Throughout a millennium of history, no event has stirred as much excitement as the Royal Tournament. Held in the grand Lion's Ring, the arena resounded with the clamor of voices. The humble origins of the spectators did not hinder their exuberant cheers, which drowned out the panting of warhorses and the clash of lances. Hooves thundered against the ground, shields collided with lances, and knights, dripping with sweat, displayed their prowess and honor. The scent of roasting meat and the tang of cheap apple cider mingled with the sweat and earthy smells, creating an atmosphere that was distinctly the Royal Tournament.
This grand celebration is one of the few occasions in Bretonnian life where the peasantry can relax, revel, and partake in a noble event. The Lady of the Lake, from the founding of Bretonnia, issued a divine decree allowing peasants to participate in this highest of festivities. For them, it is a rare moment of joy amid a life of endless toil and monotony. The knights, mounted on their warhorses, enter the arena to compete for the highest honor. Every time the lances cross in the hot air, the crowd erupts in waves of cheers, each hoping their favored knight will claim victory.
Such is the Royal Tournament.
As old as the Kingdom of Bretonnia itself, the Royal Tournament has a history spanning a thousand years. It was initially conceived as a way for knights to maintain their combat readiness and sense of honor during times of peace. However, the tournament quickly became a platform for obscure and underappreciated knights to showcase their skills, turning it into the kingdom's most popular event, eventually evolving into the Royal Tournament we know today.
Though the tournament has never lost its appeal, the number of Royal Tournaments has dwindled since the Dol Tower Incident. In fact, nearly two decades have passed since the last Royal Tournament. It wasn't that the kings didn't want to hold it, but after the Dol Tower Incident, Bretonnia's decline and the kingdom's weakening finances couldn't support such a large-scale event.
However, unlike the frugal finances of Richard, Ryan is wealthy—truly wealthy. The new king put forth a substantial sum of thirty thousand gold crowns, supplemented by additional funds from the Lady of the Lake's church, making the event possible.
In history, many notable Royal Tournaments have taken place. When the Duchy of Artois still existed, the Duke held a tournament to find a suitor for his only daughter, offering the duchy as a prize. Hundreds of knights fought fiercely for the chance to marry the duke's daughter.
King Jules, known as "The Just," once hosted a Royal Tournament in the Duchy of Winford. He famously defeated a Wood Elf prince, forcing the elves to relinquish a contested territory, where the Bretonnians later built a new Grail Chapel.
This year's Royal Tournament is particularly grand. Hundreds of chefs have been gathered, and an array of fine wines and dishes are continuously served. The Lady of the Lake, King Ryan, Queen Sulia, and the Fey Enchantress Morgiana all sit in the royal box, with the dazzling golden Grail prominently displayed before them. Hundreds of Bretonnian knights are filled with excitement and frenzy—this is their chance to prove themselves before the Lady. Victory could mean the greatest reward of all: the Grail itself.
"My Lady, are you truly offering the Grail as a prize?" Ryan asked, seated beside the Lady of the Lake. Queen Sulia sat to his right, and Morgiana to the Lady's left. Behind them stood Olyka and Sylvia, while Veronica, refusing to be left out, had pulled up a chair to squeeze into the royal box. Ryan could only tolerate her insistence.
Teresa, less bold than Veronica, chose to sit in the guest section with Aurora.
"If there are feats worthy of note, why not?" The Lady of the Lake replied, sitting gracefully in her high-backed chair, her legs elegantly crossed. She chuckled lightly at Ryan's question, "Sometimes, giving the knights an incentive is good. But the Grail will not be easily won. Whether the knights can earn my favor depends on their own merits."
It was clear the Lady of the Lake was in high spirits, her pale blue heels tapping lightly on the wooden floor as she spoke with amusement. "Besides, neither the Imperials nor the Southerners can best our Bretonnian knights. And if the Wood Elves win, they'll only walk away with a golden cup, unless... the champion happens to be a knight from Tilea?"
The Lady's remark made Ryan, Sulia, and Morgiana laugh, leaving only Veronica confused.
Today, the Garland Witch was dressed in her finest, proud of having reached the pinnacle of human society. Knowing she had to be part of the conversation to truly belong, Veronica asked, "Could you explain, Ryan? Sister Sulia?"
"Tilean knights have won the Royal Tournament three times before," Ryan explained with a wry smile. "But none of those victories were honorable."
