Chapter 50: Oh, The Glory Of The Tournament! (10)

“As I have repeatedly stated, the brave knights and esteemed guests gathered here today—”

Keldric stopped listening at that point and tuned out.  

The two knights who had entered the arena seemed to have been ready to fight for quite some time, but the host’s speech showed no signs of ending.  

It felt like at least thirty minutes had passed. Yet, the bald host standing in the uppermost noble seating area of the spectator stands showed no intention of shutting his mouth.  

“When is this going to end?”  

“I hear Lord Burggraf Kuno is known for his eloquence.”  

“Oh, really?”  

In other words, he just talked a lot. Keldric nodded with a wry expression at Sir Henri’s comment.  

As a Castellan, Kuno was in charge of managing and defending one of the major castles in the Bogenberg County. This made him a highly important retainer to the Count of Bogenberg.  

For someone of such high status, even impatient knights had no choice but to listen attentively.  

“Do you know anything about Lord Kuno? This is my first time meeting him.”  

“Hmm… not much. I’ve heard a few rumors here and there, but nothing detailed…”  

“Rumors?”  

At this time, rumors among the nobility could be both a lethal weakness and a weapon more dangerous than a blade to someone else.  

It was common to spread rumors intentionally, wait for them to fester, and then identify and destroy those who turned against their faction.  

If Sir Henri had heard of it, it was more likely to be genuine gossip rather than orchestrated slander.  

Keldric leaned in to listen closely to what Henri had to say. Even if it was just a rumor, it was worth paying attention to and filtering through.  

“Word has it that Lord Kuno may soon step down from his position on the advisory council. The rumor is so widespread that even I, after spending months wandering the northern territories, have heard about it. So, it’s likely all over this region.”  

“Why would that happen? Did he make some kind of mistake?”  

“There’s simply no room left on the council. It’s a complicated story, but… let’s just say a rolling stone is displacing one already lodged in place.”  

Keldric nodded reluctantly, though he didn’t seem entirely satisfied.  

In hindsight, it made sense that Sir Henri, who had been roaming the north for months, wouldn’t know the full details. But conversely, if even he had heard of it, this wasn’t just idle chatter.  

“Dare I say, I’ve heard a bit about this myself.”  

“Have you?”  

“Yes. Rumor has it that the Count of Bogenberg has been clashing with members of his advisory council…”  

If even Alyssa knew about it, it was clear this wasn’t something Keldric could dismiss as mere gossip.  

More importantly, the name of Lord Kuno’s family stood out.  

“…Did you say the Lombard family?”  

“Yes. He holds the title of Viscount Lombard. The Lombard Viscounts have served as trusted aides to the Counts of Bogenberg for generations.”  

Keldric’s eyes widened slightly. The Lombard family—it was a name he had heard before.  

‘Lombard family… could it be Sir Tolle?’  

It all clicked. Sir Tolle of the Lombard family, whom Keldric had nearly gotten into a fight with just the day before, was the connection.  

Now, Keldric understood why Sir Tolle had been staying at the castle.  

Keldric tucked this piece of information into the recesses of his mind for safekeeping. Who knew when or how it might come in handy?  

While Keldric, Sir Henri, and Alyssa continued dissecting rumors and gossip, Lord Kuno finally wrapped up his lengthy opening speech and raised a goblet of wine.  

“Now, let the tournament commence, and may the gods watch over this glorious event!”  

“May the gods watch over us!”  

The crowd roared, and the band positioned on either side of the high seat where the Count of Bogenberg was seated began to play instruments Keldric had never seen before.  

The two knights standing in the arena finally mounted their warhorses. Those wearing visored helmets lowered them, and their hands gripped their weapons tightly.  

Keldric watched the scene with sparkling eyes. Around him, equally excited knights and nobles shouted cheers for their favored contestants.  

“Wasn’t Sir Allen supposed to be in the second match?”  

“That’s what he claimed. Let’s just hope that Brittas knight doesn’t turn tail and run.”  

“Why do you have to be so harsh? Winning honorably is what matters.”  

“…Damn it! Insulting Candeillon’s wine is a crime that must be avenged, even in death!”  

As servants circulated among the crowd to handle the wagers being placed by nobles and knights, Keldric fixed his gaze intently on the knights facing each other across the arena.  

‘I need to study this carefully.’  

This was Keldric’s first time witnessing a jousting match. Naturally, it was also his first exposure to using lances for a tournament.  

It made sense to observe and learn beforehand to avoid making a fool of himself in the arena.  

