V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (19)
V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (19)
Count Bogenberg's proposal was not something Keldric could answer immediately.
The main reason was Count Bogenberg's political position.
If Keldric, who had only just stepped into the wider world, eagerly accepted the offer and immediately earned the hostility of Count Rasau's faction, his future travels would plainly become more difficult.
'Wouldn't that just bring me needless trouble?'
The proposed fief itself also felt awkwardly modest from Keldric's perspective.
A village near the great city of Bogenberg sounded attractive, but accepting without knowing what the village actually produced would be asking for trouble.
It was unlikely, but if maintaining and administering the village cost more than it yielded in taxes, the fief would be more trouble than it was worth.
Keldric did want to rule a proper town or castle someday.
A village near a city would surely be reasonably large, and beginning there and building upward step by step was not a bad idea.
But if it simply landed in his lap now, that would create problems of its own. He had prepared nothing.
Keldric had no dependable supporters, no impressive connections, and not even a budget for administering a fief.
The tournament had earned him a great deal of money, but nowhere near enough for Keldric to administer a fief as thoroughly as he would want.
Most knights might not weigh such details before accepting vassalage, but Keldric judged that he simply was not ready yet.
Unable to answer immediately, Keldric settled on 'watching the situation a little longer.'
He still had time left in Bogenberg, and this plainly was not a decision to rush.
His own market value was another consideration.
His battles and tournament results had given Keldric a reasonably clear sense of what he was worth.
If he distinguished himself further, opportunities offering far better terms would inevitably arise.
In other words, he could raise his price. Keldric believed it wise to extract as much benefit as possible, a conclusion he had reached through more careful thought than most rash knights would spare.
"Sir Keldric, if Lord Bogenberg offered you a vassal contract, I recommend putting the decision on hold."
"...I did not tell you anything."
"Forgive me if I overstepped, but I could think of no other reason for Lord Bogenberg to summon you privately."
Perceptive and quick-witted, Alisa had already seen through the situation.
While Keldric felt sheepish for trying to guard the secret by himself, Alisa continued seriously, counting the reasons on her fingers.
"First, you still have many opportunities to distinguish yourself, Sir Keldric. There are tournaments elsewhere, and if you win the Bogenberg Tournament, your value will rise considerably."
"I was thinking the same thing. What is the second reason?"
"The second reason is... the Church's reaction."
"The Church's reaction?"
The Church was an angle Keldric had not considered.
Keldric listened closely. Having graduated from an Academia, Alisa knew far more about noble society than a man who had spent his life in a backwater, so her advice was worth hearing.
"Lord Bogenberg held this tournament during Lent under the stated purpose of honoring Saint Venancio. If he uses it to bargain for a vassal contract, the Church may view the transaction critically."
"Oh..."
"That is probably why he summoned you privately. If you ask to discuss formal terms, the contract will likely contain a clause requiring you to "perform sacred duties" in deference to the Church's authority."
Count Bogenberg telling the Church's authority to go fuck itself?
As an Elector and a powerful count, he could get away with that to a degree.
It would still be a poor choice. With three archbishops among the Electors, the political advantage Count Bogenberg most needed was the Church's support.
If he wanted both that support and Keldric's vassalage, he needed religious legitimacy.
That meant Keldric pledging 'sacred duties' to Count Bogenberg.
In itself, the clause would not add anything particularly unusual to the contract.
Defend the Church and protect the weak. Keldric had little objection to either obligation.
But because this tournament honored Saint Venancio, any later breach of the vassal contract could also be framed as defiance of the saint's teachings.
Harsher punishment of heathens would also be taken for granted.
Keldric did not exactly object, but with little religious fervor of his own, the idea did not appeal to him.
"There is no reason for you to sign a vassal contract during Lent, sir."
"Hmm..."
"Why not watch the situation a little longer? A territorial war will not break out immediately. The campaign season in the north is limited."
Even if preparations began at once, mustering troops and stockpiling provisions would take time.
The Empire's vast north was struck by blizzards in both summer and winter.
The summer storms were relatively brief, lasting two or three weeks, but winter brought a cold wave that froze everything solid.
It was spring now. They could prepare for war until summer and begin the territorial conflict once the summer blizzards ended.
Territorial wars lasting more than half a year were not rare. They could run beyond a year, perhaps even beyond ten.
That meant Keldric still had time to raise his value.
After thinking for a long time, Keldric slowly nodded. Nothing Alisa had said was wrong.
"I think you are right."
"Thank you for saying so."
"And, well... could you keep this matter secret? It's not that I distrust you, but just in case..."
"Of course. Sir Keldric."
Even after saying that, he remained uneasy. He had intended to keep the matter hidden from the start.
