by Ulysses Troy
“Really? Are you serious? Because you have a much better example under your hand, someone who has a great history of being a competent idiot when it comes to this . . . and everything: yourself.” Conrad smiled. “When it comes to foolish romances, nobody can match you, Gavise. And me? Hell no. I could not succeed even if God gave me eternal life to overpass your glorious achievements.”
“Yet I doubt if your precious fling would say the same thing, my friend.” Gavise laughed. “For years, you have been roasting me for ‘lowering myself’ to get the women, and now we are not that different, are we?” He laughed, again. “What was the idiom? ‘Call no man happy till he dies.’”
“She did not use me.” At least, I hope.
“She is ‘a bitter dagger to your heart’, Conrad. It is just you not being smart enough to see it.” With quickness, Gavise leaned towards the table nearby and swiped a nobleman’s glass of high-quality wine while he happened to be looking away. The nobleman wouldn’t get it anyway, as he was heavily drunk.
“But you know what? There is nothing wrong with that. Women, some of them, are a dagger worth being killed with. That’s what I felt when Giselé’s father was about to butcher my mortal body, destroying my precious presence. The old bastard pointed at me a fucking cutlass, and I don’t even know how he was able to find one that far east!” Gavise took a sip from his wine. “The very death was before me, yet I did not intend to step back and give up on her . . . well . . . at least not until he showed how serious he was about using it on me . . .”
“Otherwise, I would be surprised.”
“ . . . the thing I am trying to say is, love, it’s a completely masochistic process, and nowhere close to the ideal we hoped it would be, yet if you believe it is real, then it’s worth dying for.”
Even though Gavise of Beocur was more of a clown and gambler most of the time and not a wise person to take advice from at all, he had his moments sometimes, just like right now. I can’t believe it, but I think he is right. Or it just sounds that way because he is a bard after all, and ‘the last true poet of pure romance’ as he defines himself. Conrad thought. He may be right but still, I don’t know if she would love me too, after all that happened.”
“Too much talk about love,” Conrad said. There is still a big problem to solve that stands before us. “We need to discuss more serious matters.”
“My friend, as an exceptional master of romantic poetry myself, I refuse to acknowledge the existence of any more serious matter than love!”
“Sorry to hear that, but this time you have to. And don’t worry, I doubt if love would care.”
Conrad looked at the crowd one more time, to see if they could talk there. The tavern’s popularity was at its peak as there was only one day left before the contest, and more people were entering than leaving it, even though the tables inside were fully occupied already. Yet, Conrad could not blame them as the next day, The Black Knight and the Young Baron of Gannadár would meet in the field to perform an art of steel. Everything about it seemed fine, except for the Baron’s serious injury on his leg. An injury serious enough to force him to stay in bed for at least a week. Edmond couldn’t walk or fight. So, he couldn’t face The Black Knight.
I can imagine what you want to talk about.” Gavise said. “The Baron.” He reached out for the wine bottle for one more time. “What about him?”
“He still can’t walk.” Conrad looked into the flames. They were dancing, but in a unique way that was not like any other dance he knew. “But still, he wants to protect his honor.”
“Honor? The man is seriously wounded, I think every head in the plains is smart enough to get why he cannot fight!”
“The case is different. Edmond is afraid that the Wellons may start to spread rumors about how he willingly wounded himself to avoid confronting the Black Knight. He thinks they may taint his honor and label him as a coward.”
“Who cares if they do that? Is it really important if some folk laugh at a shitty Baron for a few weeks and then totally forget about the whole thing?”
“It matters, especially for a man like Edmond.”
Gavise took another sip from his wine. “If half of the things that fat servant of his talked about him are true, the man is a true idiot.”
“Still, the world needs more of his kind.” Conrad looked into his friend’s eyes. “And less of yours. Something must be done.”
“You know that he is not even able to walk!” Gavise said opening both of his hands. “We can do nothing.”
“No, we can do something.” Conrad looked at the fire for one more time. To itself and its reddish dancing flames upon the grate. “Tomorrow, I will wear his armor, wield his steel and carry his colors. In the field, I will defend his honor against the Black Knight.”
