Doubtless, many of those in attendance would have advocated simply putting the mare down and having the carcass dragged off the lists. I instead helped calm her enough to hobble to the stables on her three working legs. The bleeding had not been as bad as it looked against the white cloth, and I did my best to keep my horse calm while her wound was cleaned and stitched. The man with the needle was a wiry, bespectacled figure with a sleeveless waistcoat and rolled sleeves pinned above the elbows. I had no idea who he was or who he worked for. But he had a calm, professional manner and a neat hand with the needle.
“It looks like your barding was poorly fitted,” he said, “Leaving a gap between the plates that was covered by the caparison.”
“I understand that,” I said. I’d reached much the same conclusion when we were getting said garments off the horse. “But how bad is the injury?”
“It went deep in the muscle, but nowhere else. Assuming no infection sets in, it should heal with time. However, she will never joust again.”
“Ever?”
“You’ll be lucky if she runs again. The scar may turn out painful and lead to her favoring the leg.”
“I see,” I said.
“Unless, of course, you can afford magical healing.”
I gave a snort. “If I could, I’d have properly fitted barding.”
“Perhaps prayers to Ritnara are more in your price range,” he said.
Seeing my mare start to get jittery, I turned my attention back to soothing her.
“That was no victory,” a voice behind me said.
I glanced over my shoulder to where Antoine stood, his blond locks riffling in the breeze.
“We were robbed of a fair contest.”
“I was robbed of more than that,” I said, looking back to my horse.
“Quite,” Antoine said. “The officiants have declared the match incomplete. It won’t count for the purposes of the tournament.”
“How magnanimous,” I said.
“My lord, the Prince, wishes to know if you will be able to ride against him, or if this means a forfeit.”
“I said I would ride against him.”
“But you don’t even have a horse!” Antoine said, “Well, not one fit to ride.”
None of my protestations could change that basic fact. My gaze cast about for any savior who might rescue me from this predicament, and found him pretending not to eavesdrop on my stall.
“Lian!” I called.
Julian Castor gave a start and turned towards me.
“Lian, I am in dire need of your assistance.”
“Let me guess,” Julian said. “You want to borrow a horse.”
“Of all the people I know, you are the only one here who would have spare horses fit for the joust. I need it for only one bout.”
“I did try to warn you. I’m still not sure how you’re even walking after the way you struck the rail.”
“This was an accident. And I’ve been hit harder. It could have happened regardless of who my opponent was.”
“Exactly, and now you want to risk one of my warhorses,” Julian said.
I stood up straight, and looked him in the eye, though my brow only reached Julian’s nose.
“It’s either that, or I forfeit now, and am ruined utterly. If I am to be ruined, permit me to face it with my dignity intact.”
“Fine. But I have two conditions. First, you will ride using my barding, the one fitted for him. Second, you will bring him back uninjured. I am quite fond of my chargers. I would not see him hurt.”
“Of course,” I said.
* * *
I rode into the lists on a stallion who was clad only in bare steel. I could not place a caparison that smelled of horse blood on him, and had no spares. There was a tension in the air, as if the audience held a collective breath. A low murmur rolled through the gap as I took my place. Prince Claude’s helmet was like the rest of his armor, enameled green and blue. It was crested with a miniature in gilt of a knight on a rearing horse. His destrier pawed the ground in eagerness as his gaze fell upon me. I eased my lance into a better position and straightened my spine. ‘You can’t beat him,’ Julian’s voice nagged in the back of my head. I didn’t have to beat Claude. I only had to match him lance for lance. A draw was as good as a victory for the like of me.
Assessing the Prince’s livery, I judged that the golden figure of the knight was properly centered to be used as a target. Lance for lance. Three times. I inhaled deeply and let it out. The air inside my helmet reeked of sweat and fear. ‘I don’t have to beat him,’ I told myself again. I put from my mind how long it had taken me to scrape up the funds for my armor, and the impossibility of affording a replacement for my mare. Get through this bout. That’s all I needed to focus on now.
Before I was ready, the signal flag dropped.
A half moment late, I spurred Julian’s charger into a gallop. My lance tip fell oh so slowly towards that golden spot on Claude’s shield. I was jolted back in the saddle as the Prince’s lance tip found purchase between the two magpies on my own shield. In a shower of splinters, time snapped back to its normal pace, and I arrived at the end of the rail in a couple of heartbeats. Just to be certain, I looked to my lance, and grinned. Dropping the broken haft onto the pile, I accepted a replacement. Of course, Claude was doing likewise.