Indeed, knights from the Kingdom of Tilea had won the Royal Tournament three times, but their actions had left a bad taste in Bretonnian mouths. From the Lady of the Lake to the peasants, everyone despised the Tilean knights. Even the peasants could curse these rogue knights without fear of reprimand from their lords; in fact, they might even be rewarded with a mug of ale and a piece of roast meat.
The first time Tilean rogue knights won the Royal Tournament was over six hundred years ago, during the reign of the third King of Knights, Guillaume "The White Death." In that tournament, a group of Tilean knights joined and, during the jousting, decisively defeated the Bretonnian knights, arrogantly claiming the prize, leaving everyone stunned.
It was only after the event that the Bretonnians discovered that the rogue knights' lances were about thirty centimeters longer than the standard issue! With such an advantage, it was no wonder the Bretonnian knights couldn't win the jousting match!
The second time, the Tilean rogue knights won the tournament's final duel. After several rounds, the Bretonnian knight suddenly convulsed, foaming at the mouth, and was unhorsed, allowing the Tilean to take the prize. They vehemently denied any accusations of poisoning their weapons, instead suggesting the Bretonnian knight might have been unwell and should visit a Shallyan infirmary.
The third time, when the Tilean rogue knights entered the tournament again, the Bretonnians had grown wiser. They inspected the Tilean weapons and set strict rules. As the knights prepared to enter the arena, a Tilean noblewoman rushed out of the crowd and gave the Bretonnian knight an enthusiastic kiss. Out of chivalry and vanity, the knight didn't refuse.
Shortly after the match began, the Bretonnian knight's face turned pale, his mind clouded. He was easily defeated and later died from the poisoning. The Bretonnians, defeated, were forced to withdraw their forces from an ongoing campaign against Tilea.
Again, the Tileans vehemently denied the noblewoman had used poison, insisting the knight must have been unaccustomed to the local climate.
"You can't trust an Imperial, unless the other person is a Tilean."
—Bretonnian Proverb
"So Tileans are that shameless," Veronica remarked, at a loss for words. Indeed, Tileans had little respect for contracts or honor. They thrived on cunning and deceit, and due to Tilea's chaotic political landscape and lack of unity, local courts and palaces were deeply mired in local protectionism and populism. Reason often failed, and local court rulings were rarely just, easily swayed by populist forces. To win elections for city-state prince, nobles often made reckless promises, leading to near-permanent chaos in Tilea, barring external threats.
"Is Teresa really unwilling to join us?" Ryan asked, concerned about the sorceress.
"Teresa said she wanted to stay with Aurora," Sulia replied, shaking her head. The knightly queen, adorned with her crown and jewels, was stunningly beautiful. "She said she didn't want to make an exception."
"Hmph, such a rigid and proud little princess. Opportunities like this are rare in a lifetime," Veronica sneered immediately. "How many chances does a sorceress have to sit with the King of Knights and the Lady of the Lake to watch a tournament? Some things that seem impossible could be accomplished with a few words or a deal in this context. But if she keeps up this act, she'll..."
"Enough, Veronica, focus on the tournament," Ryan quickly interrupted, knowing Veronica was about to launch into her usual jabs at Teresa.
Ryan was vaguely aware of the brewing storm in his harem. None of the women were willing to submit to the others, and many things were best left unspoken. But in facing external challenges, they had reached a consensus. Ryan could only let things take their course. His primary responsibility was to solidify Sulia's authority as his wife; beyond that, he had little control.
Meanwhile, in the guest stands, Emperor Karl Franz and his entourage were also seated. Bretonnian knights, Imperial knights, and Wood Elf riders had entered the arena. The emperor, observing the grand spectacle, turned to Marius beside him and said, "I remember, many years ago, such knightly tournaments were introduced to the Empire."
"Indeed, many years ago," Elector Marius replied with disdain. "But unlike on the other side of the mountains, where the Lady of the Lake's church supervises and enforces discipline, in our Empire, these tournaments start with good intentions. But after a few events, or a dozen, no matter how noble the original intent, they devolve into arenas for noble heirs to bolster their credentials and showcase their family's wealth
. The winner is often decided before the tournament even begins. Except for your Royal Reiksguard Tournament, which you personally oversee to prevent cheating, the rest are as I described."
"Hah? Hahaha~" Marius's blunt description of the truth left the Empire's Elector Counts slightly embarrassed, leading to some awkward laughter as they tried to move on.
"No! Ulric would never allow such a thing to happen, Marius, you're talking nonsense!" Elector Boris, with his single eye glaring, protested.