Chapter Seven
The Duel of Honor
“These Northerners are all stingy goats! I couldn’t make any tourins except for the ones a shitty half-drunk merchant gave me, and they turned out to be fake! A real tourin never ever should melt under the sunlight, Conrad. Never! And the nobility, they were equally bad. Baron Herebald, the one that’s known for his immeasurable wealth, had a special request from me. I sang the man four fucking songs he had selected, for nothing but a pat on my shoulders! Even Baroness Melloine didn’t spare me a single tourin, although I made the woman shed tears with my brilliant ‘Bitter Love’. And the lute I just borrowed from that wandering bard got broken by a damned drunkard in the feast. Its owner is still looking for me all over the plains. He has a sword, Conrad, a bloody sword and I am pretty sure he knows how to use it, at least better than I do.” Gavise said while Conrad put the Baron’s boots on his feet.
“If I can still be alive at the end of the day, I may help you with that one.” He said to his friend.
“You may? Only may?!”
“Unfortunately.”
Gavise paused for a moment, then changed the subject. “I’m still surprised about how you managed to convince Edmond for this.” He helped Conrad to tie his bracer. “I thought he would prefer to fight with his one functional leg, getting his head chopped off by The Black Knight’s famous sword, rather than let you save his life.”
“He doesn’t know about this.” Conrad wore one of the Baron’s plate greaves, shining in the light of the candles in the room. “He is asleep now. I told Merlon to give him some opium to ease the pain.”
“And where the hell did he find that?” Gavise was surprised, as opium’s unmedical use was banned by an edict made by King Philippe four years ago. The only ones who had access to it besides physicians were illegal dealers that would sell them for the use of pleasure.
As the King’s edict made opium’s price too high, it was only sold in the Black Market now and common folk were unable to buy it. But most of the nobles and the rest of the rich were still able to afford it, as they had the tourins, and opium was common in some circles.
“In the feast, from a Jamedian merchant here who sells it to the nobles, as far as I know.” There were and will always be people who do not obey the law, especially when it comes to making coins. And entertainment events like these, filled with pleasure-seeking nobles, holding their large bags of gold were ideal for that kind of merchant to sell their ‘medicine’.
“And they say nobility represents morality.” Gavise passed the other greave to his friend.
“People say many things which I’m having a hard time believing. And yet, I have to pretend I do.” Conrad said.
When everything was done, Conrad finally put the Baron’s helmet on his head and closed its visor. No matter how much he hated these vision-restricting plate helmets of knights, it would be better not to lose it as it would be a great shame for both the Baron and him if he lost his helmet in the middle of the fight and every single eye in the contest saw he was not the Baron of Gannadár, but an adventurer in his disguise trying to dishonor the purity of this duel with his actions. But Conrad was not regretful about his decision. Yes, the thing Con
rad was doing may be seen as a dishonorable act for many, but in Conrad’s book, it was the right thing to do.
“Are you sure you can beat the Black Knight?” Gavise asked with a serious attitude. It is not something you can see every day.
“If I should be honest, no. You saw him at the Unac’h Dorn too. He may even be equal to me with the sword and when two equal fighters are in duel, luck decides who will die that day and who will walk away as a victor from the battleground.”
“I guess you are right. He slew the famous Vampire like it was nothing. A vampire that could talk with swords.” Gavise said. “And by the way, do you have any hidden wealth or something like that?”
“No, why?”
“Because if there is anything, it is the right time to reveal it, my friend! You can be sure that I would take good care of such a thing as your sole and designated heir if anything happens to you!”
“Designated heir?” Conrad knitted his eyebrows. “Well, you must know that you are not even on the list. And believe me, it is a pretty long one.” He smiled. “I won’t die today, Gavise.” I hope. “I don’t want yours to be the last friendly face I saw in my life.”
“Now, that’s the spirit.” Gavise reached his hand out to Conrad and talked with an emotional voice. “Good luck, old friend.”
