The Homecoming 29.

A Castle...

The courtyard he's crossing is wet after the heavy rain that fell during the night. Though the morning is cool and clear. The war engineer Tovis wonders if it'll rain again tonight or tomorrow. As the end of winter it often rains here in the very east of the kingdom of Druvic.
"Did he say what he wanted?" quietly asks Tovis the war engineer "He didn't" replies Bassark the yard foreman, who continues with "Just that everyone essential in the court is to assemble in the main hall of the central keep" he pauses before adding "And you're definitely essential, so here we are".
The young engineer nods his head, as he looks around the courtyard and spots a few people, who are considered important to baron Harkonin, who are also hurrying towards the main keep of the castle.
He spots the knight of Althilgah, sir Dontas and his squire Marcél hurrying through the main doors of the central keep. Not too far behind them, is the chamberlain's assistant. Who is carrying a pile of scrolls and ledgers.
Tovis the engineer slightly frowns as he sees this, as he and Bassark make their way towards the central keep of the large castle that's the ancestral home of the Harkonin family.
The two who were just out in the work yard on the south side of the castle, enter the main keep, and the main hall within it. There they see a group of people gathering near the head table, which the baron himself is leaning against.
Tovis along with his foreman join the rest of the group who have gathered to attend the lord of fief Harkonin.
The war engineer looks around and though he doesn't see him at first, he eventually spots the dark druid Palvarc near a doorway to an adjoining chamber.
"Good that's about everyone then" says baron Harkonin as he looks around and sees that everyone who wants here, is here. The nobleman who is a tad overweight, then goes onto to give a speech, a rather good one in his opinion. Ensuring that all gathered here, continue with their good work in preparation for the spring campaign against their neighbours and enemies in the fief to the west, the Lé Dic family.
The young engineer Tovis slowly nods his head as he realises his lord is giving a speech of encouragement for those gathered here.
The war engineer listens carefully to the baron, all the while, trying not to look over at the dark druid who is watching the lord of the fief with rapt attention.
Tovis isn't the only one trying not to look over at the baron's advisor. More than few of the others, find their eyes drawn towards Palvarc the druid even though they don't want to look at him.
The gathered crowd briefly cheer their lord when he comes to the end of his speech, and smiles at them. The lord of the fief then says "Righto on your way, and remember continue the good work".
Baron Harkonin looks at a number of people in the crowd, who remain behind as those who have gathered start to move off.
The war engineer, who wants to get back to work, is just about to turn and leave, when he hears the baron call out his name.
"M'lord?" says Tovis the engineer who looks at the lord of the fief "Remain awhile Tovis" says Baron Harkonin, who then points to the doorway that the dark druid Palvarc was standing infront of, and has now gone through.
Others are entering the same chamber, and the young war engineer murmurs to Bassark "Wait for me out here".
The work yard foreman nods his head, and the war engineer makes his way to the chamber that the others who have remained behind, are entering. Tovis follows baron Harkonin and a couple of his soldiers, members of his personal guards, into the chamber. While another soldier closes the door behind them.
And as the lord of the fief heads to the table near the center of the chamber, and takes a seat behind it. The young engineer goes and stands behind the others who are in the chamber.
Along with the dark druid Palvarc, there's also his apprentice Maren who is the chamber. As well as the chamberlain, and his assistant.
There's also the constable, one lord Errond. As well as the army commander, sir Taevar. Standing beside him is a trio of his senior officers.
On the otherside of them is the lord of the long reaches, lord Sarvaine. And standing to the right of him is sir Dontas, a local lord who is also a knight in the order of Althilgah.
Tovis finds himself standing behind lord Sarvaine and sir Dontas.
He's slightly nervous as he's standing behind the two noblemen, wondering why he's been called in to attend what's obviously a private meeting of baron Harkonin's most trusted members of his court.
"All is ready?" asks baron Harkonin as he looks at his army commander, the lord of the fief continues with "Training over the winter has gone as you've planned?".
"It is m'lord" says sir Taevar, who then adds "And it has m'lord". Which receives a nod of approval from the baron.
The lord of the fief is silent for a few moments as he contemplates things and looks at the ledges his chamberlain has put on the table. Then he looks at those who are standing in the chamber, facing him as he sits at the table.
Baron Harkonin says to the soldiers who are part of his personal guard "Wait out in the main hall for a bit" he then adds "I'll call you back in later".
After the soldiers exit the chamber, the lord of the fief looks at those still in the chamber, trying to spot someone, he nods when he finds him, then he says "Tovis how soon until the new war machines are completed?".
Only briefly taken by surprise by the question from his lord, the young engineer pauses for a moment, before answering with "The last of them should be completed in a months time baron".
"Make it two weeks" says baron Harkonin, who then adds "Even quicker if you can" he briefly pauses before continuing on with "Because by then, we'll already be moving those completed and the older ones to the border town of Falshire".
There's silence at that, and the young engineer is shocked at hearing that, he isn't the only one. As more than a few in the chamber weren't expecting to hear that. For though winter will officially end in a couple of weeks. It's still rather too early to move men and equipment towards the Lé Dic fief.
"Yes baron" says Tovis after his initial moment of surprise, then speaking up because he knows he'll never complete the latest war machines he's designed within a couple of weeks, he says to the lord of the fief "M'lord is there any way i can get more workers?" he then "Or even helpers around the yard?" the young engineer then explains "That will help eventually in getting things built as soon as possible".
Baron Harkonin looks at the army commander sir Taevar, who along with the dark druid Palvarc and the chamberlain, wasn't surprised at the baron's announcement of heading to the border town of Falshire in a couple of weeks.
Sir Taevar nods his head, then he says "Some of the reserves perhaps" he then adds "The conscripts, those not vital for the move" followed by "It will help with their conditioning at least"
"Very well" says the lord of the fief, who then asks "How many?". "Fifty maybe sixty of them" replies the army commander, who then adds "They haven't all come in yet" sir Taevar, a tall, lean man in his mid forties, with a close cropped haircut as he wears a chainmail coif under his full helm when in battle, continues with "I'll send them to the yards and the engineer".
"Very well" says baron Harkonin, who then looks at his war engineer, who says to him "Thank you m'lord" then looking at sir Taevar, Tovis adds "And to you commander".
After the army commander, who like sir Dontas, is one of the few nobles in the fief who doesn't just appreciate the young engineer, but actually likes him, nods to Tovis.
Baron Harkonin after scanning the faces of all those gathered in the chamber, before he says to them "I know it's come of a bit of surprise to some of you at such an early push for the campaign against the rabble on our border to the west".
The lord of the fief briefly pauses, then he nods in the direction of his advisor the dark druid, and he says "But Palvarc here has seen from his auguries that the spring, well the early spring will be fairly dry, with not that much rainfall" the baron briefly pauses before adding "Perfect for moving our army".
Springtime in the east of Druvic isn't particularly wet as in some places throughout the kingdom, or for that matter, a lot of the interior of the Southlands.
Here in the very east of the kingdom, it's the autumn when they get most of their rainfall. As the spring and summertime can get particular dry here. It's why on the hills through this part of Druvic there's a fair number of vineyards and wineries. As this is main wine making region in the kingdom of Druvic. It's also why there's a lot woodland and forest in the flats and valleys.
Baron Harkonin holds up a scroll and says "This is the order of movement to Falshire" he continues with "If you don't know already, sir Taevar has already sent three of his more experienced squads there" he then adds "They should be there by now, and dealing with that garrison they've got in position there".
The lord of the fief as everyone takes in what that means, is silent for a few moments, before he continues with "Word will soon get to them no doubt, and they'll learn of our early move" he briefly pauses again, before adding "We can expect them to move against us then, but they won't nearly be prepared, nor will they be prepared for what we have installed for them".
The town of Falshire is on the border between the two fiefs of Harkonin and Lé Dic. And for generations the governing of that town has continually swapped between the two noble families who don't like one another.
And though you could say the Harkonin fief won the last border conflict eighteen months ago when earl Maxiss Lé Dic was killed in battle. The border town of Falshire remained in control of the Lé Dic fief. Much to the annoyance of baron Harkonin.
Though conflict again was inevitable, the lord of the long reaches, lord Sarvaine voices what many of them are thinking "Baron, will the capital be pleased with this?" asks lord Sarvaine who continues with "Two border wars in less than two years, i don't think many in the king's court will be pleased with it, after all the civil war ended little over half a decade ago".
"We have nothing to worry about from the capital" says baron Harkonin, who after a brief pause continues with "Infact i think some in the king's court will be pleased with our renewed conflict with that lot next door" the lord of the fief looks at everyone then adds "After all we did get those gifts recently from someone of influence at court".
There's a few head nods at that, then sir Dontas, the knight of Althilgah asks "And will we be using those gifts in the coming conflict m'lord?". "Definitely" says a grinning baron Harkonin, who can't wait to spring the surprise of the two recent gifts from the capital upon the enemy Lé Dic army, as they'll never expect them.
Tovis who knows he'll be part of the campaign, and will be with the army, after all he has to keep an eye on his war machines, and those who crew them and maintain them. Has no intention of being anywhere near where the two cockatrices are during battle.
He's seen them around since they arrived from the capital Leeabra by airship, and though they have their blinders on. The war engineer knows that if the blinders are off, and one inadvertent look in their direction, and they happen to be looking at you. It could end in disaster.
The young engineer refrains from shivering at the thought of the two naturally magical creatures as he listens to baron Harkonin who quickly goes over the plan for the attack against the Lé Dic fief.
The gathering breaks up after the baron finishes explaining things. And Tovis who was slightly surprised that the dark druid Palvarc was silent throughout the meeting, files out of the chamber with the others.
The young engineer spots his foreman Bassark chatting with a couple of soldiers. Bassark hurries over to him, and they make their way from the main hall in the central keep.
As they do, the war engineer says to the work yard foreman "Come on, back to the yard" Tovis follows that up with "We're going to be busy over the next two weeks, thankfully we're going to get some extra help" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 28.