“The first contestant, from the Crimson Mahogany Division, the honorable Sir Rupert of the distinguished Lichtenbaum family!”  

A knight clad in chain mail, a surcoat, and leather shoulder guards waved at the spectators. Draped over his shoulder was a crimson sash.  

“And his opponent, from the Green Woodpecker Division, the valiant Sir Ortwin of the noble Riesenbrunn family!”  

Across the field, a knight wearing a green sash over his shoulder also waved to the crowd as he tugged at his reins.  

Sir Ortwin’s pristine white warhorse spun in place and then rose onto its hind legs, kicking into the air.  

“Ooh…”  

Keldric let out a quiet gasp of admiration.  

While he knew that a well-bred warhorse was intelligent and strong, he had never seen one so obedient and skilled at performing tricks.  

The sight brought to mind Boreas, the steed stabled behind the arena. With his lustrous ivory coat and golden mane, Boreas looked to have an excellent pedigree. Keldric couldn’t help but wonder if he could train his horse to perform similar stunts.  

“Truly, Sir Ortwin lives up to his title of the ‘White Horse Knight!’”  

“A warhorse should be that clever!”  

“Sir Ortwin! Claim victory! Show us that your love, honor, and courage are unyielding!”  

The display of unity between Sir Ortwin and his warhorse captivated the crowd, eliciting enthusiastic cheers and applause from knights and nobles alike.  

“‘White Horse Knight?’”  

“Sir Ortwin, the ‘White Horse Knight.’ Don’t you know him?”  

“I’ve never heard of him.”  

“Hah… I don’t mean to be rude, but sometimes you really come across as a rustic knight from the middle of nowhere.”  

The comment stung, leaving Keldric silently fuming.  

It wasn’t as though he could easily retort with, ‘Well, yes, I’m a backwater knight just passing through’  without completely ruining his dignity. Instead, he sighed and bit his tongue.  

True to the proud demeanor of a typical Frankish knight, Sir Henri’s dismissive attitude toward Sir Allen continued to bother Keldric.  

“I’ll explain it to you.”  

“Thanks.”  

Luckily, the perceptive Alyssa carefully interjected. Otherwise, Keldric might have faced humiliation that was only slightly better than being labeled a clueless fool. He wore a faintly sour expression at the thought.  

“Sir Ortwin is renowned for his exceptional skill. His bond with his steed, Maribella, is particularly famous.”  

“Maribella?”  

It was an unusual name for a horse—more suited to a human woman than an animal.  

As Keldric tilted his head in confusion, Sir Henri, who had been listening silently, chimed in with a slightly wistful expression.  

“Maribella of the Heirenbrunn family. She was a remarkably famous lady in the southern empire. Her beauty was so extraordinary that even those from distant regions were captivated by tales of her.”  

“…That much?”  

“Regrettably, I never had the chance to meet her. She passed away six years ago.”  

Sir Henri’s story was tragic and romantic.  

Maribella, known for her extraordinary beauty, had fallen for Sir Ortwin at first sight during a tournament. The two were warmly welcomed by both families and swiftly became engaged, with plans for a smooth wedding.  

However, as if fate had played a cruel joke, Maribella succumbed to an unknown fever and passed away in Sir Ortwin’s arms.  

“Then, the very next day, a white horse galloped into Sir Ortwin’s estate, seemingly out of nowhere.”  

The horse had a dazzling white coat and a bright orange mane reminiscent of flame, making it not only stunning but also strong and enduring—ideal for a warhorse.  

Coincidentally, the late Maribella had similarly striking features: snow-white skin and vibrant orange hair.  

Believing that Maribella had returned to him in the form of the white horse, Sir Ortwin named the steed Maribella and left his family to wander the land with her.  

“Twenty-four tournament victories in total, and not a single loss in jousting matches! Achieving all this in just six years—do you believe it?”  

“…It seems a bit too coincidental. Is it even true?”  

“Who cares if it’s true or not! It’s such a beautiful, knightly tale!”  

Sir Henri appeared utterly enamored with the romantic and chivalric story.  

Indeed, the legend of the “White Horse Knight” Sir Ortwin was the kind of tale that would captivate knights. The tragic death of a beloved fiancée, followed by the sudden arrival of a mysterious, magnificent steed the very next day—it was a story filled with elements that knights revered.  

Considering the beliefs of the time, where plagues were thought to be divine punishment or curses from malevolent witches, the story even carried the message that neither divine fate nor witchcraft could sever the bonds of true love.  

