The Homecoming 32.

Amongst The Lists...

There's just five of them remaining in the grande melee. All nobleborn, and all, with the exception of one, in a suit of full plate armour. That being squire Mercent, squire to a knight, sir Barid, who was knocked out fairly early in the  final event of the tourney.
The young squire is in half plate armour. Unlike the four who are in suits of full plate. Those four being the army commander sir Galmot, who only donned his heavy armour for the grande melee.
Lord Kievar Milburn and his grandson Jared Milburn. And finally sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who is hardly ever out of his suit of full plate armour.
The five of them have moved back to the center of the roped off area on the tourney field, to be amongst the lists.
They're all looking at one another as the crowd cheers them all on, as the final event of the tourney has gone on for quite some time this afternoon, as is often the case for lé grande melee.
There's a silent mutual agreement from the last five competitors for a slight pause so that they get can get their breath back, and regather themselves.
As they do, lord Milburn who is leaning against one of the posts in the middle of the muddy field, says "That cape isn't looking that white or pure, and clean anymore Percavelle".
Glancing back at his muddy cape, sir Percavelle Lé Dic shrugs, then looks at his niece's grandfather, and says to him "Unfortunately true Kievar". He grins as he knows lord Milburn hates being called by his first name.
As it turns out to be, as the local lord sourly smiles at the mention of his given name.
"But it's neither here or there, since all know, that i the great sir Percavelle, is so true of heart, that my appearance doth not have to be clean, that I'm always pure no matter what" says the grinning former earl of the fief.
"Blowhard" mutters lord Milburn under his breath. And though sir Galmot and Jared Milburn didn't hear that. They definitely agree with the sentiment.
As for sir Barid's squire Mercent, he's trying to get his breath back, and stop from wincing in pain as he's been hit more than a few times during the grande melee.
After glancing at the young squire, the heavily armoured knight in the order of Saint Mar-che looks at the other three. All of whom have a small wooden handled implement on their belts. The steel rod like implement can't be seen itself, as it's tucked beneath their wide belts.
The former paladin who has the visor of his full helm up, looks at lord Milburn, Jared Milburn and sir Galmot, then says to all three of them "You do know that there can only be one winner in the melee?".
"Of course" says Jared Melee, who snorts at the obvious statement of the former earl of the fief.
"Ah i see the not yet knight speaks" says the former knight of the first class, which causes Jared Milburn to scowl in annoyance, as he hates to be reminded that he has yet to be knighted.
"Then you'll have to turn on one another eventually" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic who has noticed that the three, lord Milburn, his grandson Jared, along with sir Galmot the army commander have yet to attack one another during the grande melee.
And it doesn't seem likely that they will, until they've knocked down or thrown over the rope, squire Mercent. And eliminated Percavelle himself.
The former earl of Lé Dic is under no illusion that the three are planning to eliminate him, as in kill him. Not only hearing the warning from sir Parvin Dé Gorveré about the three of them earlier.
But also with what the former paladin has seen since, where all three of them have kept a close watch on him, as they've teamed up on those who remained in the grande melee. Until now, where there's just the five of them left.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che faintly smiles as the three all glance at one another. Especially young Jared, who is already thinking about what he'll do once the former earl of Lé Dic, and squire Mercent are no longer in the picture.
After a few moments pause, sir Percavelle Lé Dic says "Not that it matters since i intend to eliminate, sorry wrong phrase there, i mean knock the three of you out myself".
"We'll see about that" says lord Milburn "Yes, let's" says the former knight of the first rank, who slaps close his visor, and hefts the two hammers he's holding, as he adds "Time is a wasting gentlemen, the day is growing long, and I'm to win the grande melee for the people, who of course want me, not you, to win".
The former paladin waves to the cheering crowd, then takes a step forward. That's the signal for the others that the brief respite is over, and they too move to attack their targets.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic takes just one step forward, then he throws the hammer is his right gauntleted hand when he sees Jared Milburn reaching for the small wooden handle at his belt.
The knight in the order of Saint Mar-che throws the pick hammer, making sure that the back end of the hammerhead is what strikes it's target.
Young Jared Milburn screams in pain and drops to the muddy ground with the pick hammer, stuck in his left shoulder, with the pick end easily puncturing his full plate armour with how hard sir Percavelle threw it.
Blood can be seen as the young nobleman takes a hold of the hammer handle to pull the pick end out, he groans in pain as he fails to pull it free.
Lord Milburn who stopped when he saw his grandson to the right of him, drop to the ground screaming in pain. Yells a roar of anger, and charges sir Percavelle Lé Dic. Forgoing a coordinated attack against the former earl of the fief, that he along with his grandson, and the army commander sir Galmot were intending to do.
The former paladin quickly reaches down and grabs a handful of mud, then he takes a couple of steps sideways, forcing lord Milburn to slightly change direction. The one time earl of the fief, throws the wad of mud, striking the visor and eye slots of the full helm of lord Milburn.
