Chapter 50
They encountered a little trouble on the morning of the fourth day. A group of bandits tried to ambush them, though they were quickly dealt with. After a brief interrogation, Adrian discovered they were refugees, or at least people who had fled their villages due to monster attacks.
Instead of continuing south like the others Adrian had taken in, they had remained in the area and turned to banditry. It was hard to enact justice in the middle of the journey so aside from the one’s they had killed during the conflict, he had broken the arms of everyone who survived and then let them go.
It wasn’t permanent and crippling injury, but they would need to nurse their arms for months at least.
Early on the morning of the fifth day, they finally arrived.
In the distance, Adrian and his group saw a sea of tents with thin trails of smoke rising into the air.
However, his attention was immediately drawn to the town's walls. They were strange, the rear walls nearest the tents were tall, standing over five meters high, but as his gaze followed the stone wall around to the other side, the scale changed drastically. Even from his current position, Adrian could see the main wall fortifications in the direction of Creviceton mountains loomed over twenty meters tall.
He had heard of Ironwall, originally a fortress built to defend against the monsters emerging from Creviceton. Over time, as the monster sieges died out, the fortress had evolved into a town. Now seeing it in person, Adrian could feel its ferocity, it truly was a place forged for war against beasts. The grey stones of it seemed to soak up the morning sun, appearing more like a sleeping giant than a settlement.
If Whitesand Town felt like a normal town, this town felt like an old soldier, scarred and hardened, yet still incredibly strong.
Adrian’s attention turned back to the sprawling camps and the distant hum of the crowd. He loved the bustle of a large gathering and had long yearned for it. Aside from the inevitable burden of socializing with other lords, he looked forward to the tournament and, most importantly, the energy of the people.
Adrian looked back at his group. Dexton, catching his eye, made sure everyone looked presentable. Their banner was raised high, clean and proud in the wind. With one last look at his men, Adrian let out a steady breath.
“Let’s go.”
--
Tents lined the way, some poorly made and worn, others grander and more sturdy. There were stalls selling food, wares, and trinkets, while others hosted small plays and performances. Adrian nearly veered off to watch one, but Dexton quickly reminded him that he needed to pay his respects to the lords of the town before he could wander off.
Adrian made mental notes of the places he planned to visit later. He was going to make sure he thoroughly enjoyed his stay, even if he didn't achieve great results in the tourney.
Soon they entered the town through wide-open gates. The first thing he noticed, which he had spotted even from a distance, was the massive, square keep. It was thick and hardened, built directly into the towering wall itself. He had never seen such a formidable structure.
Adrian admired it for a moment before nudging his horse forward. The town was built entirely on stone, looking at the houses and the bustling streets, he could feel the excitement of the coming tournament.
Caught up in the excitement, Adrian dismounted and began walking alongside his horse.
“Milord, it would be more appropriate for you to remain mounted.” Dexton called out, despite dismounting himself to join him.
“You know the steward isn't here, you don't have to repeat his words.” Adrian teased.
“The steward told me specifically to keep milord in line...”
“Ah, I remember when you used to complain about the rules of conduct on your way to becoming a knight. It was a simpler time, a better time,” Adrian said with a grin.
Dexton chuckled. “He also told me to behave properly and not bring shame upon you, milord.”
“There’s the Dexton I know.” Adrian said, his eyes busy taking in the sights.
Perhaps it was because he watched the progress of his the prince new port city every day, but the layout of this town seemed… messy. Aside from the main road, the side streets were crooked and lacked a clear plan, buildings blocked paths, and some "roads" weren't roads at all. He spotted a group pulling a cart that had run into people heading the opposite way. An argument broke out immediately.
Adrian passed them by, though he secretly wanted to see how it ended. A moment later, he heard groans and the sounds of a struggle. He snickered, the argument had clearly turned into a fight.
“It seems we’ll have plenty of entertainment even before the tourney begins.” Dexton remarked, and Adrian laughed.
As they reached the keep, however, the laughter died down and everyone adopted a serious expression.
A small group led by a steward waited by the giant doors. The man in charge was tall, his face marked by faded scars. Adrian was momentarily confused, the man wore the robes of a scholar, yet he looked like a hardened warrior.
