V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (20)
V. O, Glory of the Tournament! (20)
"Damn. I had no idea the tournament would be this stacked."
"You had a rough time."
Sir Alan looked toward the arena with bitter regret.
The Yellow Rapeseed Team had suffered a crushing defeat against Sir Ortvin's Blue Woodpecker Team, eliminating its knights in a group and forcing Alan to swallow bitter defeat on the morning of the tournament's sixth day.
He could no longer enter the arena. That left Keldric as the only one of their group still in the tournament on the sixth day, increasing the pressure on him.
Keldric rubbed his chin in thought. In his estimation, Sir Ortvin was a fully developed knight.
The Empire contained countless knightly houses and just as many styles of swordsmanship. Sir Ortvin's appeared to combine a style common in the southern Empire with his house's own techniques.
So long as the weapon was a one-handed or two-handed sword, the basic framework remained much the same. The real variation lay in how much of a house's unique art was incorporated.
Keldric had learned only Sir Volfen's two-handed swordsmanship, all practicality and no flair.
He knew basic stances for one-handed swords and other weapons, but nothing that could be called a secret art of his house.
All he could rely on was practical greatsword technique and an innate combat sense backed by monstrous strength and endurance.
That had been enough to crush every other knight so far, but Keldric could not say with confidence that it would work against Sir Ortvin.
"The glorious victor of this match is the honorable Sir Ortvin of House Riesenbrunn! May God comfort the defeated!"
"Waaaaah!!"
Cheers rained down. The noise snapped Keldric out of his musings.
Sir Ortvin stood in the center of the arena with his sword raised high, receiving the cheers. Opposite him, a lone knight bowed his head in defeat.
Keldric studied the defeated knight's armor, which was scratched all over. Sir Ortvin's swordsmanship seemed to balance finesse with battlefield practicality.
Compared with the two-handed style Keldric had learned from Sir Volfen, Ortvin might indeed hold the advantage.
Sir Volfen's two-handed swordsmanship had been designed to excel on the battlefield, built from the outset for one-against-many combat.
Keldric would rather face ten ordinary mercenaries at once than one well-trained knight. He could empty his mind and still leave all ten mercenaries rolling on the ground.
Against another knight, however, things were different. One-on-one knightly combat offered fewer variables, making differences in pure skill overwhelming.
Sir Ortvin had built his reputation in tournaments, and his swordsmanship and tactics were surely optimized for them.
"Sir Keldric, should you not be going down now?"
"I should."
Keldric studied the unfamiliar knights entering the arena.
They had advanced this far because they had shared a team with Sir Ortvin or Keldric. Even that was an honor.
Keldric wanted more. Having come this far, he intended to survive to the end and win the entire tournament.
Sir Ortvin was the biggest obstacle in that process.
"Ah, the honorable Sir Keldric of House Bellaf. Will you be wagering again today?"
"Yes."
"Your match is two bouts from now, Sir Keldric. Your opponent is—"
"I'll wager on myself."
"Ah, understood. I will arrange it."
Whenever Keldric encountered an obstacle, he searched for a way around it. If no path existed, he smashed straight through.
He had the strength to do so, and there was no reason not to.
Keldric loosened his stiff muscles and picked up his shield and mace.
Bright sunlight poured into the arena. The crowd's cheers made his heart race no matter how often he heard them.
His opponent entered through one gate, and Keldric stepped through the gate rising opposite him.
Only a few steps remained between him and tournament victory. Having come this far, Keldric would not be satisfied until he saw it through.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
None of the knights Keldric faced lasted five minutes before his mace pounded them into paste and left them sprawled on the ground.
Some had been members of Keldric's Blue Dragoon Team, but team events were over at this stage and only individual matches remained, so that no longer mattered.
Many proclaimed their glorious intentions and burned to test themselves against Keldric. Half surrendered after taking a blow from his mace; the rest fought to the end, were injured, and had to be carried away.
Keldric tore through match after match. His armor suffered a few scratches, but he faced no serious danger.
"Undefeated Knight! Undefeated Knight!"
"Sir Keldric of Superhuman Strength! Power blessed by God!"
The number of spectators chanting Keldric's name rose sharply. Even after returning to his seat, he felt awkward beneath the stares pouring toward him.
"It is a little overwhelming."
"Sir, what are you saying? Damn it, if I were in your place..."
"How could a cowardly Britas knight—"
"Shut your mouth!"
Keldric watched Henri and Alan bicker as usual with a contemptuous look, then glanced toward the arena to find that the match had already ended.
Once again, Keldric studied Sir Ortvin, the last man standing in the arena.
The sixth day of competition had begun in the morning and raced toward its final match with scarcely a pause except for brief rests.
Keldric and Ortvin were not the only knights who had fought since morning, but Ortvin did not look to be in perfect condition.
His transitional armor and helmet were scratched in several places, and his shoulders and chest rose and fell a little too quickly. Sir Ortvin was gradually tiring.
That was not an advantage Keldric could exploit. A short rest would restore the lost stamina, leaving no opening for a scheme that might secure victory.
"...?"
Keldric watched Ortvin raise his sword, then noticed something that made his eyes widen.
'Is his chest troubling him?'
He could not be sure from this distance, but something about Ortvin's movements and breathing bothered him.
As the tournament neared its end, both Ortvin and Keldric had to fight more frequently.
Fewer remaining opponents should have meant fewer matches, but this was the stage when the organizers rapidly eliminated the remaining contenders before the final.
Sir Ortvin might simply have been tired after fighting several times. Even so, something about that explanation nagged at Keldric.
"Alisa."