"Damn it!" yells the oldest of the remaining competitors in the grande melee who is temporarily blinded. He swings his ball headed mace from side to side with one hand, while trying to wipe the mud from his visor with the other.
Sir Percavelle Lé Dic looks quickly in the direction of sir Galmot, who has his hammer in one hand, and the small, sharp rod like implement he's taken from his belt, which he's clutching in his other hand as he advances on his former earl.
But the army commander has briefly forgotten about the remaining competitor in the final event of the tourney, the young squire Mercent.
Sir Barid's squire has moved up behind sir Galmot, and swings his broadsword at the back of the army commanders legs. The flat of the blade whacks the nobleman's legs, and he yelps in pain from the impact on his armour, before stumbling forward, and falling onto the ground, landing on his hands and knees.
"First thing first Percy lad" the former earl of Lé Dic says to himself, who turns back and runs at lord Milburn after he throws the square headed hammer at the downed sir Galmot. The hammer clips the helm of the army commander with a resounding clang. Sir Galmot who is on his hands and knees, slumps to his face, unconscious.
"That's better" mutters lord Kievar Milburn after wiping some of the mud from the eye slot of his full helm. The grandfather of lady Linara Lé Dic then blinks in surprise at what he suddenly sees coming towards him "By the gods" murmurs an astonished lord Milburn.
Just then he's hits in the front of his slightly pointed helm by the steel boots of sir Percavelle Lé Dic who has just preformed a perfectly executed  dropkick.
"Ha! Take that!" says the heavily armoured knight in the order of Saint Mar-che as lord Milburn is flung backwards onto a post, with the front of his helm smashed in. The back of the older nobleman's helm smacks off the post, and he drops to the ground in a daze .
The former earl of Lé Dic who is surprised that he got up so high, as the footing across this part of the lists isn't particularly good. Rolls after landing on the ground, then pushes himself up, and stands up, then taking a mace from the back of his belt, he turns to face the remaining competitor in the grande melee who is still standing.
The former knight of the first rank lifts the visor of his full helm and grins. After a couple of moments, the young squire standing a dozen paces away from him, does likewise.
"Well done young squire" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who gestures at the three incapacitated noblemen lying nearby. "You did a hell of a lot better than this low handed lot did" adds the former earl of the fief, who briefly pauses to wave in acknowledgment to the cheering crowd.
"There you go youngster, play to the crowd" says the heavily armoured knight, who continues with "They do enjoy that kind of thing".
"Yes my lord, i mean sir Percavelle" says squire Mercent, who turns his head and looks at the crowd on either side of the stands, who are cheering for the last two competitors in the grande melee who are still standing. Sir Barid's squire, just sixteen years old, waves to the crowd, who cheer loudly for him.
"See there you go" says the former earl of Lé Dic, who after quickly glancing at lord Milburn and sir Galmot, both of whom are knocked out. And at Jared Milburn, who is lying on the ground nearby, groaning in pain, and weeping as a pick hammer is lodge in his left shoulder.
Says to the young nobleborn squire "Right then, shall we do this young squire?".
Mercent, squire to sir Barid, gulps. As he never thought he'd be here. One of the last two competitors in the final event of the tourney, lé grande melee.
And that he would be facing the great sir Percavelle Lé Dic. A legend, not just in the fief he once ruled, nor just here in the east of the kingdom. But throughout all of Druvic. Who has only returned to the kingdom of his birth, after being gone for more than eight years.
The young squire who only met the former earl a couple of times as a child, nods his head, and says in a tone of confidence, that he does not feel "I'm ready".
"That's the spirit lad" says a grinning sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who lowers the visor of his full helm, and nods to his sole remaining competitor.
Squire Mercent drops down the visor of his own helm, and nods to the heavily armoured knight opposite him.
Then with his broadswords raised, he moves forward to face the former earl of the fief, who lifts his mace as he advances towards him.
Just a little while later, the young squire is blinking his eyes, trying to clear his head as he lies on his back on the muddy ground amongst the lists.
He looks up, and after shaking his head, and with him hearing the sound of the nearby crowd cheering loudly, he takes the offered hand above him.
Mercent, squire to sir Barid, gets up off the ground with the aid from sir Percavelle Lé Dic.
That former earl of the fief raises up the hand of the young squire, much to the delight of the cheering crowd, many of whom are repeatedly chanting "Percavelle, Percavelle!".
"You did splendidly young fellow" says the knight in the order of Saint Mar-che, who then adds "Your first melee i gather?".
"My first tourney sir" admits the young squire "You did well" says sir Percavelle Lé Dic, who then quietly tells squire Mercent "Not to worry, i didn't win my first melee either" he continues with "You'll win in the future I'm sure".
The former earl of Lé Dic nods to the young squire, then he gathers up his two hammers. Yanking the pick hammer out of the shoulder of young Jared Milburn, who screams in pain, then promptly faints.
Then with his visor raised, and a grin upon his face, sir Percavelle Lé Dic, winner of lé grande melee in the tourney to celebrate the late winter festival here in the fief that bares his family's name. Waves to the cheering crowd as he makes his way from amongst the lists . . . . . .