“Sir Ortwin is one of the few knights I genuinely admire. Good heavens. I wager he’ll once again uphold his reputation in this tournament.”  

Keldric, glancing at the tearful Sir Henri with a faintly bemused expression, turned his gaze back to the arena.  

There, Sir Ortwin, now fully prepared with lance and reins in hand, faced Sir Rupert, who was also ready for the match.  

“What about Sir Rupert? Is he a worthy match for Ortwin?”  

“He’s known as the ‘Shield of Lichtenbaum.’ Sir Rupert is quite formidable as well.”  

Sir Rupert was among the rising stars, boasting an impressive record of sixteen tournament victories.  

Notably, six of those wins were consecutive a remarkable feat that solidified his reputation.  

If you wander through tournaments relentlessly, you’re bound to taste defeat at least once. But achieving six consecutive victories without a single loss is nothing short of an extraordinary feat.

“The Duke of Bogenberg must have had quite the challenge. I was looking forward to the first match, but I didn’t expect him to orchestrate such an exciting battle!”

Tournaments, by their nature, were events that consumed a massive amount of money.  

To recoup even a fraction of that expense, naturally, they had to charge the spectators.  

In other words, more spectators meant more revenue to cover the costs.  

To attract an audience, the event had to be thrilling. Therefore, the opening match of a tournament typically pitted well-known knights against each other.  

“What do you think of Sir Rupert versus Sir Ortwin? Who do you think will win?”  

“I’ve never seen the two fight directly, so I can’t say. Sir Rupert isn’t to be underestimated, though. Still, personally, I’d like Sir Ortwin to win.”

Finally, the two knights tucked their lances under their arms, clearly preparing for a joust.  

Keldric held his breath, completely focused on the arena.  

Even the noisy stands, filled with all kinds of cheering, fell silent as they watched the two knights solemnly prepare their lances.  

In the midst of the silence, the voice of the officiant from Castle Kuno resounded thunderously.  

“Knights! The time has come to prove your skill and courage! Fight for the honor of your houses and lords!”  

As the stands erupted in cheers once more, the two honorable knights spurred their horses forward.  

The two steeds, understanding their riders’ commands, stomped the ground powerfully almost in unison.  

“Oh, ohh!”  

“As expected of Sir Ortwin! What a magnificent steed he has!”  

“Victory to the White Knight! Claim your glory!”  

“Sir Rupert! Don’t give up!”  

The distance between the two rapidly closed.  

Like the rest of the audience, including Sir Henri and Alyssa, Keldric unknowingly leaped to his feet.  

Sir Ortwin’s Maribella charged like the wind, while Sir Rupert’s black steed, with its striking dark coat, stormed ahead.  

The duel of the White Knight’s horse against the Black Knight’s horse was shaping up to be a clash for the ages.  

For any man, especially a knight with fiery blood, this was a spectacle they couldn’t miss.  

As the distance between them shrank to a breath, the lances, once aimed skyward, pointed at each other simultaneously.  

And they closed in rapidly.  

Each lance targeted the chest of the opponent, and the two horses, their manes flowing in the wind, galloped like storms.  

CRACK!  

In that instant, a lance struck true and shattered.  

The two noble steeds passed each other, running a distance further before coming to a halt.  

It was Sir Rupert who tumbled to the ground, struck by the lance.  

“Woooaaahh!”  

Deafening cheers engulfed the arena.  

Even Keldric, not usually one to show such enthusiasm, couldn’t help but be swept up in the excitement as he watched the match.  

‘Unbelievable. There’s no comparison.’  

It was nothing like the pitiful, muddy brawl between Sir Henri and Sir Allen.  

This was pure, primal excitement that stirred the blood, something far beyond mere amusement.  

“The glorious victor of the first match is the honorable Sir Ortwin of the House of Reisenbrun! May the gods comfort the defeated!”  

“Sir Ortwin! Sir Ortwin!”  

“The undefeated White Knight!”  

Amid the spectacle, even a few noblewomen fainted, overcome by the thrill of the event. Keldric stared, mesmerized, at Sir Ortwin as he raised his lance triumphantly.  

‘Maybe, one day…’  

He could stand there too.  

The glory of victory, the soaring fame, and the thunderous cheers and applause of countless spectators.  

He could claim it all.  

For a man, and especially for a knight, it was an irresistible dream.  

Keldric’s heart pounded fiercely.  

The glory of the tournament was now waiting for its next contender.