As soon as the words left his mouth, an Imperial knight was unhorsed by a Bretonnian knight's lance, tumbling across the turf before passing out.
"FNNDP! Middenheim never hosts tournaments. You've always selected the purest bloodlines and the most battle-hardened among your own to join the Knights of the White Wolf. You think I don't know?" Elector Helmut, Grand Duke of Talabecland and Talabeheim, immediately retorted. "Nonsense, it's truly embarrassing."
"If you think you can do better, why don't you get in there?" Boris fired back. "Aren't you the one who claims his dark swordsmanship is top-notch?"
"Him? That's not dark swordsmanship; it's sluggish swordplay," Elector Valmir, Grand Duke of Ostland, quipped. "We all know Helmut's main combat prowess comes from his mount. His demi-gryph mount is far more capable than he is."
"Ahem, the weather has turned chilly these past few days. I'm not feeling well, so I'll sit this one out," Helmut coughed twice, making an excuse. "By the way, have you noticed? King Ryan, his retinue is all women, while our Emperor is surrounded by a bunch of smelly men. Too strange—I'm shocked! The new king must be very busy indulging in his harem, no?"
"Hahahahaha~" The Empire's guest section erupted in laughter as the emperor and the Elector Counts realized the observation was indeed accurate. Karl Franz even turned to Emilia and asked, "Emanoli, would you like to join them?"
"Why don't you go challenge Ryan to a duel, my Emperor?" Emilia replied irritably. "My Emperor, have you not noticed? The Imperial knights are almost all eliminated!"
The group, previously engrossed in their banter, suddenly realized that the Imperial knights were indeed being systematically unseated. Though it was expected that the Bretonnian knights would be stronger, it still hurt the Emperor's pride.
"Gentlemen, what do you think? If an Imperial wins the Royal Tournament, would the Lady of the Lake grant him the power of the Grail?" At this moment, Elector Marius spoke up. The Mad Count's face lit up as if he had found his next prey. "I can't wait to see the Lady of the Lake's reaction."
"Marius… you're planning to compete?" Karl Franz immediately caught onto Marius's intention.
"Why not?" Marius laughed. "Aside from the Grail Knights, I fear no one. Today, I'm going to test the mettle of the knights from the other side of the mountains!"
Without waiting for a response, the Elector Count of Averland, Grand Duke of Averland, and bearer of the Elector Sword, Mother of Destruction, drew his weapon. He sneered as he signaled his squire to bring forth his mount, the Imperial warhorse Daisy-Kurt von Herding II.
He was ready to personally enter the tournament.
Meanwhile, in Bretonnia's guest section, the dukes also noticed what was happening. François turned to Berchmond and said, "Look, the Mad Count of the Empire intends to compete. Our knights might not be able to match him."
"No! The glory of the Grail belongs only to us Bretonnians! We cannot allow an Imperial to win the Grail!" Berchmond reacted as if something deep within him had been triggered. "Not on my watch! Squire, to me!"
"No, Berchmond, you cannot compete!" Regent Lawn quickly intervened. "As Grail Knights, we already possess the power and glory of the Grail. By the chivalric code, we cannot enter the arena to reclaim what we already have. It wouldn't be in the spirit of knighthood!"
"Then what do we do?" Berchmond instinctively sought François's opinion.
"We send a duke—one who is not yet a Grail Knight," François replied calmly. "As for who…"
"Leave it to me!" Duke Bodrick of Bordeleaux, the Sea God Mannan's chosen champion, stood up. His eyes shone with fervor and devotion. The Grail he so desperately desired was within reach. "Let me face the Mad Count of the Empire!"
Without waiting for the others to agree, the ninety-something-year-old duke took up his Sea God Trident and prepared to enter the arena!
At the same time, in the Elven seating section, Teclis, leaning on the Moon Staff of Lileath, observed the unfolding events. With both the Empire and Bretonnia sending legendary lords to compete for the Grail, the Archmage turned to Araloth and asked, "Are the Asrai not planning to compete?"
"I am not suited to compete unless Ryan himself takes to the field," Araloth replied, his gaze fixed on the royal box where the Lady of the Lake sat, speaking and laughing with Ryan. The Wood Elf's chosen champion, wearing a stag antler helmet that emitted a radiant green light, grew more resolute. "But we will take the Grail and present it to Lileath… Estel!"
"Here!" A Wood Elf forest lord, his face painted with oils and resins, exuding wild power, stepped forward.
"Go claim victory in this tournament! Bring me that Grail!"
"Yes, my lord!"
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