Chương 115: Jousting Grounds

I chased after Brawl, running through the hallways of the barracks as fast as I could.

"What is it?" I asked. The horns sounded again in the distance, this time much closer." Who is arriving?"

"Anchor thinks it is Lord Hinlaw," Brawl said.

"Who's he?"

"You will have to ask Anchor for an explanation. I cannot remember exactly what he said." When we left the hall, we rushed to the castle gate, where Anchor, Sage, and Morph waited for us. Anchor motioned outside the castle, where a central thoroughfare led through the center of the jousting grounds. Tents lined the sides of a packed mud road, and semi-permanent structures sprang up amongst them. The tournament would last until the height of summer, give or take any unforeseen mishaps.

Slowing to a walk, I followed Anchor, then asked, "What is happening? Who are we expecting?"

"Brawl told you it's Lord Hinlaw, yes?" Anchor asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, those sound like his horns. Deeper than most." I was about to ask who Lord Hinlaw was, but a wagon passed between us. I slowed down to let the wagon pass, then rushed to catch up. At the same time, I desperately tried to take in the chaos of the camp. Some smaller residential tents lined the roadway, but there were plenty of other larger tents, more like longhouses, which many people stepped in and out of.

Greenway merchants lined the roads, their wagons unfolding into temporary shops, and they all boasted green standards, marking their affiliation to the guild—it was a guarantee of sorts. You couldn't trust any old wandering merchant, but if one set up a green flag, you knew they were about to sell you something that was worth the sceats. I was less confident in the blacksmiths. Some had set up proper (but temporary) forges, and one boasted that they employed Path-walkers, but I wasn't too sure.

We'd be sticking with the castle smiths for now. The thoroughfare curved to the right, angling away from the castle, and we passed a sparring ground filled with thegns and their helpers, who practiced fighting, who sparred with each other, slamming cloth-wrapped weapons into shields or jabbing with lances. A jousting training course lay on the far side, where men trotted their horses down fake courses and aimed to get their heavy lances into a ring, or to strike targets.

Anyone training wore colourful gambesons, usually decorated with some symbol of their house. And all the thegns were Path-walkers, of course. If they were sorcerers, they tended to deploy their arts during training. One man blasted a fistful of arcane flame, flicking it outward, but two other thegns rushed in, chastising him for using a dangerous art like that.

"What do you guys call a thegn's helper?" I asked. All of them seemed to have an assistant of some kind.

"A squire," Sage replied.

"Oh," I muttered.

"I should've guessed that." Aside from the thegns and their squires, mercenaries and regular Dupes patrolled the streets. We had three squads of Dupes from the 294th here to help guard the high-priority nobles, along with a company of mercenaries (who wore orange ponchos to mark their association).

"Gotta be one of the safest places to be right now," Anchor said.

"Enough thegns to slay a dragon."

"Dancing around power-hungry nobles isn't exactly my idea of safety," I countered. Anchor snorted.

"You do you, I suppose. At least they aren't trying to rip my face off for existing. Unlike the yelloweyes." After another few steps, a whiff of spiced food washed past my nose. I glanced around, tracing it instantly to a vendor a few paces off the main thoroughfare. It would've taken me longer to trace had I not been deploying so much Focus, but as it was, I found it in a flash. A tent and a temporary food vendor sold spiced skewers.

I wasn't sure exactly what meat it was, until I spotted the pheasant coop behind the counter. A man grilled skewers of pheasant meat over a portable stone stove, roasting their flesh while basting them with a honey marinade.

"Those will be pricey…" Anchor warned. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"We've got funds to spare," I said. It wasn't that the food here was terrible, but I was looking for a change from tavern food or infused rations. And, though the horns still sounded in the distance, they hadn't arrived yet. We had to do something to keep ourselves busy. A man with dark skin and a bald head cooked the skewers, and his son rushed around behind the counter, preparing spices and mixing up new marinades, while checking on their stocks.

It'd been a while since I'd seen anyone who looked like them—especially compared to Earth cities—but Sage and the others seemed far more shocked than I was. I whispered, "Don't stare, it's rude."

"I didn't think I'd ever see a man from the Bluelands, brother," Brawl whispered.

"You used to see more of them in trading cities," Sage said.

"They come from farther south, from a land across the sea."

"Used to see more of them?" I asked.

"What happened?"