Just two more lances and I’ll have my draw.
I waited as liveried boys collected the larger fragments from the middle of the lists. They wore the colors of our host, but I wasn’t sure if they were pages or lowborn children. It didn’t matter, and they were soon out of sight anyway. Sweat ran down my temples. This armor was hot. I wished my livery had less black in it. Claude rolled his shoulders and settled into an easy posture for a second pass. Had he exaggerated the gesture for my sake? The spectators? It didn’t matter, because I saw the officiant with the signal flag moving into position. I could not be late this time.
With a sweep of the signal flag, I burst into a gallop, lance dropping almost perfectly into position. I hit a little to the right of the golden knight, but my lance bowed and shattered all the same. Claude’s hit rocked me back in the saddle, and I was staring into the shade of my bevor as I instinctively kept my eyes forward. Reining in Julian’s charger, I was able to regain my posture before we ran out of rail. I didn’t have to check before tossing my broken lance away.
I was actually smiling, a full teeth-baring grin split my face within my helmet.
I can really do this. Just one more pass. One more broken lance. Taking up that last lance, I positioned myself for that pass. Claude’s posture was still quite casual, showing no sign of concern. Why should he? Even if he lost, Valay was a rich kingdom, and he was heir to its crown. This bet was nothing to him, and everything to me. A dribble of sweat unrelated to the heat dribbled down the back of my neck. Just hit the golden knight.
Signal flags fell and we exploded towards each other. Lances came down all too slowly. The impact shuddered through my bones as though I’d been struck by the Prince’s horse directly. I rocked dangerously far back, the oblivious, fluffy clouds coming into view again. Dragging my body back upright, I pulled Julian’s horse up short, skidding in the loose soil. Claude discarded his broken lance and waited by the end of the rail, watching me. I turned my attention to the lance in my hand. The pristine, unbroken shaft had sailed past the Prince’s shield without connecting.
I swallowed hard.
Theoretically, I had another pass. I could ride against the Prince again and break my last lance… But that was bad form. Riding against an unarmed opponent had the reek of cowardice to it. The fourth pass was typically only ever ridden if both parties had an unbroken lance to bear. Sitting up as straight as I could muster, I saluted the Prince, then dropped the lance on the pile as if broken.
* * *
Glum was not a strong enough word for my demeanor as I sat at the card table. Julian sat across from me, thankfully sparing me the ‘I told you so’ I so rightly deserved. Off to my right was a young man who could very well still have been a squire. If so, whose I did not know. I gathered his name was Stefan. I was trying desperately to deprive the two of them of some of their silver to begin saving towards, well, everything again. Luck was not with me, as it was a struggle to just break even. I contemplated calling it off and just buying a drink. The image of me reduced to a hopeless drunk returned some of my resolve. I’d been hit worse than this, I just couldn’t remember when. The tournament still had several days left. That meant more time to rebuild my nest egg at the card tables.
This card table was darkened by a Valayan shadow as I folded a pathetic hand. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the blond youths of Claude’s coterie, but the prince himself stood over the empty seat to my left. He dropped a fistful of gold onto the table as he dropped into the chair. Immediately, he began ordering the coins into neat stacks.
“I’m afraid this is a silver game,” Julian said, gesturing towards the coins in play as Stefan collected his win.
“Let’s treat them as tokens for the appropriate denominations in silver,” Claude said.
Stefan looked decidedly uncomfortable, as though expecting this to lead to an argument when the game broke up. After all, a Valayan Ecu d’Or was worth substantially more than any of the silver groats we were using as the top value.
“Does that mean you’re going to want them back?” Julian asked.
“I just need to build up my own stock of silver to bet with,” Claude said. “If you win any of the gold before then, you can keep whatever I don’t win back.”
Julian dealt, including the Prince. “To what do we owe the honor, your highness?”
“Artur,” Claude said.
I looked up, meeting the Prince’s gaze. “You can take possession whenever you’d like.”
“My steward will handle that at the end of the tournament,” he said, his tone quite genial.
I staunched the growl of anger before it reached my throat. Was he really here just to gloat? I distracted myself by looking at my cards. Claude tossed a coin into the center of the table. The shield ensign on its face gleamed in the firelight. On that shield was the same knight on a rearing horse my lance had failed to strike. Of course it was. That was the coat of arms of the Valayan Royal house. It wasn’t on the coin as an attempt to goad me. Was it on Valayan silver? I couldn’t say I’d seen Valayan silver, as nothing came to mind. I answered his Ecu d’Or with a Karststadt groat. Answering gold with a smaller coin in silver felt wrong.