A Muddy Field...

During the night heavy rain fell. And though the morning is now clear and cool, the tourney field just down from castle Lé Dic is rather muddy in places.
Part of the lists where the dueling event and unarmed, wrestling event was held yesterday, hasn't held up too well, and is a bit of a quagmire this morning.
Those in charge of the late winter festival tourney here in the Lé Dic fief, discuss at length if the joust should go ahead since part of one side of the lists is so muddy.
They decide to go ahead with the morning event, for if there is more than one pass, each jouster will cross to the otherside.
If there's just the one pass, it's just unfortunate for the competitor who gets the muddy side of the lists.
For this afternoon's event, the last of the tourney. There's no such problem. As the grande melee can be held on any ground. Infact many who take part in the melee event in a tourney, prefer unsettled ground.
As it might give them an advantage over those who are better skilled than they are in the mass combat event of a tourney.
Tamric Drubine, with Lisell Maera following behind him, heads into the stands, where sir Percavelle Lé Dic is already seated.
Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy, Shur Kee the monk, along with Dorc da Orc. Are amongst the crowd who are on this side of the field.
That's where most of the gathered crowd are today. As where they were yesterday, you have to cross the muddy part of the field to get there.
Unless one wants to walk all the way around one end of the large field, and come up from it from the next field over, where it's separated by a low stone wall.
The two teenagers, Tam and Lis sit behind sir Percavelle, who this morning is seated beside his niece, the lady Linara Lé Dic who is on the first level of the stands.
Lisell Maera faintly smiles as lady Linara Lé Dic looks back at Tamric Drubine and says to him "M'lord you did splendidly yesterday" she nods to her uncle beside her, and adds "You almost defeated uncle Percy".
"Thank you my lady" says Tamric Drubine who continues with "And that i did" followed by "Maybe one year I'll best sir Percavelle".
"Maybe" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who silently admits to himself, that the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin almost had the better of him yesterday afternoon in the final round of the dueling event.
And that soon in their sparring, young Tam will defeat him every so often.
Something that he's not accustomed to when facing someone else and their sword. In recent years it's only been the swordmaster Mira Reinholt who can regularly beat him when they spar.
And of course lord Farque, who the former paladin, guesses, isn't even trying as he always gets the better of him whenever they cross swords in a sparring bout.
Knowing that sir Percavelle Lé Dic hasn't entered the joust because he doesn't have a mount he trusts. Tamric Drubine notices that lord Milburn isn't seated in the stands this morning. And he mentions this.
As the former earl of Lé Dic snorts slightly in derision, lady Linara Lé Dic says "My grandfather is in the joust this morning".
Both Tamric Drubine and Lisell Maera lift their eyebrows at this, then the former heir to the knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin says "I thought he was entering the grande melee this afternoon?".
"He is" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is also entering the mass combat event this afternoon, the final event of the tourney that's being held to celebrate the late winter festival.
It's also being held to see how prepared the army of the Lé Dic fief, are for war in the springtime. A war that's more than likely to happen this spring against their neighbours to the east in the Harkonin fief.
"The damn fool of a man is likely to break his neck this morning knowing him" declares the former earl of Lé Dic who leans towards his niece and adds "He was never any good with the lance, it's by the gods, chief amongst them being Narille, that i wonder what your grandfather is up to entering the joust wot".
A few others in the stands nod in agreement with what the overly loud former paladin just said. While others stare at him, not particularly liking what he said.
Both teenagers, Tam and Lis spot those people who are unsatisfied with what sir Percavelle just said. They notice all of those, including sir Galmot, who briefly stops by the stands to talk to someone, before he continues on his way along the field to the makeshift stalls, as his stallion is there, as he's one of the competitors in the joust.
The jousting event is the only event solely competed by the nobility. As they're the only one's trained to use a lance in a kingdom like Druvic.
All the local landed knights with the exception of sir Percavelle are taking part in the joust this morning.
The joust, the event in any tourney where severe injury and even death is likely to happen far more than any other event, and that includes the dueling event, and the grande melee.
It's the total unpredictability of a joust that can lead to injury or death. Anything can go wrong, from misplaced thrust of a lance, to a horse hitting one of the lists and throwing it's riders.
It's not uncommon for a death to occur in the jousting event. And it's more likely to occur in a more local or rural tourney like the one celebrating the late winter festival here in the Lé Dic fief.
The town crier has come down to the tourney field to announce the competitors. He names the first pair, who ride from the nearby stalls, followed by their squires and pages on foot.
"Parvin" says the former earl of Lé Dic as he names who will win this first joust "He might have an expanded waistline since our youth, but he's always been a capable rider, and a steady hand with the lance" adds the heavily armoured knight. Who thinks his contemporary will go do well in the joust, but he doesn't expect him to win the entire event.
He thinks sir Parvin will have a better showing in the grande melee. Infact sir Percavelle expects him to be one of his main rivals in the final event of the tourney, lé grande melee.
The two riders go to opposite ends of the lists, which the stands is near the middle of it's length.
From the racks at either end of the field, the two knights each take a lance, one with their family's pennant tied to it.
The crowd is cheering for the first joust of the day. The joust being the most spectacular of the events held in a tourney. The town crier has to hold up his hands, and yell out a couple of times for silence. When eventually the crowd starts to quiet down.
It's then that the sergeant at arms standing halfway along the lists, just infront of the stands. Holds his red flag up high, and looks at the two heavily armoured mounted knights.
Both of whom nod their full helmed heads to him. The sergeant at arms drops the flag in a flurry.
The crowd roars, and the two war horses take off as the mounted knights spur them. The local noblemen lower their lances as their mounts set off along either side of the lists.
Sir Parvin is on the side of the lists closest to the stands, while his opponent, who is coming from the road end of the field, the end closet to castle Lé Dic and the town of Massic, is on the otherside of the lists, the muddy side.
They'll swap to the opposite side if they pass, without one of them being knocked out of the saddle of their mounts.
Which doesn't look like it'll happen, as sir Percavelle loudly predicts ""I say Parvin has got this on the first pass" as the crowd cheers and holler as the two war horses charge towards one another, only separated by the wooden poles in the center of the field, the lists.
There's a resounding crash, and wood splinters go flying everywhere. The crowd yell and cheer, as one horse without a rider continues running down one side of the lists.
While on the other, sir Parvin slightly sways in the saddle before righting himself as his mount carries him towards the other end of the lists.
On the muddy ground just opposite the stands, his opponent is struggling to move, and pull off the dented shield that's affixed to an armoured arm.
His squire, along with castle pages run to his aid. A healer and a bone setter also run out onto the lists to see if he's badly damaged in anyway.
He doesn't seem to be, as he eventually struggles to his feet after finally taking off his dented shield with the aid of his squire and others.
"That must hurt like hell" says Tamric Drubine as he watches the defeated jouster make his way from the muddy side of the field, leaning upon his squire, and with a hand upon the shoulder of a page who walks on his otherside.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic nods yes to what the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin just said. The former paladin of the first rank won't admit it out loud. But getting hit by a lance in a joust, and getting knocked off one's horse, does indeed hurt like hell.
It happened to the former earl of Lé Dic when he first trained with a lance as a youngster. And happened a number of times in his first tourney's.
But he hasn't been unhorsed in a joust since joining the order of Saint Mar-che as a sixteen year old. An achievement he's still proud of.
"Have you not ridden the lists before?" asks lady Hollis who sits to the right of her charge, the lady of the fief, Linara Lé Dic.
Tam looks down at the noblewoman on the first level of the stands and tells her "I haven't" followed by "We don't joust in my kingdom" after a slight pause he adds "Well not in the north where I'm from, too much forests and woodlands to be able to breed warhorses" the former heir to the knight of castle Drubine continues with "I'm pretty sure they joust in the tourney's held in the capital Oramaea and further south".
"They do" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who took part in a tourney in the capital of the kingdom of Sarcrin a number of years ago, when he and other knights and paladins in the order of Saint Mar-che were visiting their chapter house located in that particular city.
"A fine field, and outstanding lists there" explains the former earl of Lé Dic who continues with "Magnificent jousting field, one of the best in all the Southlands". The heavily armoured knight after a moment's pause, adds "Though not as good nor in the same class as the king's field in Leeabra, or the field at the headquarters of my grand order, which we all know is the finest jousting field not just in Druvic, or in the Southlands, but in the entire world".
Both Tam and Lis smile at the boastful knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, while the lady Hollis just shakes her head, though she does faintly smile.
While the lady Linara, after giggling, says "Oh uncle, you do go on a bit" followed by "The entire world indeed". "Tis true" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic in a slightly wounded tone of voice, who after a brief pause adds "Because i said so" as he grins at his niece sitting beside him.
The larger bits of wood from the broken lances have been cleared from the field. And the next joust is ready to go ahead.
After the town crier calls out the name of the two new competitors and the crowd cheers them as they ride from the makeshift stalls.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic says "Hmmm i do not know these two fellows" as the nobleborn riders head to either end of the field.
The jousters were only children when the former earl of Lé Dic last saw them, and he never saw them practice at arms. Now eighteen and nineteen respectively, he's seeing them joust for the first time.
"That's my second cousin Jared" says lady Linara Lé Dic who points to one of the jousters. Her uncle recognises the name as coming from Linara's mother's side of the family. Young Jared being a member of the Milburn family.
Lisell Maera slightly nudges Tam beside her, and quietly says in elven to him "You see that?" when she catches a glimpse of a frown briefly appear upon the face of the governess of Linara Lé Dic, the lady Hollis at the mention of Jared Milburn.
"I did" is the quiet reply of Tamric Drubine in the same language, who continues with "Keep an eye on him" as they watch the jousters line up after taking a lance from the racks at either end of the field.
"Well your cousin Jared sits a fine horse, and jousts with a notched shield" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who is an excellent judge of rider and jouster.
Then as the crowd roars as the sergeants at arms drops the flag to get the latest joust underway, the former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che loudly says "I think the youngster Jared might get this one!" as the two warhorses thunder along either side of the lists towards one another, and the jousters upon their backs bring their lances down to line them up, to hit one another . . . . . .