"Their lands are suffering just the same as ours. Orc attacks, the like. I don't know how they've been faring, but it doesn't sound good." The man cooking the skewers cleared his throat, then called out to us, speaking in a deep voice, "My son and I missed the last ship to Ghurni in autumn. Now, I hear, there are no more ships travelling between our lands, and the trade lanes have closed. Too many orcs, or worse, I fear what has become of my home."

"I'm sorry," I said, approaching the counter.

"Don't be," the man replied.

"I paid good money for my trade license, and it should be valid for five more years. We brought enough spices to last five years, too."

"Mom's already gone," the man's son replied.

"And here, Welkinmere fills the sky. Mom watches us from the Eye." I nodded slowly.

"Why'd you try to go back, then?"

"With things getting worse, as they were, who wouldn't try to catch the last ship to a familiar land? Don't get me wrong, yours is a beautiful country. But it's not home."

"Fair enough, I suppose," I said. My stomach audibly gurgled, and I faced the man.

"Are any of them ready?"

"Give them a few more minutes," the man said.

"But we'll serve you first."

"Thanks." The horns sounded one last time, and this time, it was much closer.

"You may wish to step away from the road," the man said. We all stepped back from the street, and just in time. A rider in yellow livery galloped down the road, carrying a banner with an eagle-shaped sigil on it.

"Clear the way!" he called.

"Clear the way!"

"And there's the lord," Anchor muttered. Hoofs clomped on gravel, and a wave of dust washed over the camp, along with a swell of arcane pressure—like I usually felt from Lord Ceonwin, but twice as strong. I knew Lord Ceonwin usually masked his presence partially, but this lord didn't seem to care. A moment later, an entourage of riders galloped past.

Their armour was scale mail, each scale etched to look like a feather, with a small cuirass over the chest and an intricately carved pauldron on their shoulder, designed to look like a eagle's head. The beak curled down around their arms. They wore bright yellow cloaks, and they carried tall standards, each with a streamer fluttering behind. This entourage rode straight for the castle. They didn't stop to set up tents outside—they probably had arrangements for rooms within the castle, and possibly within the keep.

As they passed, a few of the mortal civilians in the street bowed to them, and a crowd of working boys cheered.

"Lord Hinlaw defeated an incursion west of Oschester a few months back," Anchor said.

"Defending his lands, of course, but it was right on the border of his Domain and Ceonwin's. I'd say word has spread."

"If only people here knew what Lord Ceonwin did at Oschester," I grumbled.

"Ceonwin's actions are slightly overshadowed by the joust." I shook my head.

"That's petty."

"That's the Warlord," Sage hissed.

"But Hinlaw is strong. He's a Gold, though he's almost advanced to Emerald tier, and his Domain is the largest south of the mountains. It curls around the western reaches of Ceonwin's, and has a few ports in it, which made them quite wealthy."

"And now they're coming for Ceonwin's Domain."

"They want to put one of their family's sons in charge of it, indeed," Anchor said. The entourage galloped past. At first, I took it as a petty maneuver, seeing them galloping. They must've only increased their pace as they arrived, a bit of a flex if I said so myself, but they probably had enhanced, bonded horses. There was a chance they'd just been galloping all this time. When they passed and the dust cleared from the air, I sighed, then looked away.

"Careful with Hinlaw and his family," Sage said.

"They're the Warlord's pets. I guarantee you, they're looking for Hinlaw's eldest son to take Ceonwin's Domain and make it favourable to the Warlord once more."

"Why not just send an army to conquer him, if he's that worried about Ceonwin rebelling?" I asked.

"It'd be expensive, it would spare too many troops, and it wouldn't look good. The Warlord cares enough about optics still." Brawl added, "Hinlaw is being played, anyway, brothers. Slimy."

"Hm?" I tilted my head.

"Had it not been for Ceonwin's Domain holding the line, the southern front surely would've fallen," Anchor agreed.

"The Warlord wants men like Hinlaw in the south because they weaken their domains. Once the south falls, then the Warlord will have his justification to tear the Great Charter to shreds and rule like a tyrant—and he'll tell you it's to prevent any more damage, like what happened here."

"He wants us to fall to scare the rest of Gate…" I muttered.

"And Hinlaw will help him."

"Indeed," Sage agreed.

"Now be quiet. You don't know who might be listening."

"Yeah," I said. I turned back to the vendor.

"Your skewers are ready," the vendor from the Bluelands told us.

"Four silver sceats for four skewers."

"That's the price you pay for spices, I suppose." We could afford it easily, though. We each chipped in a coin, then took our skewers, and set off toward the lists. Now that Hinlaw had arrived, the joust could truly open.