The joust dragged on. Soren’s record improved, and Ritter’s technique got better. Johan still lost every time, but he wasn’t so soundly beaten. He wasn’t incompetent, just inexperienced. Some day he might be a serious challenger. Just not today. As the day went on, it became more and more “Erbgraf Lorenz Castor zu Ritterblume accepts the challenge of…” as Lenz worked through far too many of the challenge tokens. Crash after crash, he racked up a tally of shattered lances. Lenz didn’t win most of the bouts, but he eked out as many draws as he did losses. The impact of hit after hit on his shield wore on him, but no matter how weary his posture, an infectious grin remained plastered across his features. His perseverance actually netted him a standing ovation from the upper rows at the end of his final bout.
The sun was creeping down the sky, and I was ready to leave. Much to my annoyance, the crowd was not dismissed. Instead, Hackenhof rode back into the lists as the rail was being dismantled. His armor had been polished back up to a shine, and his cloth livery changed out for one with actual metallic threads densely woven through the fabric. In the late afternoon sun, he and his mount shone like an animate gilt statue. He had a conventional shield slung across his back and was not carrying his concave jousting shield. Pulling off his helmet, Hackenhof raised a hand to the crowd and rode a tight circle.
“Permit me an indulgence,” he said, his commanding tone carrying almost as far as the King of Heralds’ voice did. “Many of you may know the tale I am about to tell, but I know there are those here for whom it will be new. The time is two hundred years ago. The Volkmund is at war with the Ashmen. The Warlord Jochen has broken Imperial army after Imperial army. His right hand lays siege to Salzheim. Gefrah has fallen, and a battle-hardened force of Northerners has crossed the Small Sea, making landfall at a place called Zerhaltenberg.”
I stifled a groan. Hackenhof continued.
“A young commander of the Volkmund, Fritz Hackenhof, hurries north to reinforce an army that has already been destroyed. He comes to Zerhaltenberg looking for boats. He finds the citadel under siege, and the Ashmen waiting for him. Though he commands more men than Jochen, his troops are conscripts and sellsword dregs. A pitched battle would only degrade into a slaughter. Riding out before his host, Fritz challenges the Warlord to single combat. An expert with the longblade, Jochen does not hesitate to accept the challenge of this upstart whelp. Indeed, there are some who refer to him in hushed tones as Jochen the Decapitator.
“The two meet between the ready ranks of their armies, sword and shield against longblade The two are so evenly matched that a clash of minutes turns to hours as the sun sags in the sky. Both battle to their utmost, the duel dragging on and on. Neither one able to defeat the other, exhaustion claims them. A battle of steel becomes a battle of words. Acrimony gives way to accord, and by the time dawn rises over Zerhaltenberg, the two have come to terms by which the war might be ended and a peace attained. Though Jochen would meet Azerion before the Furst of Karststadt paid homage to the Emperor of the Volkmund, the Peace of Zerhaltenberg brought a bloody chapter to a close.”
The duel at Zerhaltenberg was a romantic tale, poorly told by Hackenhof. And utter bollocks. Zerhaltenberg fell before Fritz arrived. Jochen had already taken ill with a fever and was on what would turn out to be his deathbed. Dieter parlayed with Fritz out of fear for his army’s morale. Fritz parlayed for much the same reason he purposely proposed a duel. His army would have been savaged by Jochen’s forces had the Warlord been hale enough to lead them. Neither side wanted a pitched battle, and Dieter took the opportunity to consolidate his father’s gains before the tide of the war turned. I’m not sure where the story of the duel came from. But it was more popular than the truth.
Hackenhof still had more to say.
“It is now two centuries since that day, and we have in the same place a direct descendant of Fritz Hackenhof.” He gestured to himself. “And the heir to Jochen’s line.” Hackenhof pointed at me. “Who I hear has recently come of age. In honor of this confluence of circumstance, I propose we re-fight the Duel at Zerhaltenberg. Albeit for much lower stakes.” He grinned at the last pronouncement.