Conrad shook his hand. “Thanks, brother.”
He grabbed the Baron’s shield and sword from the crate they were standing on, and then turned around to face the large entrance to the wooden arena. After opening the gates, Conrad advanced to the entrance and passed it with quick steps, while still trying to get used to the Baron’s heavy and immobile boots. He just wanted to end the fight as quickly as possible. He promised himself to protect the Baron’s honor, so he was going to fight against Evrard with everything he had without holding himself back, but if were possible for him or he had a chance to decide, he intended to keep all the participants of the duel alive, himself and his opponent, the Black Knight.
Even though all of this armor, especially the body plate, was restricting his body, he was thankful for being able to wear it at all as the Baron was slightly taller than him, and he was afraid the armor may not fit correctly. As an adventurer, Conrad of Battum had only worn a knight’s armor a few times before, and only during situations like these, when he had no other choice. He had always preferred the more comfortable and lighter leather to the expensive and inhibitive plate. Conrad did not need steel to cover his body as the steel in his hands had always been enough to keep him protected against the deadly attacks of the enemy. And in that case, that red and white painted shield with the dragon figure of the Baron’s would also only slow him down, but he had to use it because it was known that Baron Edmond always preferred to fight with his shield. And today, he had to be no one else but Edmond de Gannát, a knight who decided to face death for nothing but honor.
He took a few steps feeling the Baron’s ‘Honor’ at his hand. It was the first time he was ever going to use a sword of Crimson Steel, and he just hoped the rumors were right about its superiority over the other kind of steel. Even though he was standing across the arena, Conrad was able to see the Evrard de Wellon, wearing his famous black armor. While the Knight advanced through the arena, approaching his opponent, people all around cheered for him. They really want him to see fighting, don’t they.
As The Black Knight came to the center of the arena, a servant of House LaPellás presented him to the audience. “Here, I’m honored to present you Ser Evrard de Wellon, known across Baltaire as The Black Knight!” Conrad heard applause, a massive one, made for just and only Evrard. Then, after the audience calmed down a bit, he continued to walk to the center of the arena. As the crowd saw him, they shouted with great excitement and joy. Conrad couldn’t understand if it was because of his presence, or because of the end of this never-ending phase of waiting.
A bald and fat crier under the service of House LaPellás announced his coming from a wooden platform with his thunderous voice. “And here, I’m honored to present you Ser Edmond de Gannát, the heir of the late Geoffrey de Gannát and the Baron of Gannadár.” Conrad heard some supporting shouts and applause, but they were much weaker than those meant for Evrard.
After he was done, Lady Chanel nodded to the crier. “Then . . .” She said, her eyes were on the two participants. “ . . . under the auspices of the Holy One, I hereby start this tournament!”
After hearing the Lady’s permission, the two men approached each other and came face to face. Conrad was taller than the Black Knight, more than an inch, yet under his dark steel armor and strong posture, Conrad knew the knight looked much more menacing than he ever was. A dark knight fighting for his love. I wonder if my end will come of this. Almost sounds like a tale.
They stood facing each other for a while, to examine each other, until a voice rose from the crowd. “Start to fight before I piss myself!”
Evrard looked at Conrad’s face. Conrad could see his shining brown eyes under his dark helmet. “They want to see a fight, Baron,” Evrard said. “A fight in blood and dust. A fight that ends not with a victor and a loser, but with a survivor and a corpse.” He raised his sword to the air. “I thought you would not come, Baron.” The two men were walking around the duel area in a circle.
“Yet, I am here, Ser.” In an instant, Conrad blew the first strike to his opponent, just to weigh his speed. The Black Knight blocked it effortlessly but did not respond with another strike. It was obvious that he wanted to talk more before the actual fight began.
“Are you sure you really want to do this?” He asked his opponent.
“I am, Ser.” His opponent, Conrad, replied.
Evrard was surprised to hear that answer from the Baron of Gannadár. “I know how to fight, Baron. Better than you do.”
“I thought so,” Conrad said with a sarcastic voice.