"Yes, Sir Keldric?"
"About Sir Ortvin. Doesn't he look strange to you?"
"Which... You mean Sir Ortvin?"
"Yes."
Hearing Keldric's whisper, Alisa studied Ortvin in the arena. His visibly heaving shoulders and chest were typical signs of exhaustion.
"Is he not simply tired...?"
"Is that how it looks to you?"
"Yes. Do you see something else?"
"No, but even so, for him to be tired already..."
Of course repeated fights in heavy armor were exhausting. Keldric himself collapsed facedown at the inn and slept like the dead after a day of tournament matches.
But a knight's stamina was not to be underestimated. Ortvin's labored breathing seemed like more than simple fatigue...
"...It's nothing."
Keldric shook his head, tucked his helmet under one arm, and stood. It was time to prepare for the last preliminary match.
Only three knights remained, including Keldric.
If Keldric defeated the unfamiliar knight who had fought his way this far, only the final against Sir Ortvin would remain.
"Sir Keldric, win the tournament in my place. While you're at it, knock Sir Ortvin down a peg."
"I don't know whether it'll be that easy."
"No, don't shake my hand. Bad luck from a defeated man might rub off on you."
As Keldric descended toward the arena, he pushed aside the suspicion that had arisen moments earlier.
Whatever was going on, he first had to reach the final.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
After crushing the unfamiliar knight and neatly collecting his winnings, Keldric prepared for the final at once.
The final event was jousting. The organizers had opened with it on the first day to seize the crowd's interest and now closed with it to set all that excitement ablaze.
"Sir Keldric. Here it is."
"Thank you."
A servant placed a wooden tournament lance in Keldric's hand.
Boreas came alongside him, tossing its golden mane with a rough snort.
"All right. Don't be nervous. Stay calm."
As usual, Keldric raked his bent fingers vigorously through Boreas's mane.
Boreas made a pleased sound and shook its head from side to side, evidently enjoying it.
After scratching Boreas's mane for a moment, it was time to mount. Keldric stopped and vaulted into the saddle.
"Let's go, Boreas."
A roar shook the ground, drowning out Boreas's snort.
"The final match of this glorious tournament shall now begin! Saint Venancio will count the glory of this honorable victory among the deeds of the faithful!"
Burggraf Kuno's booming voice echoed through the arena as the sun began to set, while the crowd's cheers filled the air in every direction.
"The first knight in the final is the honorable and faithful Sir Ortvin of House Riesenbrunn!"
The cheers intensified. Keldric deliberately heightened his tension, sharpening his senses.
"Facing him is the honorable Sir Keldric of House Bellaf, who overcame adversity and proved his courage!"
The gate ratcheted upward. Keldric slowly urged Boreas forward.
The arena glowed beneath the deep sunset and throbbed with heat. Keldric breathed evenly as he donned his helmet.
Opposite him, Sir Ortvin sat mounted and lowered his visor as well.
Keldric summoned the feel of the jousts from the tournament's first day.
Judged by the sheer number of bouts, his experience remained limited, but he had already adapted completely.
He braced the lance firmly against his side. With their lances angled toward the sky and a stout rope dividing the lane, Keldric and Ortvin faced each other from opposite ends.
"The final match begins! Let these two brave knights fight for faith and honor! May God's blessing be with us all!"
"May God bless them!"
Once Burggraf Kuno's cry rang out, there was no turning back.
Keldric immediately spurred Boreas. Sir Ortvin signaled his pure-white horse at the same moment and charged at speed.
Ortvin held the advantage in both his horse's speed and his riding skill. Taking that into account, Keldric was even prepared to trade an injury for a decisive blow.
Boreas's powerful legs pounded the ground as the scenery whipped past and the distance to Ortvin vanished.
Keldric leveled his lance—and something went wrong.
"...Huh?"
Sir Ortvin's body began swaying from side to side, and the lance aimed at Keldric wavered with him.
It was impossible to reconcile with the skill of a man renowned for his rapport with horses.
There was no way to halt the match now, so Keldric silently clamped the lance beneath his arm.
Craack!
The wavering lance exacted a heavy price.
Ortvin's lance grazed Keldric's shoulder and went far wide, while Keldric's steady lance struck Ortvin squarely in the chest.
The lance shattered. Ortvin lifted from the saddle, fell, and crashed to the ground.
At that moment Keldric became certain: something was wrong with Sir Ortvin.
"Th-the victor is—!"
"Stop! Wait!"
As silence fell, Keldric urgently shouted at Burggraf Kuno, who was about to declare the victor, then leapt from Boreas.
Ortvin had rolled once after hitting the ground and now barely moved. The occasional twitch was no good sign.
"Sir Ortvin. Are you all right?"
"Ghk, haaah..."
"...Sir Ortvin?"
Keldric rolled Ortvin's prone body onto its back and yanked off the helmet.
"What the..."
Ortvin was in terrible condition. Blood streamed from his ears as if he were moments from death, and his eyes convulsed with the whites exposed.
"Someone bring a stretcher! At once!"
"Run! Quickly!"
Keldric stared blankly as Ortvin was carried away on a stretcher, then looked down at the blood staining his hand.
The blood was so thick and dark that it looked black. When the setting sun struck it, an oily blue-green sheen glimmered across the surface.
Keldric's eyes widened when he noticed something tiny writhing in the blood pooled in his palm.
They resembled leeches or perhaps slender thread snakes. More than a dozen of the minuscule creatures wriggled like tadpoles in the blood.
"...Poison?"
He could not be certain, but only one suspicion came to mind.
Someone had interfered in the Bogenberg Tournament.