“You’re awfully confident you’ll win at this table,” I said.
“My luck at this tournament has been the opposite of yours,” Claude said.
“That has to change sooner or later – for both of us.”
Claude gave an exaggerated shrug. “I actually came here to offer my apology.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“I misjudged you when we first met. I did not see your true character, only your misfortunes. I have since discovered my error.”
“I can’t say I don’t share in the blame for the confrontation with your man Comte de Ganisan. I should not have struck him.”
A silence fell over the table as the game progressed. Stefan’s eyes were on the gold, Julian watched us all like a hawk, Claude appeared to look at nothing at all, and I studied Claude’s body language. The Prince was infuriatingly casual and composed. He never referenced his cards after the initial look, keeping them stacked next to his coinage. When two or three of the rest of us were still in the game, he bet very conservatively, risking as little as possible. This approach remained unchanged whenever I dropped out. When the hand came down to just him and me, he changed tactics. Pushing a stack of Ecus into the middle of the table, he almost doubled the number of coins there. In real value, it was even higher.
“Are you trying to buy the pot?” I asked. It had to be. He knew my pockets were shallow, and I couldn’t afford to be profligate. But if I let him intimidate me with this tactic, he was just going to repeat it, and I was going to keep losing. Calling gold with silver felt wrong, but I answered with my own little stack. Meeting his gaze, I saw no sign of what was going on inside. The man probably had as much experience at cards as he did at the joust. Yet that did not change what was on those cards when he turned them over. I grinned as I showed my own hand.
“Oh dear,” Claude said as I claimed the pot.
I sat up straighter, and the Prince returned to his conservative bets for the next few hands. Until it came down to the two of us again. I saw him do a visual count of the coinage in front of me, then pick out exactly enough from his reserves to wipe me out should I call. I rankled at his gall. Claude folded his arms and sat back, dispassionately watching my response. Doing a more careful count, I found I would be left with a single Ecu should I call. Trying to figure out what that was worth compared to what I started the night with frustrated me as I forgot the conversion. I was more insulted at the implication. Each time he tried to buy the pot, I either had to accept being pushed around, or risk everything I had.
I called, then raised him one coin.
“That’s an awfully confident move,” Claude said.
“It’s the only one I can make,” I said. “Are you going to call? Or fold?”
He called my one coin, forcing me to reveal a mediocre hand. It was not the kind of hand to risk everything on.
“I… See…” Claude said. “I should have saved that last Ecu.” The cards he revealed were not only bad, he had literally nothing. The sensible move would have been to fold on the first bet. I guess we had something in common.
I said nothing as I collected my winnings.
“My steward is going to kill me,” the Prince said. “He is most displeased when I lose badly at cards.”
“You were the one who made the bet,” I said.
“Yes. About that,” he said. Searching his pockets, Claude turned up a carved ivory figurine of a knight on a rearing horse, resembling the gilded one that crowned his helmet. Stacking this on his remaining three Ecus, he set them in the middle of the table. “One more hand. You and me, for just the gold in front of you.”
“There is no way that playing piece is worth the gold in front of me – even if you pretend it’s silver.”
“This is another token, this time for a horse, barding and harness for jousting. One of the spare sets I brought with me. That should be somewhere in the order of what’s in front of you.”
Separating the silver, I found it to be slightly less than what I’d started with, but not that far behind. I made neat stacks of the Valayan gold and pushed them into the middle. Julian dealt. As Claude looked at his hand, I saw the first overt expression related to the game he’d shown all night – a slight furrowing of the brow. I was afraid to look at my hand, but I also couldn’t avoid it.
It was not good. Any other round, I’d have bailed and cut my losses. But I’d already tendered the bet. I contemplated the possibilities as the Prince selected and discarded two cards. Julian gave him a pair of replacements. I traded in three.
“Well,” Claude said, “I guess we see what we’ve got.”
The hand he turned over would have been formidable, if the card in the middle of the set had been the card that actually belonged in the middle of the set. Instead, it left a gap that almost rubbished what he had. My three replacement cards beat it without help from the two I’d retained.
“I… should stop before I bet something I can’t afford to lose,” the Prince said, rising. He gathered up his men, who’d been holding their own card games while we were playing ours. The pack headed off. Suspicion scratching at the back of my mind, I reached over and flipped the cards Claude had discarded. An oath slipped out under my breath.
“He lost on purpose,” I said.
Stefan’s eyes darted between the Prince’s last hand and the cards he’d thrown out until Julian scooped them all up.