“I don’t mean tourneys or foolish duels like this. I have fought battles of ash and blood in fields of fire and mud. That’s where I killed men, Baron, men that you cannot even dare to dream being near. Brave Lions of the North and rebellious Knights of the West fell before my sword. In Utornia, I rode with the Winged Knights and protected the Monarch from his kin. In Jamedia, I charged elephants of war with nothing but my steel and horse. I have been to a lot of fights, Baron. And most importantly, from the countless fights I have participated in, there was no single man I could not defeat. No matter how fierce they were, or even how many, I always dyed my blade with their blood.”
“Yet, Ser . . .” Conrad said. “ . . . you have never faced me before.”
The Black Knight decided to ignore his last sentence. “Your grandfather, he made a mistake and loved the wrong woman. Because of him, the woman and her true love suffered. Because of him, a feud started and blood was spilled. Are you sure about you want to pay for his sins, Baron? The sins you never committed in the first place?”
“Pay for with what?” Conrad asked as if he did not know.
“With your blood.” Evrard looked right into Conrad’s eyes and saw two brown stains. It was his last warning, as he didn’t want to slay the young Baron, and he didn’t know that the one standing before him was not a bold yet inexperienced knight of nineteen, but Conrad of Battum himself.
“I am even ready to pay for it with my life, Ser, but only if you can take it.”
And it started, this time for real. For one more time, Conrad of Battum was the first one to attack, but this time Evrard did not bite back. He met Conrad’s move with an equally aggressive strike. An audible roar rose from the excited crowd while the swords of the two duelers clashed in the air over and over. Despite all the armor he wore, The Black Knight was fast, faster than any other opponent Conrad had faced before. He parried another attack from Conrad to daze him and blew a strike near his head. If he had not bent backward, it might have cost Conrad his life.
Evrard did not pause. He made another blow, which Conrad blocked with his shield. He tried to concentrate, as he underst
ood now more than ever that fighting against Evrard de Wellon was not a joke, but a matter of survival. But even though he was facing such a skilled opponent, he was still Conrad of Battum, and he knew how to fight. Especially against opponents like this.
Conrad made another move towards Evrard with his sword, but again, the Black Knight was fast enough to parry it with his bastard sword and flew a kick towards Conrad. As he tried to block it with his shield, his hand weakened with Evrard’s kick, and he accidentally dropped the shield. Okay, this is good. Now it won’t slow me down anymore. He thought while making a quick yet strong attack. Evrard was surprised this time, as he did not expect it. But still, he was able to block the attack to make another. For a considerable length of time, the two fighters danced with a style only they knew. Steel clashed against steel and screams of excitement rose from the crowd.
They fought tooth for a tooth for minutes, but no fight could last forever. Ser Evrard, the Black Knight, was starting to get tired. He was stronger than Conrad, and definitely more familiar with the heavy armor, but his unnecessarily powerful attacks at the beginning of the duel had tired him far too quickly. He asked Conrad while trying to regain his strength. “Will you ever surrender?” He was breathless under his helmet.
“I would Ser, but . . .” Conrad looked at the Black Knight raising his sword, challenging him boldly. “ . . . I just never learned how.”
Then it was a game of speed, skill, and concentration. Even though they were significantly tired and sweating all over their armor under the warmth of the sun, they fought with much greater performance than they had done before. Because this time, they both wanted to end the fight, and they both wanted to win the day. The people were crying with delight, watching them without taking a breath, as if they were hypnotized. Steel clashed against steel, and man fought man. To decide a victor.
And it happened. After fighting for some minutes, Conrad had the opportunity he wanted from the beginning of the duel. As Ser Evrard raised his arm through the cloudy sky, he exposed part of his arm. Conrad quickly swung his sword to the man’s arm. Ser Evrard’s plate armor protected him from danger, but with the effect of the attack, he fell to the ground and dropped his sword from his hand, which Conrad quickly pushed away from him with his foot. While the crowd lost themselves to a deluge of excitement, Conrad pointed his sword towards the Knight. The Black Knight was surprised, he had never experienced defeat before, until now.