The Homecoming 27.

A Boarding House...

It's not an inn, nor is it a tavern. It's a boarding house, and even that's a generous description of it.
It's in a village, if one can call a small cluster of houses at the edge of a road near some woods a village.
If it was in a valley, it would be called a hamlet, and then only a tiny one at that.
The village is too small for either a tavern or an inn. So one of the residents has opened up his home as a boarding house for travelers. It's not exactly luxurious, then again it's more than plain. It's adequate enough for someone wanting to stay a night before moving on.
One such person is Mira Reinholt the mage, who has stopped for the night, here in the tiny village in a corner of the Gallus fief. The day was mild and clear, but the early evening has turned cold and windy, with rain intermittently falling as a late winter storm threatens this part of the kingdom of Druvic.
The once powerful mage looks out the nearby window as the shutter bangs open, before the home owner quickly shuts it, and places the backing board behind it to keep it in place.
The Vexilian mage in exile who spotted figures moving through the nearby trees outside as lightning lit the early evening sky. Smiles at the young daughter of the couple who own the boarding house, who has just put a small loaf of bread on the mage Reinholt's plate, before she skips away to the connecting room which is basically a kitchen.
"Will your friend be alright out there?" asks the boarding house owner, a man not yet thirty, by the name of Gavic. "Wouldn't want to be out there with a storm coming in" adds the home owner, who makes his way over to the fireplace to chuck another piece of wood on it.
"He'll be fine" says Mira Reinholt the mage, who faintly smiles when he hears Gavic the home owner quietly says "Wouldn't want to be out in that, in that heavy armour he wears with the lightning hitting".
The exiled Vexilian mage tears open the loaf of bread, and after he takes a small bite, he asks Gavic "Is it far to the Lé Dic fief from here?".
The boarding house owner who has sat down at the table, sitting opposite the once powerful mage, shakes his head, and replies with "No it's not far" Gavic who smiles and thanks his daughter who has brought him a small loaf of bread form the kitchen too, tells the mage Reinholt "Just a few more miles down the road and you're there" he continues with "Where the road ends you're in the fief next door".
Road being a charitable description of what's basically a cart track that runs next to the woods here in the south of the Gallus fief.
"I gather you turn north once you're over in the next fief, if you want to get to the town of Massic?" asks the spellcaster from the city-state of Vexil who is also a highly skilled swordmaster "That you do" says Gavic who is taking small bites from his loaf of bread, he continues with "Once you cross over, it's about three and half, maybe four days hike to Massic, where the castle is" adds the homeowner who then tells Mira Reinholt "I haven't been there in years, not since the previous earl ruled there, the crazy one, the knight who kept going off whenever there was a war about".
The once powerful mage grins at the mention of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and just nods at what Gavic just said. Then the homeowner's wife and daughter, as well as son come from the kitchen, carrying a couple of bowls, and an earthenware pot.
Kaelle the homeowner's wife serves up a pretty hearty looking stew, and the mage Reinholt takes some roasted vegetables from one of the other bowls, while the rest of the family eats.
The spellcaster, who was once the most powerful mage of his generation to be found anywhere in the Southlands, faintly smiles as the young boy, who can't be much older than five, tries to hold his spoon as the others are doing as they eat their stew.
The place may only be a modest boarding house, but the swordmaster Reinholt would be hard pressed to remember a village inn or tavern that he's been in recently, that serves such a good meal as the one he's having tonight.
Gavic and his wife Kaelle and their two children look at Mira Reinholt when there's a knock on the front door of the house "Not to worry, it's my friend" says the exiled Vexilian mage before there's another knock a couple of moments later, then the door opens.
Lord Farque enters the boarding house, and closes the door behind him, outside it's started raining, as the sheen of water on the undead warlord's armour testifies to.
"Would you like something to eat m'lord?" asks Kaelle as the heavily armoured deathlord sits down at the only open space at the table, at the head which has been left for him.
"No that's alright, I've already eaten" says lord Farque, lying to appease the wife of the boarding house owner, the undead warlord then adds "Thank you for asking" followed by "Enjoy your meal there".
The mage Reinholt is just about to quietly ask the deathlord of Farque something, when the young son of Gavic and Kaelle, speaks up, and asks the lord and ruler of the lands Farque "Are you a knight?".
The once powerful mage inwardly winces at the child's question, because he knows how much the undead warlord hates being mistaken for a knight.
Draugadrottin as he's also known as in the lands that he rules, looks at the young boy and says "No". Seeing that brought a look of disappointment on the face of the child, the heavily armoured deathlord faintly smiles behind the visor of his full helm.
"I may not be a knight, but i am the lord of my lands that are far away to the south of Druvic" says the lord and ruler of the largest nation, in terms of size at least, not in population, it's probably the least populated nation, to be found in the Southlands.
Seeing the child slightly enthused at that, lord Farque adds "I get to boss around knights and the like" the young boy likes the idea of that, and he grins.
In a brief pause, the lord of the death realm glances at Mira Reinholt who is to his left, who quietly asks him in the elven language "Soldiers?". Nodding his full helmed head, the undead warlord quietly says in the same language "The earl's".
"Dead?" quietly asks the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster "They are now" replies deathlord of Farque, who switches to the common language, and says to Gavic who is to his right "Here" and hands the boarding house owner a couple of coin pouches, before adding "I don't know if Mira here has paid you yet for the night's lodging, and the meal" he continues with "But I'm sure that will be enough there".
Feeling the coin pouches, and knowing that it's far too much for a night's stay for two, meal included. Gavic says "That's far too much m'lord". "Maybe so" says the undead being who is also known as Des'tier to an older generation of elves who might know who he is, who continues with "But its yours anyway".
The undead warlord who took the coins from some of the soldiers he killed just a short time ago out in the woods next to the village, nods his full helmed head as Gavic thanks him.
The boarding house owner doesn't know it. But the pouches contain mostly gold coins, while he thinks they hold mostly copper and silver coins, as that's what ordinary common folk usually carry. That's if they have any coins to carry in the first place.
The local family, and the visiting mage continue to eat their meal as the rain outside gets heavier. After the meal is over, and the table is cleared, Gavic goes into the kitchen and returns with a small jug of ale.
Lord Farque passes on it, so the boarding house owner and the Vexilian mage in exile share the ale.
As he sips the ale from his mug, which he finds surprisingly good, the mage Reinholt asks Gavic a few questions about the state of the fief, and those that are near it, here in the east of the kingdom of Druvic.
"I wouldn't be surprised if that lot next door go to war with their neighbours to the east again" says the boarding house owner, who goes onto explain "Those two, Lé Dic and Harkonin have never really gotten along, especially of late, since the civil war ended".
The Vexilian mage in exile, and the lord and ruler of the lands Farque nod when they hear this. They've heard that quite a few times as they've traveled here through the Gallus fief on their way to the Lé Dic fief.
"Does your earl get involved?" asks the spellcaster who is also a highly skilled swordmaster "Not that i know of" answers Gavic who then adds "Though i have heard that he sends his traders and their goods next door more often when word spreads that they're about to start fighting again with the Harkonin's".
"Wouldn't be surprised if someone in the capital helps stoking up the tension between those two fiefs" quietly says lord Farque in elven to Mira Reinholt, who nods when he hears that.
Draugadrottin looks at the boarding house owner, and in the common language he asks him "We've been looking for someone, i was wondering if you've ever heard of him".
The lord of the death realm then gives the family name of the person they've traveled to the kingdom of Druvic to find, as well as his occupation.
"Can't say that i have" answers Gavic as his wife, daughter and son head to the third room in the house, their large bedroom, while the main room here is for any visitors who might staying the night.
"Probably follows the old ways of the druids" says the heavily armoured deathlord who a short time ago killed a squad of local soldiers because they're rounding up travelers as they try to find out who is responsible for killing the fief constable.
"Well you've come to the right part of the kingdom for that" says Gavic, who continues with "The further east you go the more followers of the old ways you'll find". He gestures towards the east and says "Quite a lot of them over in the Lé Dic fief, and even more in the Harkonin fief which is the furthest east you can go before leaving the kingdom" the boarding house owner then adds "If you're to find this war engineer you're looking for, he's probably in those two fiefs".
Lord Farque and Mira Reinholt share a brief look, then the swordmaster from the city-state of Vexil asks Gavic some more questions, more about the fief next door, and anything he knows about the fief further to the east of that one.
After the ale is gone, and the conversation is over, the boarding house owner helps the mage Reinholt bring in a couple of sleeping pallets from the small storage room.
Putting his blanket on one of the pallets near the fireplace, the once powerful mage thanks Gavic, who wishes him and the deathlord of Farque a goodnight, before he makes his way to the family room.
Sitting on the sleeping pallet, Mira Reinholt looks over at lord Farque who is still at the table, and who'll remain sitting there throughout the night.
"Where is he?" asks the swordmaster Reinholt in the elven language "Over in the next fief" answers the undead warlord in the same language "How far ahead of us is he?" asks the exiled Vexilian mage as he takes off his boots "About ten miles" says lord Farque who continues with "They've just stopped in a village for the night" as he senses Helbe the elven thief and Narladene the ground pixie in the neighbouring fief.
"Well hopefully he finds out something more about our mysterious engineer who probably believes in that druidic nonsense" says the mage Reinholt who yawns and lies down.
The lord and ruler of the lands Farque nods in agreement with that, as they wait out another night, this one that's turned quite a bit stormy as they continue their search for a certain war engineer . . . . . .