“You’re not supposed to look at the discards,” Julian said.
“But why would he do that?” Stefan asked.
“Chivalry,” I said, “To leave a worthy opponent humiliated and destitute is as much a disgrace upon the victor as the vanquished. He needed to find a way to set things right without further insult.”
“You don’t know for certain-” Julian started. My incredulous gaze cut him off.
“I think…” I said, “I think I should call it a night.”
*hits play*
*ding*
Turn the page.
What? The fancy-pants fop turns out not to be a bad guy?
You thought I’d stick to the formula that closely?
But, mah genre conventions!
Now that I think about it, how much “Popular/pretty person is actually horrible” is derived from nerd author fantasy?
I have no idea. I’ve never been pretty nor popular.
Kind of an old trope. It’s even in the bible.
I liked it! Not all fancy-pants are evil, and it sets the scene for a world in which the chivalric code actually means something.
I really liked the depiction of chivalry in the Game of Thrones. Brienne of Tarth was one of the few “knights” to follow the code faithfully, mainly because she was denied the title as a woman. Others used it as a guide when it didn’t get in their way of getting what they wanted.
I think I watched exactly one episode of Game of Thrones and found myself uninterested; then from what other people said about it, I figured that if I wanted to see awful people doing horrible things to each other, I’d just watch the news about politics.
I get that it’s an epic story and a lot of people like it; it’s just not really for me.
I was good with the world building, characters, and politics. The show had real issues once it ran past the source material.
I’m still looking to see if I can get some interest from my locals to go see Man or Astro Man and the Black Lips in Asbury Park. The difficult part is finding a place to stay there these days. There is little affordable hotels anymore and air B&B’s have gotten pricey.
I used to have a quite a few options in the past when it was dumpy, but that area has recovered much of it’s former glory in the last 10 years.
Thanks for that; I didn’t really think ahead to the housing situation. I have a friend in Bethlehem that may go; and I might be able to crash at his place but local to the show would probably be better. I’ll have to start looking into that.
Nice. It didn’t go the way I thought it would. This Claude fellow has potential.
What was the way you thought it would.
Hero jousts to a draw; pretty boy, enraged at his lack of vengeance, has hero beaten up and robbed by underlings?
This.
I’m not a fan of downer endings.
Trust me, UCS, we all like happy endings.
Someone would get eaten by a Grue.
It is Pitch Dark.
Not Pitch Black?
MC Frontalot FTW!
In a maze of twisty passages that all look alike.
??
Seems like the Prince isn’t an asshole, just Antoine.
Good story so far.
I’m glad, because this is the last part of this story…
Well, I liked it.
Love it! A great ending.
Was that the end?
I thought there were more parts, or was that the vampire one?
The vampire one has more parts. This was just a two parter.
Looks like an indication that the story is not over.
::waves placard, blasts bullhorn:: MORE PARTS! NO MORE PARTS, NO JUSTICE!
What? All the cool kids are protesting! ?
Et Tu, GT?
*flips table*
What are we yelling about?
Oh yeah:
MORE PARTS! NO MORE PARTS, NO JUSTICE!
No justice! No Pants!
Wait… what were we complaining about?
^
|
This guy gets it. Feels like summer already.
NO JUSTICE!
NO PANTS!
Very entertaining, I figured the that when the prince arrived at the card table he had come to gloat, and when he was dealt in I figured he was just going to rub the hero’s face in his defeat.
You have to know when to subvert expectations (and when not to.)
“I think…” I said, “I think I should call it a night.”
Finally! Making a good move!
Thanks as always, UCS. You are a wonderful storyteller!
A perfect opportunity for a pun.
NONE OF THAT!
Great short story. Knights and the like aren’t usually my preference for stories, but I do like the idea of “chivalry”. I will have to research how the concept had to be created or evolved as a means of community social enforcement of rules for powerful people. I wonder if this concept evolved for similar reasons as face saving in Japan and other Asian cultures.
I don’t know how accurate the hypotheses about its origins are. I don’t even know all the hypotheses either. 😛
My 10 minutes of Wiki Fu lead me to believe the same. There seems to be a timeline like an inverse of the adoption of fusion power, chivalry was the way things were 50 or 100 years ago when so and so was in power, but now we lost our way.
So Fusion power will bring with it a new age of chivalry?
We’re only 10 years away.
There’s your next story.
Your welcome. My creation of confusing analogies are in fact the modern muse.
Lazy lulz.
She got 3.2 million views, so I guess it worked out for her.