Even before I could scowl, a boy, probably just into his teenage years, approached the Royal box. He was wearing a properly blue tabard emblazoned with the Raven Coast Roc, and offered up a longblade, hilt-first. Rough ribbons of white and blue silk were tightly woven about the grip in a bright checkered pattern. The wide cross-guard was formed from the outstretched wings of the Raven Coast Roc and was covered in individually cut jet feathers. The bird’s breast was made from nacre plumage. A gilt beak sat open towards the fuller of the blade, a garnet inset for the eye. Gilded talons gripped the start of the weave on the handle. The customary ox was wrought in gilt steel as the pommel, looking for all the world as if the Roc had dropped it mid-flight. The blade itself gleamed with a mirror shine. A jittery, nervous expression came to the boy’s face as I did not move and every eye in the area became fixed upon us.
A long, awkward moment filled the space between breaths.
Otto Hackenhof had set it up so that there was no way to politely refuse. It was either engage in his farce, or openly insult him, my hosts and the crowd. I scowled as I drew on my helmet. Making me want to hurt him was probably not the smartest move Hackenhof could have made when challenging me to an exhibition match. Rising to my feet, I took the longblade from the boy. At six feet from tip to tip, it was taller than the bearer had been. Stepping down from the Royal Box, I gave a few swings to test the balance and weight of the sword. The beast of a blade had more momentum than I cared for. It was longer and heavier even than the tournament longblades. Still, I rested the gaudy thing on my shoulder and marched out to where Hackenhof had dismounted.
Failing to think of something to say that wasn’t snide, I kept my mouth shut as Otto donned his helmet and readied his shield. Once he drew his sword, I saluted with the oversized blade. Hackenhof returned the gesture and I fell into a ready stance, blade at a forty-five degree angle down. As he moved in to test my guard, I jabbed for his face. The tip of my blade clanged off of a hastily raised shield. I followed it up with a series of quick, stabbing thrusts at any place his shield was not, forcing him to try to defend his entire body at once. An unskilled opponent might have been wrong-footed by not facing the expected broad strokes of an archetypical power swing. But I did not invent this technique, nor was it impossible to counter.
As I jabbed for Otto’s left, he swatted the sword tip aside and lunged inside my guard. I dropped my sword tip towards the dirt and spun, deflecting his sword with the flat of my blade. I turned the motion into a body-check against his shield. A hit to the shield arm didn’t phase a jouster like Hackenhof, and he didn’t stagger. That suited me fine, as it left me close enough to slam the pommel against his helm with a ring of gilt steel on gilt steel. That had him staggering back. I followed up with an upward power strike that sparked along the rim on his shield as he pushed it away from his body. His limbs were safely out of the way, but his sword was not. The blade, as over-wrought as his armor, flipped end over end as the hit knocked it from Hackenhof’s grip.
Otto’s gaze followed the wrong sword as he watched his weapon’s flight. My pommel came down on the rim of his helm as I hooked a foot behind his knee. Flipped about his center of mass, Hackenhof came crashing down on his backside at my feet. His helmet popped free and tumbled along the beige dirt. My blade plunged towards the earth, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd as Hackenhof’s eyes went wide. I arrested its descent with plenty of room to spare and rested the tip of the blade against his exaggerated gorget.
“Do you yield?” I asked.
A collective sigh of relief passed from the crowd as they realized I was not going to murder Hackenhof before their eyes.
Otto nodded, the wind apparently having been knocked from him in his fall. I moved the blade aside and plunged the tip into the earth. My hands free, I used one to pull off my helmet before extending the other towards Hackenhof. He gave a wry grin and gripped my forearm. I helped Otto to his feet as he regained his breath.
“I thought you lost the Imperial Longblade,” Hackenhof said.
“I was beaten by Lenz Castor,” I said.
He nodded as realization set in. I turned to head back to my seat, but was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t leave your sword sticking out of the ground like that.”
“It’s not my sword,” I said. “I don’t even know where it came from.”
“Is this your reaction to every gift?”
Annoyance welled up inside me and I fought to keep it off my face. I pulled the sword from the beige clay and hauled it back to the Royal Box. Hackenhof handed his shield to the attendant who collected his sword and helm, then followed me. Fortunately, the only seat he could take was to the left of De Corval, putting every other person in the box between us.
