V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (13)
V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (13)
The second day's jousting proceeded without any special incident.
The matches Keldric was assigned were the twenty‑fourth, the thirty‑first, and the thirty‑fourth.
All three knights were more seasoned than Sir Bruno, whom he had faced on the first day, and they were also larger in build.
Yet Keldric defeated the three without much difficulty. More troublesome opponents kept appearing as the rounds progressed, but so far they remained at a level Keldric could overwhelm.
"Impressive. Sir, you faced three men just today."
As Sir Henri remarked, it was a rather remarkable feat.
Looking at the situation alone, an unknown newcomer knight whose very name no one had heard of had appeared in the tournament like a morning star, and every knight he encountered was sent flying with a single blow.
Of course, those glorious victories hadn't simply rolled into his hands for free.
"Breathe slowly. That's it. Good..."
Keldric slowly stroked Boreas's mane; the horse looked exhausted.
Today alone, matches had been fought across a total of three bouts.
Among them, the first bout had been settled with a single charge, but during the second and third bouts that followed, Keldric too had been forced to make three or four charges each.
Part of it was that the opposing knights' skill had improved, but part of it was also that Keldric still wasn't fully accustomed to the joust.
There was a considerable gap between learning mounted combat from Sir Volfen and facing knights who had fought real battle after real battle, and that gap was noticeably wider than he had expected.
Because of that, Boreas alone had been put through hell.
With only short rest periods, he had had to charge at full power again and again, so it was only natural that he was thoroughly worn out.
Keldric dismounted from Boreas and walked, holding the reins.
It wasn't as though the other knights' horses were in any better condition, so there was nothing to feel awkward about.
"Oh... That fellow, the one from the rumors..."
"Mm. I heard he defeated Sir Gaspare today."
"He was impressive, I'll grant. From what little I heard, they say he's eighteen?"
"Younger than I thought."
As Keldric strode on, leading Boreas, several nobles passed beside him, murmuring among themselves.
Keldric, whose ears were sharp, heard the talk and gave an awkward, dry cough.
Just two days ago nothing like this had happened, yet now, little by little, people who recognized Keldric were beginning to appear.
It also meant Keldric's renown was gradually spreading.
Among the nobles who had already gathered in Bogenberg to watch the tournament, Keldric's name was already cropping up from time to time.
Thanks to that, several nobles had approached Keldric and tried to recruit him, but Keldric politely declined each time so as not to cause offense.
'They're just looking to use me.'
It would be nice if landed nobles genuinely took an interest and brought him into their service, but nobles like that wouldn't easily hand over a fief.
Not every knight who came to serve a lord received a fief. Most knights still drew a stipend from their lord and lived the life of a landless knight.
The motives of the nobles who approached Keldric were mostly similar.
They'd grant a fief if he served loyally for five years, or if he drove out every last barbarian plundering their lands, they'd grant the right to collect taxes from some village...
Keldric was considerably interested in building his name and gaining land that was his own, but he had no wish for a knight's life spent doing another man's dirty work for years without a single fief.
"What do you think, gentlemen?"
"There's nothing to discuss. Isn't it true that you, Sir, have no need to accept their offers? Just cut off your interest."
"I agree on that point. They're the sort who want you to lay down your life on the battlefield while giving you nothing but a pittance of a wage. Sir Keldric could end up with a ring through his nose."
Sir Henri and Sir Alan felt the same way.
The two of them, who had begun their knightly careers earlier than Keldric, already had a rough idea of what schemes the nobles who approached them were harboring.
A time when he would have to serve a lord would perhaps come, one day. But it wouldn't be too late to think about that after the tournament ended.
"...Sir Alan. Are you all right?"
"Ugh... Honestly, I feel as if I'm dying. I think my back is ruined."
Keldric looked at Sir Alan, who was walking supported by Sir Henri, with a mixture of sympathy and bemusement.
Although Sir Alan had been defeated on the first day of competition, one defeat didn't mean no further chances were given.
In this tournament, even knights who were defeated were given another opportunity. For Sir Alan, today had been that opportunity.
The match granted today was a chance to redeem the previous day's loss.
And Sir Alan had risen above defeat and won with dignity.
"Utterly pitiful. Every last one of these Britas knights—nothing but weaklings?"
