Chapter 64

“Lord Harrow truly surprised me. I thought he simply had unique ideas…” Prince Bennett said.

“He surprised everyone…” Lord Jayson replied.

Skyla looked at the two with dry eyes. “I believe Lord Harrow, humble as he tried to be, said he planned to achieve good results in the tourney…”

“But he’s so young, 16, I presume. Or maybe he lied.” Bennett said.

“I don’t think he did, but his physique indeed can confuse people.” Lord Jayson said.

Skyla looked down toward the joust below. The first tilt between Lord Harrow and Sir Wallis commenced. 

Their lances quickly met their marks and shattered, before the riders wheeled around for another round.

“Hm… Lord Harrow shows more surprise then. Prince Cale is lucky to have such a lord under him.” Prince Bennett said as another pair of lances exploded, both jousters managing to stay on their horses.

“Is he?” Lord Jayson asked a faint smile before he took a sip from his cup, his gaze never leaving the field. 

“When Lord Harrow told us earlier that he was confident in his tenacity… it looks like he wasn’t kidding.”

When the third lances shattered, Lord Harrow wobbled in his saddle but quickly reoriented himself. Sir Wallis, on the other hand, was already dazed in his seat, barely managing to grip his next lance.

“Looks like your knight will lose, Lord Jayson.” Prince Bennett said, a small smile playing on his face.

“Indeed…” Lord Jayson agreed just as the fourth round came, likely the final round. “But at least my knight managed to reach this far…”

Then, before everyone's eyes, Lord Adrian Harrow, an unknown lord from the south, unhorsed Sir Wallis, securing his place in the grand finals against Lord Corvus Night.

The crowd cheered at the spectacle, especially the commonfolk, who loved seeing an underdog reach such a high place. Now, everyone wondered who would win the final. 

Though by the state of Lord Harrow, everyone thought it would be Lord Corvus, but then, Lord Harrow has surprise them time and time again.

Nightfall was approaching, but the crowd was still full of enthusiasm.

“Who do you think will win?” Bennett asked Jayson, while Skyla simply leaned back and closed her eyes now that the joust was finished.

“I’d say the obvious choice is Lord Corvus, especially since he has had more rest, but… Lord Harrow continues to surprise us…” Lord Jayson said, his tone more casual now.

Before they could continue talking about the joust, Skyla spoke, “What does Father plan to do?”

Bennett looked toward her. “I think it’s set in stone already. Besides, we have this skilled warriors on hand, so why not?”

“Hmm…” the Princess only hummed.

“And Lord Winthrope's report on the underground areas?”

“Not good… but apparently the elves have something in store that will help repel the monsters…”

“Magic?” Lord Jayson tried to hide the hint of doubt in his tone, but judging by the amused expression on Prince Bennett's face, he failed.

“The elves have their specialties, just like the dwarves or giants.” Bennett could only say.

--

Rows of torches were placed around the arena and lanes, lighting up the stage for the final joust.

Adrian was already on his horse. Using a spare armor, his armor from before too fragile and dented to be used before the finals. He had chosen to mount up quickly, yet despite already being on his horse, a small crowd of lords and even a few ladies still lingered around him.

“Lord Harrow, I'm betting on you to win…” Lord Leland said. He was the most enthusiastic of them all, especially since Adrian had fought his father earlier and, though he lost, had put up a hell of a fight.

“Lord Harrow, I look forward to sparring with you, if it’s okay…” a young knight from the north, of a similar age to Leland, added.

“Lord Harrow, perhaps we can have lunch together tomorrow…” a certain lady said, whose name Adrian had already forgotten.

“I appreciate the words and offers, lords, ladies, and Sir, but for now, I need to focus…” Adrian couldn't help but finally say. He adjusted his grip on his reins, wishing the joust start already.

His words were taken well, and they slowly left his side until only Dexton and Bron remained.

“Milord, whatever happens tonight, I hope you prioritize your health. Everything else is secondary.” Dexton advised seriously.

“I won’t-” Adrian cut himself off. He was about to say that he wasn’t going to die today, but those felt like ominous words. Life had a way of making a joke out of things people say, and he didn't want to tempt fate. 