The Homecoming 26.

A Contest...

As the mild winter's afternoon continues, the duel event in the tourney goes as sir Percavelle Lé Dic predicted. With he, along with Tamric Drubine defeating everyone that goes up against them.
The two of them, nobleborn from two different kingdoms, go through round after round with ease. Either by easily defeating their opponents, or moving on because their opponent forfeits the duel.
It's in the late afternoon when the shadows are long on the field where the tourney is taking place. That sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine meet in the final round of the duel event. One of the three, along with the joust and the grande melee, that are the most prestigious events to be held in any tourney.
The former earl of Lé Dic, Percavelle has just defeated his last opponent, and there's now a short break before he's to face the remaining duelist, Tamric Drubine.
As the heavily armoured knight sits down on a camp stool infront of one of the changing tents, where Tamric Drubine is already sitting, waiting.
In the nearby crowd who are eagerly waiting for the final round in the last event of the first day of the tourney, Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy turns to Riley Hait the mercenary ranger and quietly asks him "Who you got?".
"Percy" is the reply of Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, who then asks the elven spy "And you?". "The same" is the answer from Dalinvardél Tanith.
The ranger Hait nods, then looks over at who is sitting on an upside down empty barrel, and says "Lis" followed by "Who have you got?"
"Percy" is the reply of Lisell Maera, both the mercenary ranger and the elven spy nod, then Riley Hait looks at who is standing beside the teenage orphan from the city-state of Vexil.
"Percavelle" says Shur Kee the monk, the mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait, then looks at who is sitting on the ground a bit further to the right of Lisell Maera and Shur Kee the monk.
"Dorc" says the ranger Hait, who then adds "Who have you got?". "Huh?" says Dorc da Orc who looks at Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who gestures towards the nearby tent, which sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine are sitting infront of.
The large ork looks that way when the mercenary ranger says to him "Who do you think will win the final round?".
The ork warleader with a wide grin upon his big, green, feral looking face, looks back at the mercenary ranger and tells him "Tam".
With a raised eyebrow, Riley Hait says to the ork weaponsmith from the bottom of the world in a slightly dry tone "Really?".
"Yeah cunt, really" says the son of the former matriarch of the wolf tribe of orks, who grins once more.
Not knowing if the large ork is just saying that because he hates sir Percavelle so much. The ranger Hait knows that if anyone can pick a winner between the former earl of Lé Dic, and the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin, it's the warleader of the ork race.
"Really Dorc?" dryly says Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson, the grin slowly disappears from the feral looking face of the large ork, who then scowls then mutters "Fucken shitbags" followed "Oh alright" he then adds "Not Tam then".
Dorkindle with an extremely sour look upon his face, says "That cunthead fuckface will win" he briefly pauses before adding "But only just" the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks then mutters "The shitty fucken prick".
The ranger Hait nods, then he glances at Dalinvardél Tanith beside him, who nudges his right elbow. Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman looks to where the elf from the principality of Alínlae nods.
There across the field, and across the lists, in the stand where the nobility and others of importance are sitting. The mercenary ranger who was raised and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen, sees lord Milburn in deep conversation with others around him, including his granddaughter, lady Linara Lé Dic.
"What's he saying?" quietly asks Riley Hait in elven, he then adds "Can you hear him?".
"They're discussing who'll win the last duel" is what Dalin says a few moments later in his native language, the elven spy who was once in the service of one of the largest, and more influential noble houses in the principality of Alínlae continues with "He's hiding it, but he's a bit sour that Percy has made it so easily into the final round".
The spy Tanith, with his naturally enhanced hearing, listens carefully so he can decipher what's being talked about across the field in the stands, over the noise of the gathered crowd on this side of the tourney field.
Nods his hooded head a few moments later, then he says "He thinks Percy will beat Tam with ease, just like everyone else he's faced so far" he briefly pauses before continuing with "The young lady of the fief doesn't seem to think so, she wants her uncle Percy to win, but she thinks it's going to take some doing on Percy's part to do so".
"She's a better judge of swordsmen than her grandfather" dryly says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, the mercenary ranger looks over at the nearby tent, which sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine are sitting infront of, and waiting.
"I'll be back in a bit" quietly says the ranger Hait in elven to Dalinvardél Tanith, then he makes his way infront of the crowd, over to where the former earl of Lé Dic and the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin are waiting.
A pair of soldiers at first don't let the mercenary ranger pass, they finally do so, when sir Percavelle Lé Dic calls out to them "Here now chaps, be a couple of good fellows and let my friend the ranger by".
Riley Hait makes his way over to where the heavily armoured knight is sitting, the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen kneels down beside the former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che, and quietly says to him "Percy there's something i want you to do".
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson knows it'll be impossible to have sir Percavelle throw the duel against Tam, and asking that will be a complete waste of time.
So instead, after the former earl of Lé Dic says "Of course" followed by "What is it that i, the great sir Percavelle can do for you".
The mercenary ranger says in a quiet voice that no one nearby can overhear, including Tamric Drubine "I want you to make this final round with Tam last as long as possible".
The former paladin frowns, and is about to protest, when the ranger Hait shakes his head, then nods across the field to where the stand is on the otherside of the lists.
The nobleborn knight looks that way, and frowns, until he slowly nods in understanding as Riley Hait quietly explains something to him.
After the mercenary ranger has explained it to him, sir Percavelle Lé Dic who briefly grins, clears his throat, and after he glances in the direction of Tamric Drubine, he quietly confesses to the ranger Hait "I doubt it will be quick anyway".
The former paladin who is a member of the knightly order of Saint Mar-che continues with "The youngster Tamric is rather good, and it will take some effort on my part to defeat him".
Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson lifts an eyebrow in surprise at hearing such honesty from the former earl of the Lé Dic fief, who is usually a boastful character. But admitting something, such as taking a good bit of effort to defeat Tamric Drubine in the final round of the dueling event of the tourney, is something you'd never normally hear from the nobleborn knight.
"Well" says the ranger Hait, who continues with "Don't hurt him either" who then adds in a slightly dry tone "If you do, you might be in trouble with you know who if he finds out".
It takes a few moments for the heavily armoured knight to figure out who Riley Hait is referring to. And when he does, he winces at the prospect of accidentally harming Tamric Drubine, and if lord Farque was to find out about it.
"Besides it's best not to waste our healing potions because of a duel in a tournament" quietly says the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen "Quite" says the former paladin.
The ranger Hait looks over at the nobleborn teenager sitting on the camp stool further away to the right, and raising his voice, Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman says to him "Tam don't beat up on Percy too much".
Tamric Drubine wryly smiles as he thinks that is very unlikely to happen. The mercenary ranger then tells him in elven "Be careful". The former heir to a previous knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin nods to that.
Riley Hait nods to the two duelists, then he makes his way from the front of the tent as sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine are called forth.
The ranger Hait makes his way infront of the crowd to where the rest of the group are waiting, once he joins them, Dalinvardél Tanith asks him in the elven language "What did you tell them?".
"To be careful" is the reply of Riley aka Zubutai the son of Timagin in the same language as they watch the final two duelists approach one of the marked off circles from either side "And i told Percy to make it last" continues the mercenary ranger who then adds "He seems to think it will take a bit of time and effort to beat Tam anyway". And that infact proves to be true.
As the cheering of the crowd dies down a bit so that the judge of the final round of that duel event can be heard. The opponents, who know each other well, stand opposite one another in the circle.
They're both relaxed, and after they both nod to the judge to acknowledge that they heard his instructions, and to inform him that they're ready.
The crowd starts cheering again as the judge raises an arm up, and brings it down as he shouts "Begin!" so he's heard over the noise of the cheering crowd.
They're both in a low guard, with their swords pointed down at the ground as they stand on opposite sides of the circle. Neither one budges as the crowd cheer and holler.
As they stand there completely still for some time, and the noise of the crowd starts to fade as those watching wonder what's going on. Sir Percavelle Lé Dic starts to smile behind the visor of his full helm. As does Tamric Drubine behind the visor of his as they stand there facing one another.
Then as the gathered crowd start to get restless as they wonder what's going on. The duelists, both nobleborn from two different kingdoms. Explode into action, moving at the exact same time, and moving in the exact same way as they swing their swords at speed.
This final round in the dueling event of the tourney, is not like any other round that's happened so far.
In this the final round, the two duelists, one standing not quite six foot tall, and the other a couple of inches over six foot. Who are nearly thirty years apart in age.
Move with such speed and power in comparison to everything that's happened previously in the dueling event. That they like two completely different beings compared to the other competitors in the event.
They go back and forth across the circle, striking each others blades, occasionally hitting one another's armour. When that does happen, they don't slow down or let up, as they continue to attack, or defend.
Most of the sword strikes are in a quick flurry, with a few moments of pause between attacks. Both duelists are knocked to the ground at times, but when that happens, they get up quickly, neither incapacitated, and still in possession of their swords.
No one in the gathered crowd, with the exception of the group who travel with Tamric Drubine and sir Percavelle Lé Dic have ever seen such a duel between two swordsmen. They've quieted down as they watch in awe as the two competitors duel like no contest they've ever seen before, and none they're ever likely to see again.
They watch in near silence, until the duel finally comes to an end, and they cheer both the victor and his opponent who he defeated . . . . . .