"Still, he won, didn't he? Let's not scold him too harshly."
"Well... Sir Keldric has a point, but..."
The price had been a backache so sharp it felt electric just to look at.
Because he had been struck in the side with a lance rather than the chest, Sir Alan couldn't even sit properly on a horse and had to shuffle along, leaning on someone for support.
"Does the joust continue tomorrow as well?"
Keldric asked, a slightly fed-up expression on his face.
The jousting that had stretched over two days up to today had been absorbing and enjoyable, but it placed a heavy burden on the body.
Boreas wasn't the only one who was tired. Keldric himself was feeling a touch of fatigue.
Three matches. Saying "only three" was easy, but holding a lance straight and absorbing the impact atop a warhorse that was jolting and heaving wildly was no small ordeal.
"From what I've heard, no. They say starting tomorrow it changes to group combat."
"Not a melee?"
"I've heard there's no melee at this tournament. If you wanted a melee, you should've gone to watch a tournament in the Kingdom of the Franks."
The Bogenberg Tournament's events were divided into three types.
Along with the joust, the tournament's most popular event, there was group combat where knights fought divided into teams, and a one‑on‑one duel on foot.
Of these, the joust took place over a total of two days, and any knight who suffered two defeats or more was eliminated entirely.
"Group combat, then... Are the teams distinguished by the color of a cloth?"
"Correct. Sir, you're the blue cloth, and I'm the yellow cloth."
"I hope we meet in the field."
"...I hope I don't."
Shuddering, Sir Alan discreetly and with evident distaste excused himself.
Sir Henri was just as reluctant to face Keldric, so this time no teasing remark calling Sir Alan a coward came from him.
"Alisa."
"Yes. Sir Keldric."
"Looks like you've... made a fair bit of money."
Keldric eyed Alisa, who was cradling a pouch the size of two fists and grinning broadly, with a bemused expression.
As expected, the contents of the pouch were a dazzling spectacle of gleaming silver coins mixed with a few gold pieces. It was practically a small fortune.
It was thanks to having bet her entire fortune on Keldric to win.
Keldric was pleased by the fact that she trusted him, but seeing Alisa throw in every last coin without a moment's hesitation placed no small amount of pressure on him.
If he were to lose even once at this rate...
"I'll be counting on you again tomorrow. Sir Keldric."
"Ah... Right."
Even a monkey will fall from a tree once in a while, and no matter how well a knight fights, he can still topple face-first into the mud.
Keldric had to do his utmost not to end up in the monkey's position.
Of course, there was nothing in particular that worried him greatly.
'Now I can fight a little more comfortably.'
The group combat that followed the joust was conducted on foot, so it was practically an event tailor‑made for Keldric.
Keldric too fiddled with the likewise swollen pouch at his own bosom and let a faint smile slip.
Because of his winning streak the payout had shrunk sharply, but missing a chance to earn money was still a foolish thing to do.
If he was going to do it anyway, he might as well make a big score and go home.
That was Keldric's approach to the tournament.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
The third morning of the Bogenberg Tournament dawned.
The tournament, which had opened with the matches of the renowned Sir Ortvin and Sir Rupert, had now barely reached the third day, yet the fervor showed no sign of cooling.
On the contrary, nobles from the surrounding area who hadn't yet come to watch the tournament were steadily gathering in Bogenberg. The reason for that, naturally, lay not with the events but with the organizers.
"Sir Theodore is coming?"
"So they say. He wasn't even visible until yesterday; perhaps he had an urgent matter nearby."
Sir Henri answered Keldric's question somewhat curtly.
And that was understandable, because the expression on Sir Alan's face as he stood beside Sir Henri was truly a sight to behold.
A large, strapping fellow with his eyes shining bright like a child's was something even Keldric found off‑putting.
"Sir Theodore! Lord Bogenberg has made a most excellent choice!"
"...When it comes to Sir Theodore, there's no helping it. Damn it! Why didn't they invite an outstanding knight from the Kingdom of the Franks?!"
"Surely because no figure surpasses Sir Theodore? Sir Keldric, aren't you also looking forward to meeting Sir Theodore?"
"Ah, well..."
Sir Theodore, the "Silver Lion" of House Mistfall.