“I’m almost starting to think Kord isn’t having any fun,” Hackenhof said. Where he got the impression that a familiar form of address was acceptable was a mystery.
“You weren’t much of a challenge, Otto,” Hengist said.
“Your performance wasn’t any better,” Hackenhof said.
“Hush,” Hubert said, his tone jovial.
“The only nobleman in this box Kord hasn’t beaten in a swordfight is you,” Hengist said.
“Beating up an old man wouldn’t be sporting,” Hubert said.
“So what’s next?” Hackenhof asked.
“There’s a troupe of performers to play out the daylight,” Hengist said. “The adjudicators are still debating the rankings of the joust. We’ll have our victor’s feast tomorrow. Then it’s wrapped up.”
“So no big ado for our friend from the North?”
“No,” I said.
“You sound almost offended at the suggestion,” Hackenhof said, leaning far enough forward to look past the others.
“If my tone implied as much, I apologize,” I said.
Hackenhof bit his lower lip and sat back, clearly mulling something over.
“I’m afraid it’s not my purview,” Hengist said.
“Don’t worry about it, Hengist,” Hubert said. “Otto, we’ll discuss the matter after supper.”
***
The clatter of the oversized sword hitting the tabletop startled the others. The tower was devoid of would-be assassins as far as anyone could tell, and I deposited the gaudy, inelegant weapon on the first level surface I found – the kitchen table.
“Don’t throw those things around like that,” Soren said. “You might hurt one of us.”
“What do you have against that sword, anyway?” Lenz asked. “You looked like you wanted to rip that squire’s head off when he presented it.”
“First, he should not have been in that livery,” I said. “Second, who goes to the trouble of having a gift that overwrought made for someone they’ve never met? You know that was not made in the past few days.”
“Especially since it’s a Krahenhammer,” Ritter said, peering at the maker’s mark on the blade. “He’s not even in Farcairn.”
“Are you serious?” Lenz asked.
“Yes,” Ritter said.
“I was referring to Kord. You, I believed,” Lenz said.
“What do you mean ‘am I serious’?” I asked. “I just met Otto Hackenhof at the opening ceremony of this tournament. I can’t fathom why he’d do something this absurd.”
Lenz rubbed his eyes and shook his head.
“What?”
“You memorize minutiae about things that happened centuries ago but can’t remember your relation to Otto Hackenhof?”
I frowned.
“Kord, you’re lucky it’s just the four of us, because if you’d blurted that out in public, you’d be a laughingstock.”
“Just shut up and tell me what I forgot already.”
Lenz laughed.
“I know what you meant to say,” he said.
“Then get on with it.”
“Kord, your Grandmother was Marlene Hackenhof. Otto’s your cousin. Well, second cousin.”[31]
I sullenly sank into a flush of embarrassment. The possibility came to the fore that I’d misinterpreted his expression when we’d first run into each other waiting for the tournament introductions to start. The only thing he’d actually done that was scorn worthy was celebrate too proudly with his victory laps at the joust.
“I’m going to get out of this armor,” I mumbled and moved past Lenz to head upstairs.
“I think we shouldn’t let them separate us from Kord as easily,” Soren said. “If not stumbling on assassins, he’s liable to talk himself into trouble.”
“Unless we’re somehow related in a way I’ve forgotten about, stay out of this.”
“Oh, no blood shared between the princes of Karststadt and the Freiherren Gost.”
I walked out of the room and up the stairs. The armor was not designed to be donned and doffed by a single person, but it was possible. Freed from the steel, I washed up and changed into something less metallic. My eyes fell upon the original gaudy sword, and I took a closer look. While the Raven Coast Roc was in a very different pose, the craftsmanship distinctly resembled that of the longblade downstairs. Drawing it partially from the sheath, I checked the maker’s mark. A crow on an anvil with a hammer in its beak. I slid it back in and headed into the hall. Hearing movement in Lenz’s room, I knocked.
“What is it?”
“Is it safe to come in?”