TYOFT - Authors Note.

Test Post.

The Homecoming 25.

A Duel...

The next competitor to face Tamric Drubine forfeits the match. As does the next competitor of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who has gone through the first two rounds of the duel event, without facing anyone yet.
The former earl of fief Lé Dic sighs, and looks over at the nearby crowd. He spots the rest of the group and shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders. The others nod in understanding, with the exception of Dorc da Orc who just scowls at him, before going back to drinking from another barrel of ale.
Since he's not busy at the moment, and after he glances over at Tamric Drubine, who is sitting on a camp stool infront of one of the fitting tent, with a few others who have already made it into the next round of the event.
The former paladin, now regular knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, makes his way through the lists, and across the field to where the stands are located. The heavily armoured knight is humming away to himself as he makes his way to the lower stand where his niece, the lady Linara is sitting with others of the nobility.
"Ah Percavelle, seems like no one wants to face you?" says lord Milburn "Sad but true" replies sir Percavelle Lé Dic as he stands near his niece and others sitting on the lowest level of the stands "No one has the will to meet their better" continues the former earl of Lé Dic, who then adds in a slightly sour tone "Unfortunately".
"Don't worry uncle, I'm sure someone will take up the challenge soon" says lady Linara Lé Dic, next to the young noble, her governess the lady Hollis, who is Percy's former sister inlaw, nods her head in agreement with her charge.
"I sure hope so Linny" says sir Percavelle, who out of the corner of his eye, notices the slight, and quick frown that appears on the face of lord Milburn when he called Linara by her nickname, Linny.
The former paladin who is normally obtuse to such things, infact he doesn't pay attention to many things around him. Because they're beneath his awareness, and they just have no interest to him.
Unless things are an advantage to him, like riling up lord Milburn gives him a sense of pleasure for some reason. Why? He has no idea. It's just so.
Then there's what the mercenary ranger, Riley Hait told him about the nobleman who is his niece's grandfather. That he should keep an eye on him whenever he's around him.
The former earl of the fief that bares his family name doesn't know why. But since the ranger Hait is the nominal leader of the group as lord Farque isn't around. The nobleborn knight takes his word for it. So he keeps an eye on lord Kievar Milburn whenever he's in his presence.
As the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che looks back across the lists to the marked off circles where the duels are taking place, he slightly nods as Linara Lé Dic, says "There's sir Galmot, he's up again".
And as the commander of the local army enters one of the circles to face one of his soldiers, sir Percavelle glances sideways at lord Milburn who says "Galmot is making a good showing of it" followed by "And i see Parvin is still in it too".
The former paladin who thinks sir Galmot the army commander is an adequate swordsman, won't get too far in the event. And thinks sir Parvin, who is one of Percy's contemporaries, who is of the same age. Was a much better duelists twenty years ago. And to be honest, is much better in a grande melee than he is in the duel contest, is lucky to still be in the event.
Says "That they are" followed by "But alas they won't get much further in the contest" he briefly pauses before adding "Especially if either one were to face me, the great sir Percavelle".
The former earl of Lé Dic briefly grins as out of the corner of his eye, he sees lord Milburn sourly smile when he mentioned himself in the first person.
Then Percy's grin disappears when the grandfather on the maternal side of lady Linara Dic, quietly says in a slightly smug tone "Or they face that young chap, you know, that friend of yours Percavelle".
"M'lord Drubine" says Linara Lé Dic, who continues with "Tamric". "Yes that's the young fellow" says Kievar Milburn, who looks at his former earl, and adds "From the kingdom of Sarcrin isn't he Percavelle?".
"Yes he is" says the heavily armoured knight who broadly smiles for sake of appearances, who then adds "Fine young fellow he is too, from a good family, and who has had all the proper knightly training" then because he can't help himself, sir Percavelle continues with "Even if he does come from a far inferior kingdom such as Sarcrin".
Lord Milburn who was more than shocked at how easily, not to mention, quickly the young foreign noble Tamric Drubine won his first duel in the tourney event that's taking place at the moment.
Puts his feelings about that to one side, as he says "Seems you might of been right about him earlier Percavelle" the grandfather of lady Linara, who might not be named the regent of the fief, definitely sees himself as one, then adds "He could very well be in the running to win this event".
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic, a boastful man, who is quite contemptuous of others, especially in regards to their abilities in things that he, himself excels at.
Does something unexpected, and swallows his pride, and with a grin upon his face, he says "Of course" followed by "I expect to face young Tam in the final round if we don't face one another before that".
The former earl of the Lé Dic fief then says "He's that good" Percy briefly pauses before continuing with "Which isn't much of surprise, since i helped train him".
Enjoying seeing the jaw of lord Milburn drop down in surprise, sir Percavelle Lé Dic grins, then he looks at his niece Linara, and his former sister inlaw the lady Hollis, performs an extravagant bow to the two of them and says "Ladies".
Before he turns and walks away, heading back across the field to the dueling event, hearing his niece Linny giggling at his flamboyant bow to her and her governess.
"That old popinjay can shove up it when the sun don't shine, as they say" sir Percavelle Lé Dic utters to himself as he crosses back across the field to where the dueling event is taking place. The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che looks away to his right, across that way along the field, and back up the road to the massive castle that's his family's ancestral home.
He feels a little odd, as he's usually the most upbeat of individuals. But he feels a slight pang of sadness at seeing the castle that he no longer rules.
It's a feeling that passes quickly, because the former earl of the fief, knows that his young niece Linara now rules the massive castle, and the fief that bares their family name.
And he sir Percavelle, intends that she will rule it for a long time. And by the gods, in particular the god Narille, who he worships. No one tries to stop her ruling it, or tries to usurp her power.
The heavily armoured knight murmurs to himself "Well done Percavelle lad, no one shall get in the way of young Linny ruling here" the former knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, then silently adds, and if anyone does, i shall vanquish the foul villain.
The nobleborn knight makes it across the lists, just as the next round is being drawn as there's just a couple of duels still being contested.
He and the remaining competitors gather around the front of the fitting tent that Tamric Drubine and a few of the others have been sitting infront of.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic is asked by one of the judges to draw first since he's yet to duel against anyone. And the former earl of the fief named after his family, draws a short straw straight away from the clenched hand of the judge.
The judge moves around infront of the other competitors. And the third one after Percy drew the short straw, a nobleman by the name of sir Gaiton, picks the other short straw in the bunch the judge is holding.
Percavelle Lé Dic is genuinely surprised when sir Gaiton doesn't forfeit as his two previous opponents did. The heavily armoured knight nods his full helmed head to his opponent.
Then the two of them make their way to the nearest of the circles that have been marked out on the ground.
Many in the crowd start chanting "Percavelle, Percavelle!" over and over again when they see their former earl is actually going to compete for the first time this afternoon.
Percy walks into the circle from one side, and sir Gaiton enters from the opposite side. The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che doesn't know much about his nobleborn opponent. Just that he knew his father, and met Gaiton himself about a dozen years ago when the younger nobleman was still a child.
As for sir Gaiton, he sees this as an amazing opportunity. He's of the opinion that sir Percavelle Lé Dic, a man now nearing his mid forties. Is no where near the swordsman he once was. And is no longer the tourney champion that he was when Gaiton was a child.
That's what the younger nobleman is thinking as he stands across the circle, facing his former earl.
The heavily armoured knight in the order of Saint Mar-che barely hears the instructions of the judge. He just nods in response to the judge, after waving to the cheering crowd, as he grins.
Now standing relatively still, with one foot infront of the other. And with his longsword pointed down at the ground in a low guard, sir Percavelle Lé Dic waits for the command to get underway. "Begin!" shouts the judge of the duel between sir Percavelle and sir Gaiton.
The former earl of the fief Lé Dic may be in his mid forties, and have grey sprinkled through his hair. But at six foot two inches tall, and weighing two hundred and twenty five pounds, the former paladin has lost none of his skill and talent with his sword.
But most importantly, even at his age. He's still not lost what has set him apart from other knights, wether they be ordered knights, or landed. Or like in his case, both. His incredible speed for someone fairly large, who is covered head to foot, in full, heavy plate armour. Add that to his overbearing confidence. He's always been a handful in combat, wether it be in a dueling circle in a tourney, or on a battlefield.
Sir Percavelle watches sir Gaiton approach swinging his sword, the former earl of Lé Dic is already swinging his own longsword. His opponents weapon doesn't even get to any closer than a couple of feet from him.
Before it goes flying through the air, after Percy's blade hits it so hard, that it's whacked out of the firm grip of sir Gaiton. And as the younger nobleborn knight stands there in shock as he no longer holds his weapon.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic nods to him, turns around and walks out of the marked off circle as the judge declares the former earl the winner. And the crowd cheer even louder "Percavelle, Percavelle!".
The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che looks across the field, and spots the disgruntled look upon the face of lord Milburn at seeing what's just happened.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic can't help but grin at this, and he murmurs to himself "Golly good old chap" followed by "It's just got going you pompous ninnyhammer, wait until later and you'll really be vexed with me" . . . . . .

