The Kings Champion

Slowly finishing the laces on my shoes I glanced up, my vision traveled into a room holding the highest lords and ladies in Barius. Along the edges of the chamber, cushioned benches of white marble were filled with nobility, sitting higher up and away from the stone, white washed center rink packed with fine golden sand, held the lesser nobles. They were not quite royalty but still dressed and mannered far above the commoners who could not be found in this richly adorned amphitheater. Standing now I checked my belt, checking to make sure Breeze, along with my other weapons were properly placed. Of course I knew she was, this blade, my blade had led me to countless victories in not only the duel ring but on the battlefield where my life could be swept away with ease. I held my honor by her edge, and wouldn’t ever let her become mistreated. Stretching my tense body out of habit, I could hear the conversations and laughter of all fill my ears. To them this was just another game, a game for their entertainment. Had they been in my position, they would not be laughing.
Was I really just being used? Being royalty did have its advantages, but my honed skill with a blade was just being put to others uses. Had I realized those days and days of practice as a kid would give me this kind of lifestyle would I of kept practicing? My King used me, as his champion I was just a weapon, a sword which he challenged lords of distant lands with.
This little entertainment of theirs was just a test of skill, a test that could end in my death. I had no true reason to gamble my reputation, even life on how honed this opponent of mine would be. Had he not been chosen to represent Magistrate Elmdor in this contest we would never meet in battle, but as fate decided I am the Kings Champion, it is my duty to accept any and battle all, of his challenges.
Hearing my name echo across the hall I finished my stretches. Relaxing myself now, letting the tides of fear wash out of me I slowly walked into the chamber. Looking around, spotting all the higher-ups, Gareth of Naxen, Elihan of Ebonheart, my friends and the lands best. Finding my target, the King of Barius I nodded my head in respect. Looking to the other side of the room my eyes met my opponents just as he deeply bowed to the king. I personally had a problem with bowing to other humans, especially my older brother. Finding my place on the lines of beginning, I drew Breeze from her resting place in my silver washed sheath, into her proper setting, my grip. Looking at the sight of myself in the mirrored finish of the blade, my heart sent fire rippling through my veins as my confidence soared. Feeling the heat of flame in the silver wire of Breeze’s hilt, and rubbing the sapphire jewels studded along her guard, I extended Breeze out touching my opponent’s sword with the edge of my own, a symbol of respect in combat. Testing my footing I side stepped to the blow of the whistle, beginning the duel required by my duty. Eyeing my opponent now I could already hear the cheers echo across the hall as the battle referee lifts my hand . . . . It could be a long time till then, I thought.
Resettling my grip on the hilt I stepped in, closing the gap between the much larger man and myself. Raising my sword high to give the look of a basic quarter slash I stepped out of movement in mid step. Instead angling my blade to cut just above the mans thick plates of steel guarding his legs, landing my blade in the gap his armor created. Just before making contact with my blade edge a large force hit my chest, the heavy blow sent me stumbling back a few yards. Looking up in a slight daze, I shook my head while my vision cleared. I now stood in a defensive stance, I could see what happened. The larger man, with the full force of his strength and mass of his heavy plate had rammed into me. Luckily, I donned my lighter chain mail or the force would have sent toppling. Instead, I was left with complete numbness in my right side. Grinning I realized I might have a worthy opponent. While he still stood there broad sword in hand waiting in a square stance, a simplistic defensive stance, I ran at him. The speed my lighter chain mail allowed being fully put to use. Again, closing are gap . . . .
I loosely thrust my sword towards the mans chest. He stepped back and as I planned easily blocked the blow to his right and stepped towards me confidently. Using the momentum his block gave me, I twirled my blade in a crescent around his own sword, finishing with a slash at the mans left side. As he pivoted one and turned to face the slash aimed at his ribs, he brought his sword down controlling the heavy weight of steel with ease. My strong wrist gave way to his two-handed sword and strength behind it, forcing Breeze to the ground, my sword was pinned to the floor. With a roar of rage, still holding my blade I back stepped and twisted creating space between ous as I brought my armored leg up and kicked out, steel boots into the larger mans chest. Stumbling back, struggling to keep himself on his feet the larger man clad in full plate mail dropped his sword. His heavy armor made balance a hard thing to accomplish. Breeze gripped tightly in my left hand I again ran towards this off balanced, giant of a man. Extending my leg to its greatest height I swung my weight around landing my heel squarely unto the mans armored jaw. A crash of metal on metal echoed throughout the hall, lowering my foot I visibly winced in pain seeing the large dent on his helmet.
Now, sure of my victory I heaved Breeze who suddenly felt heavier up. I then threw a strong thrust, with all my strength into the thick steel protecting the mans stomach, and life. A loud tang of colliding sounded throughout the hall, my sword flew from my hand into the air landed with a thud unto the sand covered floor of the arena. Shocked, I took my opponents appearance into view. Standing triumphantly, two hands holding a large steel shaft topped with a ball etched like a porcupines back full of razor sharp needles. Taking a step back and crouching for a breath, I slipped two three-foot poles from my silver washed belt. Morning stars, each topped with a small ball of onyx meant to bash armor. Twirling one in each hand confidently I lifted my aching body back to a proper stance. Opening my eyes a mass of metal emerged into my vision, spiked ball in just one hand. I quickly sidestepped to the right, forcing him to change direction as I heaved both poles above my head in a block, an attempt to extend my life. A strike from that mace into my skull would be fatal; I do not think my helmet could withstand those needles. The sparks continued to fly as the blur of weapons traveled from myself to my opponent . . . .
Twirling I swung one of my two morning stars landing unto a mass of riventing spikes. Finishing the flow of my attack, I connected. A thud sounded across the hall, a gasp for breath could be heard. The deep gasping continued as the crowd silenced. Another crash, the spiked mace rolled on the floor. A explosion of plate mail smashing into the cold, marble floor shattered the silence that filled the air. Opening my eyes I could see what happened, my second morning star topped with its onyx head had been incased in the mans lower chest, crushing his lungs and any chance of regular breathing. Finally taking a breath of relief, I slowly scouted the ground. A gleam of blue light danced in front of my eyes as I stumbled to it, obviously tired. Scared I wouldn’t be able to stand back up if I crouched I bent over to lift the sword. Raising her above my head in a personal cry of victory, I walked back to my opponent. Crouching, I lifted his visor . . . .
A sweat soaked face looked at me, I lifted my own visor. Looking directly into the mans deep, black eyes and solid bone structure. His hair, soaked with sweat was a dark, thick black lying across his forehead. Attempting a smile his teeth shined white against his mocha, toned skin. From experience I half heartily grinned, standing now I lifted Breeze underneath the mans chin, forcing it up. Proudly I asked, “Do you yield?”
“Of course, your highness”, stopping for a gasp “good match your highness”, I gave my thanks and signaled for the court healers and referee. The now beaten man was rushed by a squire who un-strapped, and lifted the steel cuirass of his chest while a healers emerald green gift dipped into the abused wound, muttering something about broken ribs.
An eager dignitary swept me up, raising my hand, “I present you the victor, Geoffrey of Falchion and Korus, Champion to the King of Barius, and Knight Commander of The Draconis Escort” as a flurry of cheers and cries erupted from the stands, ringing throughout the antechamber. Glancing back at the beaten man, surrounded by people I sent a silent prayer of thanks to my patron god, the sun God Mithros. Walking still in a yell of cheers I left the arena, my rush from combat settling into aftermath calm . . . .