. This one was a double.

Beside him, a black horse and a chestnut with a white star on its nose seemed to be the hottest competition.

All three cleared the jumps, although he noticed the chestnut caught its hoof on the second hedge. It seemed that he was waiting for them to make a mistake. As they were waiting for him.

This was the kind of race he loved, a good honest one. Skill against skill in real time.

Except that he was getting sick. His head started to spin as the race went on. He started getting dizzy at the jumps.

The final obstacle was a triple threat. A water strip between two hedges. He knew someone was bound to go down on this.

He just prayed it wasn't him.

As they approached, all three of the best rides on each other's heels, Eirik summoned every ounce of strength he had left.

They were so close.

The jump came, and the Chestnut overshot, slipping on the water.

And, to everyone's shock, the prized rider jumped too soon on the second hedge. The horse's hooves caught on the leaves, and it spooked for half a second.

Half a second that secured Eirik the lead. Loki galloped at top speed through the posts that marked the finish line. The crowd erupted at the surprise upset.

The sound echoed in his head as race hands grabbed his reins and stopped the horse.

All he could feel was the sharp tingling under his skin, the blood pounding in his ears.

What a time to get sun sick, he thought, as everything started turning black.

The crowd and even the announcer stood as he fell to the ground. "Oh my... The winner has fallen unconscious!"