Jeez! Calmly take the flaming skillet outside. In your skimpy dress.
This is the outcome of not teaching basic shit anymore. My guess is that got her more fap views than her normal stuff.
So, I am the only one that saw this ending coming when the Prince sat down at the card table?
Only when the betting pattern was described.
I got it at that point. Claude was doing the right thing, even if it would rankle a little bit, it wasn’t obvious charity/humiliation, and it made things right, or at least hit the reset button.
I was hoping for it. The betting scene was skillfully written. Great work, UnCivil!
Thanks.
I liked how the prince was only concerned at the last hand, and then it’s revealed that was because he had a real chance to win it all.
Nice UCS! Really enjoying it.
Yep. I’d read a few more of these stories about the aspiring jouster.
I need to think of one first.
Finishes jousting tournament in third, prince offers him a dangerous job to prove himself worthy of joining him…
wrong story for this knight
He’s already answerable directly to the Emperor; so he’d need something more at that level, I’d think.
?
Thank you for the great story. I appreciate the recognition that chivalry required the Price to restore the errant knight without overt charity.
So Poppy is going to tour with Smashing Pumpkins and Janes Addiction this fall.
https://therockrevival.com/interviews/smashing-pumpkins-janes-addiction-announce-2022-tour/
“The Smashing Pumpkins and Jane’s Addiction are have announced a North American co-headlining tour. The 32-date Spirits On Fire Tour kicks off on October 2 at the American Airlines Center in Dallas, TX and wraps up on November 19 at the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, CA. Poppy and Meg Myers will serve as special guests on select dates.”
I’m Pumpkin.
Been Caught Popping?
The good thing is Poppy’s set is going to be 9 seconds long.
the MTL or QC dates might be doable…
Nice one, UCS. Claude was not such an a-hole after all.
No. Claude is an asshole. Respect is reserved for peers.
Eh, he could have done a lot worse.
Someone who meets you on the field is your peer.
I think that was the point of the story.
Great story, UCS. I enjoyed it.
9️⃣4️⃣
7️⃣6️⃣
8️⃣7️⃣6️⃣5️⃣3️⃣0️⃣9️⃣
“Hello, is this Jenny?”
“No, motherfucker! You have the wrong number!”
That’s not Jenny, that’s Denny.
That bitch Jenny never called me back.
Daily Quordle 108
7️⃣6️⃣
4️⃣3️⃣==20
You’re welcome.
R-rated comedian George Carlin dubbed over Thomas the Tank Engine George Carlin
Plug your headphones in!
That is possibly the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. I don’t think I can take all 45 minutes. I can hardly catch my breath after 5.
I’m the same. Trying to work while I listen but I have to stop and take a break so I can get work done.
Wait till you get to the part of Sir Topham Hat and his wife at breakfast. ?
Lol…good stuff
me too. I’ll have to come back to this
Jesus Christ, I’m DYING!
That may be the greatest thing I’ve ever seen.
Excellent.
“Remember, Mr. Policeman can beat you to death…”
*tears up laughing*
Thomas puffed sadly away.
“Fuck that lame-ass cop!” said Thomas.
???
That’s hilarious.
I guess I was never subjected to Thomas when my son was young, and Carlin is completely over-rated.
Carlin is completely over-rated.
?
*shrug*
I don’t get it, either. I grew up watching the show, but I was too young for “OMG, the funny guy I like is voicing a kid’s show!” As a result, to me it’s just choo choos saying cuss words and generally acting like assholes. Reminds me of robot chicken and a few SNL skits. Not my kind of humor. I haven’t heard enough Carlin to have formed an opinion. I’m not GenX enough to obsess over him.
How is it hard to get? It’s children’s characters saying things completely out of character. And it’s made funnier by the fact that the original PG voice is also doing the R stuff.
GenX obsesses over Carlin?
Daily Quordle 108
3️⃣2️⃣
6️⃣7️⃣
quordle.com
⬜??⬜⬜ ⬜???⬜
⬜⬜?⬜? ?????
????? ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛
⬜⬜?⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜?
⬜⬜?⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬜?⬜?⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
?⬜⬜?⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
???⬜⬜ ⬜⬜??⬜
????? ⬜⬜??⬜
⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ?????
I can smell the desperation from here.
Just imagine the crazy shit they’ll come up with between now and November. They’re throwing everything at the wall.
I have questions.
Questions? Twerk-bot has the answers!
Ex Machina has answers.
For a low budget SF picture quite thoughtful.
I enjoyed it. And I only just realized that was Oscar Isaac.