Alisa was not the sort to spread it around, but if she did, it would cause trouble.
Keldric sheepishly scratched his chin, then returned to the hall with Alisa.
'We'll have to stay together for a while.'
As things stood, Keldric would have to keep Alisa with him until he settled the matter.
For that to work, he needed a relationship with her built on greater trust.
A companion with whom he could speak frankly.
No more and no less. That was all Keldric wanted for now.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Despite marking Count Bogenberg's fiftieth birthday, the banquet lasted only a single day.
Now that Keldric understood it was intended to court the Church's support, he had no real complaint.
Once the banquet ended, the tournament naturally resumed.
"It seems there aren't many left."
"You are right, Sir Keldric. A great many knights have been eliminated."
"One pathetic Britas knight looks likely to join them soon."
"You bastard..."
The Bogenberg Tournament had entered its fifth day and was approaching the final stages. A considerable number of knights had already been eliminated.
Keldric was not among them. Still undefeated and in the running, he wondered what events would follow the group combat.
"Is it group combat again today?"
"I heard they are mixing the formats today. After the group combat, there will be foot combat and jousting."
Many knights had fallen, but a substantial number still remained.
With even Sir Alan still in the tournament, the organizers had scheduled another group combat to eliminate an additional batch of knights.
"You were... on the Blue Dragoon Team, were you not?"
"That's right."
"Then you'll have an easier day. I heard the Blue Dragoon Team won't take part in this group combat."
Three teams remained: Keldric's Blue Dragoon Team, Sir Alan's Yellow Rapeseed Team, and the Blue Woodpecker Team led by Sir Ortvin, the White Horse Knight.
Because Keldric's team had won every group combat so far, it would advance without fighting this round, just as Alan had said.
Keldric could therefore sit comfortably in the stands and watch without wasting his strength.
"White Horse Knight!"
"Sir Ortvin! You have to win!"
By the fifth day, the cheering and excitement at the Bogenberg Tournament had reached their peak.
The final was scheduled for the next day, and people had crowded in to see which knights would reach that last glorious contest.
The previous day's banquet had helped draw them as well. Keldric vaguely recognized several nobles he had seen there.
"Sir Alan, go down there and lose disgracefully. A Britas knight ought to flee while pissing himself."
"Shut your mouth."
"Terrifying. I'm sure you'll be yelping like a whipped dog in front of Sir Ortvin."
Sir Alan rose to descend into the arena while Henri continued hurling abuse after him.
They seemed friendlier than before without any intention of becoming truly close. Since they would meet only briefly here and then part ways, that was understandable.
Once Alan disappeared, Keldric turned his attention to the arena.
Soon the now-familiar Burggraf Kuno stepped forward and raised his voice.
Each time he announced a knight's house and name, the roar from the stands swelled. Sir Alan could be seen entering the arena as well.
"Sir Keldric, how do you think this will end?"
"Sir Ortvin will win."
"I think so too. He's not an opponent a Britas knight can defeat."
Keldric could not speak for the other knights, but Sir Ortvin's strength, at least, was genuine.
His twenty-four tournament victories did not appear to be a lie. His equipment and movements were clearly different from those of the other knights.
"Knights! The time has come to prove your skill and courage! Fight for the honor of your houses and lieges! May God bless the valor of these brave knights!"
As the match began, Keldric watched Sir Ortvin start forward at a measured pace.
Sir Alan's Yellow Rapeseed Team had little chance of victory with the White Horse Knight on the opposing side.
Whether through a trick of fate or God's amusement, Keldric had not faced Sir Ortvin in a single event so far.
That streak would not last much longer.
Sir Rupert, who had first matched strength with Sir Ortvin, had been more skilled than Keldric expected, but that was all.
He had neither made Keldric feel endangered nor produced a truly tense battle.
The group combat unfolded without any unexpected variables.
The knights collided and naturally formed ranks, while Sir Ortvin broke through the opposing line from the center and secured an overwhelming victory.
"The contest is decided! May God comfort the vanquished!"
As Sir Ortvin's victorious team answered the crowd once again, Keldric watched him with mounting anticipation.
'This should be interesting.'
Sir Werner had been too old, and Keldric had not even met Sir Theodore yet.
Sir Rupert was reasonably skilled, but they had fought amid a chaotic melee, and he had fallen somewhat short of Keldric's expectations.
Sir Ortvin might be different.
Keldric sought lessons in everything. If he could learn something from Sir Ortvin, that alone would be worthwhile.
But if Keldric won—
all the cheers and flower petals showering Sir Ortvin would surely turn toward him instead.
And Keldric did not feel as though he was going to lose.