Preparations for the match

"Subhi, my friend," you say to the Sultan, who sits to Lady Valerie's right side, "it would seem that the deciding match is between your most skilled duelist and mine. Shall we go down to the field so that we may stand by our champions?"

"A splendid idea, Xavier! And to make it even more entertaining, perhaps we might place a wager on the outcome?"

You had expected this, of course. "Certainly, Subhi. But in all fairness, you have gold and treasures aplenty; anything I might put up as a wager would pale before the wealth you have already. What, then, does the Great Sultan wish that I could offer?"

"I want a sword," Subhi says. "A scimitar, made from the very finest steel, with a hilt to fit my hand and a hollow in the pommel so that I may place my own gemstone."

"Certainly," you say, surprised at the simplicity of the request. "I have no such sword in my possession, but I can have Omar forge one should your man prove victorious. It will take some time, of course; I cannot promise it will be ready before you must take your leave."

"No, that will not do," Subhi says, smiling broadly. "I want a sword made by the King of Elyssia - a weapon crafted by YOUR hands, friend Xavier! A sword for a Sultan, forged by a King! That is what you can offer me that I do not have."

"Done!" you agree. "And, what can you pledge which will match such a magnificent sword as this shall be?"

Subhi laughs heartily, and reaches inside his robes, withdrawing an intricately carved wooden box. "I believe this will suffice," he says, and opens the box to reveal a splendid platinum ring, more beautiful and delicate than any you have ever seen, and set with a larger diamond than you have ever heard of!

"Subhi, this is too much!"

"Do not think you can weasel out of our wager so easily, my friend! I want that sword, and by Allah I shall have it!"

"Then so be it," you say, and clasp Subhi's forearm as he does yours. "And now, I must ask you and my other noble guests to grant me leave to speak with Lady Trina, to offer what encouragement I have to give before the final contest. Pray excuse me, my lords and ladies."

"I should like to speak with Lady Trina, if that would be welcome," you say in a quiet voice to the squire who stands outside her tent. "Please, tell her that if she can better make her preparations without my presence, I will understand; she may turn me away if she wishes, and I require no explanation."

"Yes, Sire. One moment, I beg." The boy bows to you slightly clumsily, then goes into the tent. You wait only a few seconds before he emerges and says, "My Lady is pleased to see you, Sire."

"Thank you, Wilfred," you say to him, and draw the flap aside to enter. As you do so, Lady Trina rises from where she had been kneeling before a single candle flame which sputters as a light breeze enters the tent with you. She is still clad in her armor, as there is no time to remove it and put it back on, but you see that it drips wet from where she had her squire douse her with water to alleviate the heat of the day and of her recent exercise.

"Sire," Trina says, bowing her head slightly as you enter.

"Lady Trina, you have fought very well today, exceeding even my own expectations - and my opinion of your prowess with a sword is so high, this is not easily accomplished!"

"You honor me, Sire."

"I speak the truth only." You gesture toward the candle, and continue, "You meditate in the manner of Master Sanjay, I see?"

"It was he who taught me the technique," Trina says. "There is not enough time before the match to enter a true meditative state, but I thought it might help me to focus nonetheless." She looks somewhat worried, you note.

"I am sure you will emerge victorious," you say by way of encouragement.

"I am not so sure, I fear," she says. "I have been watching Abdul fight, and he is by far the most skilled swordsman on the field today; perhaps more so than any other I have ever faced. And I do not think he will spare me his best because I am a woman - not that I would wish him to, for a victory on such terms would be hollow."

"From what I have seen, you two seem evenly matched, it is true," you acknowledge. "But he is not as light on his feet as you are, and his sword is heavier and therefore slower. I am sure you have observed this as well as I."

"Yes, Sire. But, it also concerns me that I have seen him take trophies from each opponent he has vanquished. This is common practice; you will observe that I now own a new helm and breastplate from my last duel, which I did not even want but it would have been insulting to refuse it. My concern is that if Abdul is victorious, he will claim the Iron Ring. Perhaps you should take it back, Sire; he cannot demand what is not mine to give."

"If he does claim the Ring, then it goes without saying that he would not receive the authority which goes along with it," you assure her. "And, a new ring can be forged; it will not be the same, of course, but we will do what we must. Please keep the Iron Ring, Lady Trina, and know that my confidence in you is unwavering." You pause a moment, and then say, "Also, so that you will not be caught by surprise, know that the Sultan and I will be watching the match from ringside rather than the stands."

"Has he made a wager?" Trina asks.

"Of course."

"And, what does he stand to win?"

"Something that would be my pleasure to give to him, if need be," you say. "Have no concerns on that score, My Lady."

There is a noise outside the tent, and you indicate to Trina that you will need just a moment. You come back inside carrying a sheathed sword, which you offer to her.

"Your tourney sword is broken," you say. "I offer you mine as a replacement. I know that you are familiar with it, and have wielded it before in the practice yard."

Trina looks at you with wide eyes, and takes the hilt of the sword in one hand, drawing it out slowly (the Kingsguard is privileged to draw swords in your presence). She looks it over from hilt to tip; apart from the materials from which it is made, it is the exact twin of the blade you carry at your side, with the same weight and balance. Unlike most tourney swords, it is polished so that it gleams just as though it were quenched and hardened steel. There is no sapphire in the pommel, but there is a polished stone of lesser value which sparkles almost as brightly.

"I am... thank you, Xavier," she whispers - and then she puts her hand to her mouth, suddenly realizing she has called you by name!

"Fight well, Sara, my Swordmaiden," you reply with a smile, taking her hand and kissing it gently. "Fight well, and win the day!"