Apart from that, he was a knight so staggeringly famous that he also bore epithets such as the Fierce Assault in the Mist, the Strategist, and the Knight of Knights.
Sir Alan seemed profoundly moved by the news that a renowned knight from the Kingdom of Britas was coming to attend as a spectator.
If pressed, Keldric was also rather looking forward to it, in his own way.
If a knight that famous came to watch the matches, merely catching his eye could multiply the avenues of opportunity available to choose from without end.
Perhaps he might even be able to converse with Sir Theodore about this and that.
Or, it wouldn't be bad if Sir Theodore personally took part in the matches and Keldric could learn a thing or two.
"Alisa. You'd know of Sir Theodore as well, wouldn't you?"
"Yes. Because he is a famous personage. He is one of the knights who, when they set out on the Holy Land Reconquest Campaign, received a weapon blessed by His Holiness the Pope."
Like Sir Werner of House Henzer, Sir Theodore was also a knight who had taken part in the Holy Land Reconquest Campaign and distinguished himself with outstanding merit.
From what he'd heard, he'd smashed the heathen army by exploiting unfamiliar terrain features as though possessed by a spirit.
From what he'd heard, light had spilled from his sword and swept away the wicked heathen horde in a single stroke.
From what he'd heard, having received God's blessing, he had conjured seawater in mid‑air and drowned the enemy's army...
'That seems like absurd exaggeration.'
By common sense, it was nonsense. That sort of thing wasn't possible even with magic.
"We need only give a proper account of ourselves in the matches. Let's set aside other peripheral matters for the time being."
"No, Sir Keldric! Sir Theodore's coming is a peripheral matter?"
Catching Sir Theodore's eye? All well and good.
However, before that, Keldric needed to win his matches.
Not just win, either; he needed an overwhelming victory.
And an event where men fought on foot wielding their own weapons was precisely the type of match Keldric had the most confidence in.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Unlike the joust, the group combat was fought with every man dismounted.
Red Paulownia Team, Yellow Rapeseed Team, Blue Dragoon Team, and Green Woodpecker Team.
The knights, divided into four teams in total, were then split again into two within each team, and those split‑up knights formed one side that fought against a team of a different color.
Keldric silently pulled his helm over his head and gripped the mace in his hand tightly.
The shield in his left hand and the single mace he'd received from Sir Werner, along with a cheap mace and a shortsword hanging at his belt, one each.
That was the armament Keldric had brought.
He could have used the longsword he was confident in, but the longsword, whose edge would certainly be damaged every time he used it, had to be reserved for carefully chosen moments.
"Sir Keldric of House Bellaf. Even if we cannot gain victory, let us fight honorably."
"I wish for a glorious victory."
The knights assigned to the same team as Keldric clapped him on the shoulder one by one and encouraged him. The number, including Keldric himself, came to roughly ten.
"Sir Gaspare of House Vera, Sir Willibald of House Gripenhof..."
Each time Burggraf Kuno called out a name, the knights Keldric would face began to file into the arena in a long line.
Keldric quietly watched the scene through the gaps in the lattice gate.
Meanwhile, the knights standing around Keldric each stoked their own tension and excitement in their own ways.
One knight began to pray, making the sign of the cross, while another knight glared at the opposing knights entering the arena, gripping his weapon tight.
"Thus, the honorable knights of the Red Paulownia Team! And their opponents are—."
At last, as the knights of the Blue Dragoon Team began to be called forward, Keldric alone maintained his composure and held his weapon fast.
Keeping a moderate degree of tension was helpful for sharpening concentration.
Even if it was a match in which no one killed anyone, as long as they fought bearing their own weapons, he had to approach it as if it were real combat.
"...Sir Keldric of House Bellaf!"
Feeling the muscles throughout his entire body surge, Keldric stepped into the arena.
Amid the cheering and the bright, piercing sunlight that poured down just as they had the day before, the forms of knights stretched out in a long line entered Keldric's vision.
In a place where high‑flying knights of every stripe had gathered together, a mass brawl fought by knights and knights alone.
'Good.'
For Keldric, nothing could be better. There would be nothing better than this for improving his skills or accumulating experience.
As for winning or losing the match, there was nothing in particular to worry about.
The one thing Keldric truly needed to worry about was the situation where he might accidentally smash an opposing knight's skull wide open.