“Go ahead.” Lenz was rooting around for a shirt when I opened the door. Remarkably, despite the battering he’d taken, his stitches hadn’t ripped.
“Whose idea was it to commission this sword?” I asked, holding up the one-handed blade.
“I think it was dad’s. I didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“How well does he know Otto?” I asked.
Lenz shrugged and pulled his shirt on.
“You sound almost depressed,” he said.
“I’ve been a fool,” I said.
“Oh?”
“I’ve been regarding Otto as if Jochen’s war just ended and there’s a fresh trail of headless Hackenhofs behind me.”
“That explains why it looked like you were trying to make another one. He got, what, one swing in?”
“It was a thrust,” I said.
Lenz waved it off. “Anyway, he’ll be at the Victor’s Feast tomorrow. Just treat him like your cousin instead of your enemy and you can explain away everything before that as getting too much into the spirit of competition.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Lenz smirked. “Of course I’m right. You just have to not be yourself for a day.”
I glared at him, but that only made Lenz laugh. Eventually, I had to join in. He was teasing me, but he was also right. The laugh did not last long and subsided quickly. I shook my head as it ended.
“That’s a steeper task than admitting to knowing something about swordplay,” I said.
“Then you’re doomed,” Lenz said.
“You won the Rings. Isn’t that excuse enough to keep you around to remind me not to make a fool of myself tomorrow?”
“I suppose.”
[31] Technically, Prince Kord could have styled himself Kord Grosz-Hackenhof-Metzer-Freinmarkt von und zu Karststadt-Salzheim. But that gets absurd after a while.
If you want your own copy, the whole book is available from Amazon in eBook, Paperback, and Hardcover variants.
On one hand, I want to at least feign modesty, but on the other, I really like how I handled a lot of the scenes between Kord and Lenz. The relationship with his foster brother go a long way to humanize the narrator.
A flawed hero is an interesting hero, IMO. Also, lots of opportunities for witty dialogue.
It’s very enjoyable.
👍
You made another sale today. So I can word-search to brush up on the various characters.
Nice duel. Good pacing.
Good chapter.
If anyone cares for a holiday Zoom, I may login in a couple hours https://us02web.zoom.us/j/87821224358?pwd=eW55MTRDbDNtQkh2aHd3M1Nmenlzdz09
This is either the craziest Zoom ever, or we’re talking about mole hair. You never know which…
When writing Sverre, I have to remember he is not a villain, merely an antagonist.
/Cryptic no-context remark.
Wow, everyone must be on vacation. An hour with nobody saying anything during the late afternoon?
I’m tired. I went up in the mountains again, hoping the one I picked would have a volunteer steward at the fire tower so the cab would be unlocked. Alas, no volunteer.
I was out pouring beer and mead at a festival. Just getting around to reading the story.
Was it at least good alcohol?
I made it. So, yes. 😉
Sorry didn’t want to completely go off topic on your hard work.
Tangentially related I finished “Iseakai Suicide Squad” today. It brings the “gang” to a sword and sorcery fantasy world. Best I can say is that it was “mid” at best. OTH, they got brand new voice talent to Harley Quinn. This sometimes works and sometimes is awful. To her credit she did a good job, hopefully she gets more work in a highly competitive industry.
She might be the best thing I can say about the work. The rest of the cast was all A list voice talent which wasn’t surprising given the budget and the DC Studio’s involvement. If only they spent some more money on the writers…
The writers are dangerous, those guys include wrongthink and microaggressions!
They are cheap. If you don’t like the current one you just hire another one! Anybody can do it.
I have been wrasslin’ stuff out in the garage, and he wife has been caning, we are all tired here.
“caning”
Typo or BDSM?
I am hours late to a new thread as usual on Sunday. I have no idea what the regular schedule is on the weekends.
Went to the 70th anniversary of a YMCA camp that was a big part of my life. I got to see a lot of old friends. Back home now and looking forward to sleeping on a comfortable mattress.
Kumbaya.
Sounds fun
Michael, a former boat house director at camp, same as I was, has now grown breasts.
On purpose or did he just get fat and old?
“Mikkela” is still in good shape.
U du U bough.