The Homecoming 24.

An Event...

The duelists are all in full plate armour or half plate. Including Tamric Drubine, who gets his half plate from the sack it's carried in by Dorc da Orc. The nobleborn teenager who usually wears padded leather armour, puts on his heavier plate in one of the fitting tents on one side of the field.
He's helped by a local armourer and Riley Hait the mercenary ranger, who tells him "Be careful" as he hands the teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin his helm.
Tam nods, puts on the helm, dropping down the visor, which covers the lower half of his face, from the bridge of the nose down. After thanking the local armourer, he exits the tent, followed by the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen.
The former heir to the knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin makes his way to the lists. To where the circles where the unarmed combat event was held in the morning.
Two more circles have been marked out with crushed chalk, and the first of the duelists are already in them, as the event has got underway.
Tamric Drubine stands behind the second circle, next to his opponent, a local noble by the name of sir Olmban. A man in his early twenties, who is stockier and shorter than the near fifteen year old noble from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
Tam ignores his opponent, and looks at the two competitors in the circle that he will soon enter, this fine, and mild winter's afternoon. The nobleborn teenager doesn't really watch them, instead he clears his mind as he was taught to do.
As he knows taking part in a duel is completely different than being in a real battle. The only event in a tourney that's remotely close to actual combat, is Lé Grande Melee.
"He looks focused" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy when Riley Hait the mercenary ranger joins him and the others of the group with the exception of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is with the other competitors in the duel event.
"That he does" quietly says the mercenary ranger, who continues with "I wonder if he'll show how actually good he is?".
"He will" says Lisell Maera who continues with "Look at who teaches him" after a slight pause she adds "Especially the lord". Riley Hait, Dalinvardél Tanith and Shur Kee the monk, then Dorc da Orc all nod to that.
For Tam is taught the sword by sir Percavelle, Mira Reinholt the mage and lord Farque. All of whom, including the former paladin Percavelle, are all about the minimum of movement, and striking quickly and efficiently in not just a duel, but in battle in general.
None of them, especially lord Farque likes to waste their time when it comes to combat.
"Well here he goes" quietly says the mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait.
The ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen looks over to the stands, and spots lord Milburn, pointing towards the competitors in the event that's taking place now, as he explains something to his granddaughter the lady Linara Lé Dic.
So i wonder what you'll think of this? Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman thinks to himself as he briefly watches the nobleman who is effectively the regent of the fief. The ranger Hait then looks back to the circles where the duels are taking place, one of which Tamric Drubine has just entered.
The nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin after stepping into the marked off circle, watches his opponent sir Olmban enter the circle. Noticing the way he walks, and moves. Even the slightest of movements.
When the local nobleman stops opposite him, the two of them look at the judge who is standing off to one side of the circle, who says to him "You both know the rules". The two nobles, one local, and the other a visitor from another kingdom, nod.
The judge, an officer in the Lé Dic army, then tells them "When i give the command, you may start".
Tamric Drubine looks at his opponent, and nods his helmed head to the man, sir Olmban barely nods in return.
"Draw!" shouts the judge of the duel, both nobles, draw their longswords, they keep their eyes on one another. As Tam has his blade point down to the ground in a low guard as he's been taught, and as he prefers. While sir Olmban holds his sword in both hands, forward and sticking out to one side.
"Begin!" shouts the officer in the local army who gets the duel underway between the local nobleman, and the visiting nobleborn teenager.
The son of the former knight of castle Drubine in the kingdom of Sarcrin, is in a stance with his left boot slightly infront of his right. His point down low guard is slightly to the right of him. And he doesn't move as many other competitors in the duel have done already, or are doing at the moment, where they circle around before acting.
Tamric Drubine just watches his opponent, not watching sir Olmban's blade, or his eyes through the slot in the local nobleman's full helm. Instead the nobleborn teenager from the feudal kingdom of Sarcrin watches his opponents chest, and more importantly shoulders. As they're always the first indicator, not just in a duel with swords, but in any fight, what a person will do.
Sir Olmban moves, with his chest and right shoulder moving to the right and back, indicating he's going to swing his sword around from that side. Tam moves in response to that, much quicker and efficiently than the shorter and stockier local noble.
The goal of the duel event in a tourney is to unarm your opponent, or to incapacitate them. Without harming them in anyway, or as little as possible. True some people end up getting injured and wounded. But since killing blows are disallowed, and that everyone is in heavy armour, either full plate or half plate. Severe injuries hardly ever occur. If they do, bone setters and healers are in attendance. And in this festival tourney, the local druid who serves the lady Lé Dic is also here. He'll magically heal anyone who is unfortunate enough to get badly injured.
As his opponent's sword comes towards him, Tamric Drubine lifts his own blade up to meet it, as he does, he's stepping forward towards sir Olmban, ready to swing his longsword that he got in the elven principality of Alínlae, straight away. Far quicker than what his opponent is expecting, or realises is possible.
"Well that didn't last long" dryly says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger "I bet that hurt" says Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who winces as the local noble who is Tamric Drubine's opponent, hits the ground, dropping his sword, after Tam slams the flat of his blade against the side of his opponent's helm.
"Hehehehehe he got knocked the fuck out" says a chortling Dorc da Orc who points at the unconscious local noble who Tamric Drubine has defeated with just two sword strokes, one to block his opponent's weapon, and the other to knock him out.
"Well everybody knows now" murmurs the ranger Hait as a ripple of excitement goes through the gathered crowd, and cheers go up from many of them, at seeing how quickly and easily the visiting teenage noble won his first duel.
Amongst the other competitors, those who actually watched that particular duel. There's looks of surprise as well as concern on many of their faces.
With the exception of sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who just shrugs his heavily armoured shoulders, as he expected no less from Tamric Drubine. After all, he helps to teach the sword to the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin, and knows how good he is with a sword.
Riley Hait, along with Dalinvardél Tanith, as well as Lisell Maera. All look over to the otheside of the lists, where on that side of the field, the stands are located.
They see the look of utter surprise on the face of lord Milburn as he sits next to his granddaughter who is the lady of the fief. Even though sir Percavelle Lé Dic said the visiting teenage noble would be the only person who could compete with him in the duel event. He didn't believe it. Until now, after seeing how effortlessly, efficiently and quickly Tamric Drubine defeated the local nobleman sir Olmban, who lord Milburn knows is no slouch with a sword.
"Well that's definitely stirred things up for sure" quietly says Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson in the elven language to the spy Tanith, the mercenary ranger who was brought up and trained in the elven principality of Envadarlen continues with "With you winning the longbow class, and Lis winning with the crossbow, as well as Shur Kee with the unarmed combat, not to mention what Dorc did first thing this morning".
The ranger Hait nods to the stands on the otherside of the field and adds "Now with Tam showing how good he's with a sword, that lord Milburn has got a lot of thinking to do". The spy Tanith nods in agreement, then in elven he quietly asks "You think he'll try anything?".
The two of them, along with Lisell Maera, who unlike Shur Kee and Dorc da Orc, can understand the conversation in elven. Look towards the competitors in the event that's taking place at the moment.
"He's surrounded by a few people there, somebody might try something" quietly says the elf from the principality of Alínlae in his native language "Too many people still adore him, i don't think it'll be in a situation like that if they do try" quietly says Riley Hait, who then adds "More likely to be in a duel, or in the grande melee tomorrow afternoon".
The three of them, the mercenary ranger from Envadarlen, the spy from Alínlae, and the teenager orphan from the city-state of Brattonbury, are all looking at sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who in his overly loud, and booming voice, is talking to some of his fellow competitors. Mostly the non noble one's, as they're the one's who have always got along with their former earl.
Soldiers who have served with him in the past, and those that saw him when they were growing up. Even with his annoying voice, and the way he talks, they genuinely like the nobleman who once ruled them.
Not so, those amongst the nobility within the fief. Some of them didn't particularly care for him when he was their earl. Who was too absent in their opinion, and not a good leader.
And there's those amongst the local nobility who don't appreciate that he's returned to the fief he once ruled. They would of liked it if he had never returned, or got himself killed in some conflict in some far flung kingdom.
Chief amongst them is lord Kievar Milburn, the grandfather on the maternal side, of lady Linara Lé Dic. Who is definitely not pleased with his former son in-law's, brother showing up in the Lé Dic fief after being gone for nine years.
After glancing at Lisell Maera, Riley Hait quietly says in elven to her and the spy Tanith "Keep an eye on him". "Percy?" asks the attractive teenager from the coastal city of Brattonbury "Him too" replies the mercenary ranger, who then nods over to the stands on the otherside of the field, where lord Milburn is sitting watching the duels . . . . . .