"I'll be careful.." He corrected with a wry smile. It was then that some servants gestured to him, signaling that the time had come. Bron gave Furley one last check, the reins strapped tight before stepping back.

Adrian nudged his horse forward into the open arena, and a wave of cheers erupted from the crowd, louder than anything Adrian had heard yet.

He scanned the crowd, the excitement obvious on their faces. Some even held small banners for the person they were rooting for, and to his surprise, it seemed he had more supporters than Lord Corvus.

That was surprising, but his thoughts quickly turned to his final enemy, the heir of Ravenspire. 

This was the man who had fought against the Breakstone Kingdom, a people who supposedly carried the distant bloodline of giants. He was the Blackspear, and the undisputed champion of the melee.

It was strange now that he thought about it, he shouldn’t have reached this point. He only did so because of the unexplainable gift he possessed. But then he reasoned, some people were born to high lords with power, while he was born with a gift. They had their luck, and he had his, so it seemed fair. Adrian justified it to himself.

Soon, the crowd's noise died down as the last two jousters aligned themselves, lances pointed forward into the night. The horses neighed and snorted, as if sensing what was coming.

Adrian steeled his mind. Even with his gift, he honestly couldn’t guarantee a victory, especially after the pounding he had taken the entire day. He could heal his body with his gift, sure, but it took a mental toll every time he used it. Mental exhaustion wasn't something that healed along with his flesh, he needed rest, and he had only managed a couple hours between jousts. There was a real chance he could get knocked out instantly here if he wasn’t careful.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Adrian focused entirely on the matter at hand. It didn’t matter what he had used to reach the finals, he was going to win this.

Adrian tightened his grip on his lance. The tension in the air rose suddenly, making it feel as if the arena had been submerged in boiling water. Then, a low-rung horn sounded.

Adrian felt as though he were suddenly surging upward toward the surface of the water, breaking through, free and flying towards the inevitable. His eyes widened, his posture straightening more than ever, and then he brought his lance low.

There was a tremendous impact, and suddenly Adrian was disoriented, confused, and dazed. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was.

He blinked, instinctively pulling himself forward with the reins as a warm rush spread over his body, healing and washing away the ache and numbness. His head, however, was still a little dizzy.

Still, with the physical pain gone, clarity returned just in time. He saw Dexton hastily handing him another lance, concern written all over his face. Adrian grabbed it and wheeled his horse around for the next tilt. He briefly scanned the crowd before they blurred into a distant abstraction, and then came another impact.

This time, Adrian managed to adjust slightly and avoid the brunt of the hit, keeping his seat perfectly. But so did Lord Corvus. Their lances intact.

Another turn, and on the third tilt, their lances exploded, shattering completely. Once again, Adrian was dazed, but adrenaline allowed him to recover quickly.

On their fourth tilt, armed with new lances, Adrian managed to strike Lord Corvus squarely on the shoulder, nearly knocking the lord from his horse, while Adrian only took a glancing blow to his already dented shield.

Victory was close at hand. Adrian snorted with newfound energy, grabbing another lance for their fifth round.

When the impact happened, both of them were nearly unseated. Adrian could taste blood, saliva dripping from his mouth, before the warmth washed over his body to heal it once more. But the strain was taking a massive toll on his mind now.

By routine, Adrian grabbed yet another lance and pointed it forward, pushing himself beyond his limits.

A guttural roar erupted, and it took him a moment to realize the sound had come from his own throat.

Adrian let out a fierce battle cry as he charged. Right then, nothing else existed in the world save for his horse and his lance. He even forgot who he was, nothing mattered but the enemy in front of him.

Pouring everything he could muster….

Thwack!

Splinters of wood shot toward his helm, causing him to twist his head and snap his eyes shut. When he opened them, he was about to round the corner, intending to grab another lance. But he noticed Dexton wasn't approaching. Instead, he just stood there, his eyes wide with shock holding a lance. The nearby servants wore the exact same expression, all of them staring past him.

Adrian turned to look back. It took him a moment to register the black-armored figure lying in the dirt, and another moment for the reality to sink in.

Lord Corvus had fallen.

That meant... As soon as the thought formed, the world rushed back into focus, and Adrian was greeted by a deafening, earth-shaking roar from the crowd.

He had won!