Sorry. I was really looking forward to this episode. I enjoyed it once I got back to civilization. I was watching bats fly out of a cave in Fredricksburg. It was awe inspiring. It was also raining, and swarming with flies. And smelled like saltpeter b/c of the guano.
Was it raining, or were the millions of bats relieving themselves above you?
Actual rain, which made the bats not want to come out until nearly dark. They did finally, and I got some good movies. Should make a good emergency fill-in post.
To be fair, it is really hard to find bugs in a rainstorm, as many will have taken shelter, and the rain itself interferes with the senses. Plus you’re getting all wet going out in that.
Can confirm. I was soaked.
Went for a hike at Red Rocks then went over to Boulder to check out the town. So many rainbow flags in windows and on crosswalks I have to assume everyone there is gay. NTTAWWT, it just seems unnecessary to advertise it everywhere.
PRIDE!!!!!!11
My pet peeve of the millennium.
It was edgy like thirty years ago. Now? Tedious AF.
From the responses, it appears that yes, everyone was on vacation.
No, that was not meant as sarcasm or anything, I just found it amusing.
*snort*
You do you.
I hear that gives you hairy palms.
And the neighbors complain.
Happy fourscore birthday to Creech!
Since I’m on an 80s kick
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xuZA6qiJVfU
👍
Orr sang some of the best Cars songs.
I didn’t realize he sang more than Drive
Oh yes
Slumbrew’s avatar always makes me smile.
Excellent. I think their highest charting song, and ironically not sung by Ocasek
Some pre-Labor Day music for ya’ll
One more
Apparently Sean celebrates the made up BS commie holiday.
Morning The Hyperbole and anyone else hanging about.
Morning.
In half an hour I can finally get breakfast from downstairs.
I initially woke up at 5:30… then realized that was 5:30 eastern and it was 3:30 local.
(I did snooze until my alarm went off half an hour ago)
I even passed out gift cards to the employees on Friday.
Disgusting, I’m making my employees work until 4 today instead of the usual 2pm quitting time.
Femi
@Femi_Sorry
I just explicitly implied that the Hamas leaders should be in jail alongside Netanyahu, and you’re accusing me of supporting Hamas.
This is why Israel’s supporters are no longer taken seriously.
https://x.com/Femi_Sorry/status/1830173359344136241
isn’t explicitly implying kinda weird phrasing in English?
Yes but it’s like sarcasm that gets misunderstood. My wife doesn’t understand my humor so she misses a lot of jokes.
I’m also making them make me an egg and bacon sammich before they start working.
When did yoiu go into the food service business?
Right after I decided to start mis-threading my replies.
Good….uh…afternoon? Evening? What time is it there?
No, it’s not kinda anything. It is an oxymoron.
Morning Hype and Suthen,
Ol’ therm-o-meter says 47 this morning. It’s the time for harvesting, for sure. I cut back some on my garden this year but still have to give stuff away.
G’morning Sir. Mine says 84, forecast is for 91 today. Overcast all day so that means I can get a lot of work done. This time of year the direct sun is unbearable so I will work on those days until around 11 and then it is quitting time. I look forward to getting a lot done today.
Already got the before-sunup stuff done. Make and distribute lots of coffee, tidy house, feed dogs, make humming bird food, start laundry, feed me and wife. Trying to work up the motivation to change into work clothes and get started outside.
Happy commie day, peeps!
😏🍳☕
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=kMOeTLLeaDU
🎶🎶
Morning.
Good morning, Sean, U, Stinky, 4(20), Teh Hype, and Suthen, and good afternoon, Pie!
https://www.cbsnews.com/sanfrancisco/news/man-arrested-san-francisco-bizarre-rolling-crime-spree-across-city/
Overachiever.
Didn’t see the story ending with him climbing a tree and eventually coming down. Is he a seven year old kid?
… Apparently I’m not going to be able to get away from I-80 until Reno.
From Cedar Rapids to Reno on one highway. 🙁
Leave your blinker on the whole way.
Maybe your GPS will get bored and start suggesting alternate routes just for something to do.
Glibs of the World Unite!!!
Dyslexics of the World Untie!