The Homecoming 23.

A Festival Tournament...

Riley Hait the mercenary ranger slightly grimaces then mutters "Fuck" after letting the last arrow of the final round in the ranged combat event fly from his longbow.
As the two judges make their way to the targets, the ranger Hait whose final arrow hit the target, though he's not sure if it's exactly on the bullseye like his other arrows, looks over at Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy who is in the final round against him.
The elf from the principality of Alínlae who can easily see the targets over a hundred and fifty yards away, nearly four hundred and fifty feet, basically half the length of the large field down from castle Lé Dic where the tourney is taking place.
Has a wide grin upon his youthful looking face as he looks at the mercenary ranger who was raised and trained by the elven warders in the principality of Envadarlen.
"Fuck" mutters the ranger Hait again when Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy says to him "I wonder who's looking after Dorc until lord Farque shows up?" the grinning elven spy pauses for a moment then he adds "I know it's not me".
The mercenary ranger who in actual fact is really a hordes outrider from the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson, who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait, mutters "Fuck" once more, and sourly smiles.
The ranger Hait shakes his head as the judge at the spy Tanith's target lifts up the red coloured flag to indicate the winner. And as the crowd cheers, Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman says "Well done" to the elven spy.
Dalin wins a longbow and quiver of newly made arrows, which though well made, is clearly inferior to his and the ranger Hait's elven made weapons, or even the longbows used by Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine.
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae gives the longbow and arrows he won to the third place getter, a local huntsman, who is more than appreciative to get a newer and better bow than he has currently.
He thanks the spy Tanith, and clutches his new bow as he walks away to his nearby family, who like him, has traveled from the east of the fief to take part in the late winter festival tourney.
There's a break for the midday meal, or more precisely feast, as food has been cooking, since last night, and throughout the morning. For those who are attending the tourney, as well as those taking part in it.
The group of Riley Hait, Dalinvardél Tanith, Dorc da Orc, Shur Kee the monk, Lisell Maera and Tamric Drubine. Sit upon the ground and on wooden camp stools infront of one of the tents as the late winter's day, which started out quite cool, has turned out to be a pretty mild day.
The group of foreign visitors, not just to the Lé Dic fief, but to the kingdom of Druvic itself, are joined by sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who was just chatting to his niece, the lady Linara Lé Dic, and others.
As sir Percavelle gets something to eat, and carries out a stool from within the tent, and sits down with the others, the ranger Hait nods towards both the former earl of Lé Dic, and Tamric Drubine, and says to them "Just the two of you left for today".
Tam nods, while sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who takes a mug of ale from the tray of a passing servant, says "Indeed my fine fellow" the heavily armoured knight glances at the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin and adds "It shall be between me and the youngster here in the final I'm sure of it" Percy pauses then says "That's unless of course we shall meet in an earlier round, where i shall be victorious of course, no slight against you young man, but I'm just so much better than you are".
Tamric Drubine faintly smiles and takes no offence at what the former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che just said. While Riley Hait, Dalinvardél Tanith and Lisell Maera all roll their eyes at the boasting of the heavily armoured knight. And Shur Kee the monk, like Tam, just shakes his head at the comments of the nobleborn knight.
Meanwhile Dorc da Orc mutters "Choke on your pork chop there ya cunt" as he sourly smiles at sir Percavelle who is chewing away on a pork chop. The large ork, who'd only admit to himself, deep within his brain, that the former earl of Lé Dic is actually any good in a fight.
Looks over at Tamric Drubine, then says to everyone "Me fucken think Tam is gonna win". Sir Percavelle shakes his head and sourly smiles, but doesn't say anything in response to the large ork who he knows is only trying to goad him into an argument.
"You fucken know why?" says Dorkindle who grins, then with the ox leg he's gnawing on, which he points in the direction of Tamric Drubine, he adds "He got his magicky fucken sword".
The former paladin in the order of Saint Mar-che blinks in surprise, then he looks sharply at the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin. And though sir Percavelle Lé Dic has his own magical sword, it's too short, and not fit to be used in a duel against an opponent with a longsword.
Unlike Tam's magical weapon, which is indeed a longsword, which can protect him from being hit when he wants it to.
The former earl of Lé Dic, who like the others are all looking at Tamric Drubine, says "Now here, you can't be using a weapon such as that in a tourney". "Yes he can cunt" says the ork warleader who is trying to goad the heavily armoured knight into an argument with him.
Then remembering something from when he first met sir Percavelle nearly nine years ago, the large ork from the southern polar region says "You used that fucken magicky sword of yours in that melee we was in all those years ago cunt" Dorkindle whose eyes are wide, grins then adds "Remember, when me beats you and take that magicky fucken sword from you".
Percy sourly smiles at the mention of that very first encounter with the large ork, then he clears his throat and says "No such thing occurred".
While the warleader of the ork race says in astonishment "Why you lying fucken cunt" sir Percavelle quickly says to the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin "You won't be allowed to use the magical, and frankly evil properties of that sword of yours young man" the heavily armoured knight continues with "My young niece has a druid in her service, who I'll assume will alert the judges of our contest if you use the magical power your weapon possess".
"Fucken blowhard making up shit" mutters Dorkindle after hearing what the former earl of Lé Dic just said. "Don't worry Percy, i have no intention of using the magic my sword has" says Tamric Drubine who pauses for a moment, before he continues with "I don't need to use it, because i have every intention of beating you with my own skill and ability" he pauses once more, then adds "Of course that's if and when we meet one another".
While sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks utterly flabbergasted that Tam would suggest he'd beat him in a duel. Riley Hait, Dalinvardél Tanith, Shur Kee and Lisell Maera all look at one another.
They can appreciate the confidence in the former heir to castle Drubine in the north of the kingdom of Sarcrin. And for someone who is near fifteen years old, he's extremely well trained and skilled with a sword. None of them yet think he's a match for sir Percavelle Lé Dic, and could defeat the former paladin in a duel.
Not so Dorc da Orc, who barks in laughter at the incredulous look upon the face of the nobleman who once ruled the Lé Dic fief, then the weaponsmith from the wolf tribe of orks looks over at the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin and tells him "Ha! That's it" followed by "Fuck him up Tammy".
"Tammy?" mutters the son of the former knight of castle Drubine who isn't too keen on Dorc da Orc calling him that again.
"Well, whatever happens" says Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson after a little while of silence, apart from Dorc da Orc chuckling away to himself and murmuring to himself in the ork language about something, as he sits there on the ground, grinning from ear to ear, while staring at the former earl of Lé Dic.
"We'll find out later this afternoon" adds the mercenary ranger from the elven principality of Envadarlen, as the duels are expected to begin after the feast, and continue throughout the afternoon.
They may carry on tomorrow morning if the competitors aren't whittled down enough. For tomorrow is reserved for the joust, and the grande melee, which will end the late winter festival tourney here at castle Lé Dic.
They continue their meal, with sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine occasionally glancing at one another. With the younger noble feeling confident with the chances of at least matching the local nobleman, if not beating him if they should face off against one another in a duel.
While the former paladin has a slightly startled look upon his face whenever he looks at the nobleborn teenager from the kingdom of Sarcrin.
It's doubt the heavily armoured knight is feeling. Something he's not accustomed to, and frankly something he doesn't particularly enjoy.
All the while, Dorc da Orc continues to chuckle and murmur to himself in his native language while he watches Percy. Though that's when he's not shoveling food into his large gob, or alternatively drinking everything in sight.
The feast is soon over, and the call for those participating in the duel is put forth. This is the first of the three prestigious events in the tourney, or any tournament for that matter.
And quite a number of local nobles are taking part in it. This being the first event that any local noble is a part of.
The others taking part in it, are soldiers, predominantly officers. Or those soldiers deemed highly skilled with a sword.
The only non local taking part in the duel. Is a visiting nobleborn teenager  from the kingdom of Sarcrin. Who along with other competitors, make his way to the front of the tent closest to where the stands are located. There straws are drawn to see who will face up against who, in the first round of the event.
Tamric Drubine has to draw three times before he eventually draws a short straw. He's not until later in the first round, and he's up against a local nobleman in the first round.
Not so, sir Percavelle Lé Dic who draws one of the first short straws. And he's up against an experienced soldier, who immediately forfeits. And will have to fight an extra duel to progress to the next round.
While the former earl of Lé Dic is the first person through to the next round, without even doing anything. And without the first duel actually taking place.
It's just the start of a long afternoon for this event in the late winter tournament here at castle Lé Dic . . . . . .

The Homecoming 22.

A Field...

Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy turns around and says "Here she comes" in his native language when he spots Lisell Maera walking across the field towards them.
Riley Hait the mercenary ranger looks back and spots the orphan teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury approaching them and the other competitors in the archery event, or to be exact, the ranged weapon event.
"Thought you weren't going to turn up" quietly says Riley Hait the mercenary ranger in elven "I thought about not" is the quiet reply of Lisell Maera in the same language as she stands beside the mercenary from the elven principality of Envadarlen and the spy from the elven principality of Alínlae.
There's more than a few looks in their direction from the other competitors, mostly soldiers in the army of the fief, and a handful of commoners, who are huntsmen and foresters.
And though some are eyeing up the attractive near eighteen year old young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury, who is the only female competitor, not just in this event, but any event in the tourney that celebrates the late winter festival.
Lis is pretty sure most of them are looking at the bows of the ranger Hait and the spy Tanith. The elven made longbows are something you don't exactly see that often, and the locals know that you have to be an expert archer to use one.
"I've got no show against you two" quietly says Lisell Maera in elven as a sergeant at arms in the army of the fief explains the rules in the event.
"They've got a separate crossbow class that you can go in" quietly says Riley Hait in the same language, who continues with "You don't have to go in the hunting bow and longbow class".
The attractive teen looks quickly at the spy Tanith, who notices her look, and tells her in elven "Don't worry, I'm not going in the crossbow class" he continues with "It'll just be you and the locals" Dalin pauses for a brief moment before adding "Seeing some of them shoot over the last week or so, i reckon you've got a good chance of winning".
As the ranger Hait nods in agreement with what Dalinvardél Tanith just said. Lis breathes a sigh of relief, as she knew she would have no chance of winning against the elven spy with his light crossbow and it's extendable stock and bow arm.
"Hell it's not that difficult, there's the targets and we have to hit them" dryly says Riley Hait in elven as the sergeant at arms who is one of the judges of this particular event continues to explain the rules.
The targets are at one end of the field, the hay bales have a circular target painted on them with whitewash. With a center target or bullseye painted in the middle of that.
Each competitor is given an allocated number of shafts to shoot at the target. And with the highest number of shafts hitting within the circle on the target, or on the bullseye. You progress to the next distance in the event. Those with the lowest number of shots on target drop out of the event, while the others progress to the next distance. This is repeated until there's a winner.
"No speed competition, pity" murmurs the mercenary ranger from Envadarlen who is really a hordes outrider the southern tundra by the name of Zubutai Timaginson who just happens to inhabit the body of Riley Hait.
Dalinvardél Tanith the elven spy nods his hooded head in agreement with the ranger Hait. As a speed competition is the only thing that would push his and the mercenary ranger's ability with a bow.
"At least his royal thiefness isn't here" quietly says the spy Tanith, who then adds "He'd kick our ass in this competition if he was". "That's for sure" quietly says the mercenary ranger, who then says to Lisell Maera "Looks like you and the crossbowmen are up first".
The teenage orphan from the coastal city of Brattonbury nods her head, and she moves forward with the other competitors who are in the crossbow class. There's less than twenty of them, all of whom with the exception of Lis, are soldiers in the Lé Dic army. Since it's frowned upon for commoners to have a crossbow in the kingdom of Druvic.
The attractive teenager from the west coast of the Southlands looks away to the right as she walks when she hears her name get called out. She slightly grins when she spots Shur Kee the monk who waves to her.
The short, statured monk who won the unarmed combat event earlier, is standing with Dorc da Orc at the edge of the gathered crowd. The large ork who is drinking some of his winnings from the strongman competition in the games first thing this morning. Just nods to Lis as she walks by.
The young woman from the city-state of Brattonbury is definitely getting most of the attention from the crowd, and those sitting in the stands on the otherside of the field.
Which is a given really, since she's the only female competitor in any event in both the games and the tourney, that's held over two days.
Lis looks back and to the left, and spots Tamric Drubine sitting next to sir Percavelle Lé Dic in the stands where the nobility and others of importance in the fief are sitting.
She wonders if the two of them have placed a bet on her in this, the crossbow class in the ranged weapon event. She kind of hopes they have,
She figures they'll definitely bet on either Riley Hait or Dalinvardél Tanith, or probably both when it comes to the bow class. It's a sure bet that either one of them will win that event.
The crossbow class of the event starts at distance of twenty five yards, and you have to shoot half of your quarrels in a prone position, which is on a knee.
This is what Lis and three other competitors first up do, as there's only four targets in the event to shoot at.
As the teenager from the city-state of Brattonbury fires off shot after shot, far quicker than her competitors as her crossbow doesn't need to be wound back into firing position due to a clever sliding design, created by Dorc da Orc for Shur Kee the monk, whose weapon it originally was.
Dalinvardél Tanith quietly says in elven to the mercenary ranger from the principality of Envadarlen "She's far better than those three she's shooting against at the moment".
The elven spy from the principality of Alínlae whose eyesight is far superior to anyone else's continues with "Every bolt of her's has hit the bullseye or near it".
"She should take this event out with ease" quietly says Riley Hait in the same language as they stand with the other bowmen about twenty yards behind the crossbow competitors, on this clear winter's day, that's warming up as it nears midday.
"As i want her too" quietly says the mercenary ranger who is really a hordes outrider, the spy Tanith glances sideways at the shorter human, and quietly says to him "You sure this will make the point you want it to?".
"I hope so" quietly says Riley aka Zubutai the barbarian hordesman, who then turns slightly to the left, to look back to the otherside of the lists, to where the stands are located on that side of the field.
"Let me rephrase that" quietly says the elven spy who continues with "Do you think it'll make a point to those that will count?" as he too looks to the stands where the nobility and those of importance in the fief are sitting watching the tourney.
"That's the question isn't it" murmurs the mercenary ranger who was raised and trained by the elven warders of Envadarlen, as they look at some of those sitting in the front row of the stands.
"Any of the others know?" quietly asks the elf who was once in the service of one of the more prominent noble houses in the principality of Alínlae.
"Lis might" is the quiet reply of the ranger Hait, who continues with "Tam certainly does". "Shur Kee?" asks Dalinvardél Tanith, Riley Hait shakes his head no, and the elven spy asks him "Percy?" followed by "Dorc?".
"Really?" dryly says Riley Hait who then adds in that same dry tone "Those two?". "Sorry, dumb question" murmurs Dalin, who like the ranger Hait is looking at who is sitting directly infront and below sir Percavelle Lé Dic and Tamric Drubine.
The young girl who rules the fief, lady Linara Lé Dic and her grandfather, lord Milburn, who is effectively her regent.
"Well Lis has got his attention" quietly says Dalinvardél Tanith who watches lord Kievar Milburn who is frowning in consternation while watching the crossbow class in the ranged weapon event.
"He looks more annoyed than when Shur Kee was beating the crap out of everyone who came up against him earlier" adds Riley Hait, the spy Tanith nods his hooded head in agreement with the mercenary ranger, who continues in a slightly dry tone with "Doesn't help that Percy is probably talking crap to him as well".
"There is that" says Dalin who listens carefully hoping to hear what's being talked about in the stands on the otheside of the field. He can hear it, but there's too many conversations going on for his naturally enhanced hearing to pick up what's specifically being talked about.
Then he grins as he suddenly hears the oh so familiar voice of sir Percavelle Lé Dic loudly place a fairly decent size bet on Lisell Maera to win the crossbow class of the tourney event that's taken place at the moment.
"What is it?" quietly asks Riley aka Zubutai Timaginson when he sees the elven spy grinning "Percy has just placed a large bet on Lis to win" replies Dalin "No wonder Milburn looks like he's just bitten into something rotten" says the ranger Hait.
Who rubs his chin, then looks sideways at the taller elf standing beside him, then says to him "Want a bet on who'll win between me and you?".
Dalinvardél Tanith turns and looks at the ranger Hait, who like him, has come to the conclusion that either one of them will easily win the bow class of the ranged combat event of the tourney.
Both the elven spy and the mercenary ranger are expert archers. Though they don't have the ability and superior skills of Helbe the elven thief who is after all a master archer. They're better than most other bowmen you'll likely to encounter. With the ranger Hait having pure naturally ability to go along with the elven longbow he wields.
While the spy Tanith, who is actually better with his crossbow than he is with a longbow, has years and years of experience at his disposal to go along with his weapon, which of course is elven made.
The two are evenly matched, who on any given day, could best one another in a shooting match. Which has often been the case when they've practiced the bow together.
"Whoever loses babysits Dorc until lord Farque turns up" says Riley Hait "Fuck that, I'd rather lose a hundred gold coins than do that" says Dalinvardél Tanith "I know, same" says the mercenary ranger, who then grins before he adds "So it's a bet then?".
"Hell" mutters the elf from the principality of Alínlae, who then grins himself, and says "You're on". The two shake hands, then after a slight pause, the ranger Hait says "I hope I'm not going to regret this". "It's your damn bloody bet you came up with" says Dalin with a shake of his head who then adds "You can't go back on it now".
The two of them after seeing that Lisell Maera has finished shooting all her bolts in the first round of the crossbow class. Turn and look at the crowd on this side of the field. Where Dorc da Orc, who is standing next Shur Kee the monk, is easy to spot.
The mercenary ranger and the elven spy wonders if that is pretty much the most stupid bet that either one of them has come up with, and the other accepted. And that they now regret as they watch the large ork down an entire barrel of ale in one go . . . . . .