“Lord Harrow, Baron of Harrowfield?” The man asked, seemingly recognizing the banner. His voice was gruff and deep, the voice of a veteran.
“I am... and you are?”
“Welcome.” the man said, bowing low. “I am Walt, the steward of the keep. The Earl welcomes you.”
“Thank you... were you once a soldier?” Adrian couldn't help but ask.
Walt smiled. “I was once a knight, until my body could no longer take the strain. I have been the steward here ever since.” He gestured toward the interior. “I will lead you to your quarters, while my people show your men to an appropriate place to stay. Come.”
Adrian nodded to the others before following the steward, with only Dexton trailing behind him.
“Are you familiar with the tournament process, Lord Harrow?” Walt asked.
“Not yet.”
“I will have someone instruct you on the details later, but generally, the festivities begin two days from now with a grand feast as the first day.” Walt explained as they turned a corner. Adrian’s gaze drifted, examining the keep's interior and admiring the craftsmanship.
“The second day is known as 'Knight’s Day.' Jousting will be held in the morning, followed by the melee in the afternoon.”
Adrian listened closely as the schedule was laid out. The tournament would span seven days in total. The first day was dedicated to the grand feast, welcoming the guests and officially announcing the start of the tournament.
The second day, Knight’s Day, would feature both jousting and the melee. Since Adrian planned to participate in both, he made sure to ask for specifics. The jousting would take place in the morning with several tilts occurring simultaneously in the town's main arena. The melee, having the most participants, would be split across six smaller arenas. Each arena would host ten fighters, the last man standing in each would advance to the finals on the fourth day.
The third day would feature the archery competition in the morning, followed by a horse race in the afternoon, and a wrestling competition for the common folk to end the day.
The fourth day was reserved for the finals of both the joust and the melee. The fifth day would be a day of rest, allowing competitors to heal before the grand finale on the sixth day, a surprise challenge that would only be revealed during the end of the jousting and melee finals.
Apparently, the theme of the entire tourney was perseverance and determination. To have the participants pushed themselves over the limit as if they are facing a horde of monsters where one can’t rest nor retreat.
Theres also the seventh day, but that’s more celebration of the end of the tourney.
“It will be a unique challenge, Lord Harrow. Something to look forward to.” Walt said before gesturing toward a set of doors. “Here we are. Your knight may stay in the adjoining room.”
A servant opened the door and Adrian walked inside. The room was spacious, and he noted with a hint of irony that the bed looked even more comfortable than the one in his own castle.
“Settle yourself. Someone will call for you shortly to meet the Earl,” Walt instructed.
“Thank you.” Adrian nodded, inspecting the room. An odd look passed over Walt’s face before he bowed and took his leave.
Dexton headed to his quarters to change into something more comfortable, and Adrian did the same. Once they were settled, Dexton rejoined him. Adrian leaned against the window, looking out over the bustling town.
“Five thousand pounds for the joust, and four thousand for the melee... heh. What do you think, Dexton?”
Five thousand pounds was a staggering amount of coin, even for a lord. It represented years of earnings, even including his salary as Marshal of the port city. The archery and horse racing prizes were three thousand each, while the wrestling stood at one thousand.
“It is a king's ransom, milord.” Dexton said simply. Adrian smirked at the expression and knows here Dexton learned it.
“If you won, what would you do with that kind of money?” Though Adrian paid for all of Dexton's expenses, the knight would likely never see that much gold in his lifetime unless he did great actions and service.
“Hmm… perhaps start a small livestock farm?” Dexton offered, sounding unsure.
Adrian snorted. “Come now, is my knight not ambitious at all?”
“I never thought I’d even become a knight, milord. That was ambition enough.”
“Well, life is full of surprises. Perhaps you’ll save a high lord’s daughter and he'll offer her hand in marriage?”
Dexton looked at him incredulously for a beat before the room filled with their shared laughter.
Finally, their moment of respite was interrupted by a knock at the door. “Lord Harrow, the Earl is ready to meet with you.”
“Well… here we go.” Adrian sighed, his casual demeanor shifting into that of a noble.
‘It should be fine.’ He told himself. ‘I’ve met the Prince and gained his favor, and he outranks an Earl.’ He checked his reflection and then looked at Dexton. Finding them both presentable, he nodded and stepped out of the room.