The Tournament Begins

"We really should have begun with the joust," you say in an aside to Duncan as the first event of the tournament, the blacksmithing competition, stretches well into its second hour.

"Perhaps, Sire," Duncan replies. "However, the people wished to honor your roots, of course. In any event, I am sure that you can appreciate the skill on display here today. As word traveled that the King of Elyssia had spent his youth at the forge, it piqued the interest of several great masters of the trade, and they have come to us to show their talents in an arena where they could receive perhaps greater attention than they have ever before in tournament."

"Yes, Duncan, I can see that the craftsmanship being shown here today is exemplary... but it is dull to watch even for me, so I cannot imagine how it is perceived by my guests. I can only hope they do not think I am being self-indulgent!"

"Every tournament in history has taken place in large part to indulge the King or Lord of the land, Sire. If this is indeed what others perceive, then it is a far more tolerable instance of self-indulgence than some I have seen. At the very least, you are not baring your sword in the fencing competition and exacting punishments upon those who dare to perform too well against you!"

You look at Duncan with an eyebrow raised. "You have truly witnessed such royal insecurity on full display?"

"Sire, I have seen Lords who accept nothing less than the prize of first-place ribbon in every contest except sewing."

You chuckle a bit at that. "Well, if that's the sort of thing that's expected of me, I believe I can provide it and give these unfortunate people a chance to stretch their legs at the same time. Duncan, have Sir Magnus announce that I will go and inspect the ongoing work of the smiths, that I might see their skill up close, and that others in the crowd may join me if they wish; we will form an orderly procession past the forges. While this is going on, the people are welcome to leave their seats to have a drink or to take care of other needs. And so that the lines at the ale-carts and the privies do not stretch too long, have them dismissed by rows, starting from the top."

"That is an excellent suggestion, Sire!" Duncan says, favoring you with the proud and almost paternal smile which he shows when he is pleased with your performance as King. "In this way, the smiths will not feel slighted of attention, and this restless crowd may take a well-needed respite. Lady Trina! Please accompany the King as he walks upon the field; the Captain should remain here with our guests."

Your throat tightens somewhat as Trina comes to your side; you are acutely aware that the two of you have not spoken since your moment at the Mill. Outwardly, Lady Trina shows absolutely no sign other than that she is performing her duty, and she has disciplined herself too well for you to see any of what goes on behind her eyes. Of course, it would not do for you to speak now of any new feelings which have surfaced within you; indeed, it is clear that you ought follow her example, and behave as though nothing is out of the ordinary.

You head down the steps as the booming voice of Sir Magnus makes your announcement for you, and by the time you step out onto the field at least half of those in the uppermost row have vacated their seats and make their way toward the exits (Master Lucius, Elyssia's most learned engineer, modeled the stands after the Coliseum in Rome with its masterfully designed points of entrance and egress; even such a large crowd may move quickly and easily throughout the structure). The smiths stop their work and bow their heads as you approach, but you gesture for them to continue their work, and after a moment they all resume.

"Master Bertoldo; this is your name, am I correct?" you say to the first of the smiths.

"You honor a simple craftsman, Your Majesty," he says humbly, placing his hammer down once more to pay his respect.

"Please, Master Bertoldo, I bid you to take up your hammer - I know well the importance of striking while the iron is hot."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," he replies, and after a short bow he resumes pounding the steel. Sparks fly from his anvil, and you feel compelled to step back, as you are not wearing the heavy leather apron which would protect your clothes from catching fire!

After observing him for a moment, you say, "You hold the tongs exactly as my own master did, Bertoldo; Methodius of Kaczawa was his name."

Bertoldo looks up at you at that remark. "So, it is true then - the Great Swordmaker came here when he disappeared from the world?"

Bertoldo forgets your honorific, but of course you make no mention of it. "He did, and I was honored to learn the forge at his tutelage, though of course my own skill never approached that of the Great Master. He lived many years here in Elyssia, and passed to the next world just shy of ten years ago."

The smith's eyes go to the sword in your belt, and widen when he beholds what he sees there.

"My own sword is the work of Methodius, yes," you say with pride. "If you wish to see it more closely, you and the other smiths here may join us in the Tournament Gardens following this contest. You may all see it; but only the victor may hold it in his hand!"

"Then I shall win, Your Majesty!" Bertoldo says firmly, and resumes his hammering with new determination.

After speaking briefly with the other smiths, you bid them all to carry on with their crafting and begin to make your way back to the stands. The small crowd which followed behind you are those who were interested enough to come down for a closer look in the first place, and so you leave the area with only Trina at your side.