He looked at Eric, who had reached the other end of the field. Eric had already replaced his lance with another practice one and was watching him with a faint smile.
He suddenly felt a pang of fear.
The spectators near Eric's end of the lists also faltered. Their raucous cheers died down; it seemed today's tournament had just gotten interesting.
"Are you ready?" This time, it was Eric who shouted the words.
The irony was palpable.
The middle-aged Knight didn't respond. He just flicked his reins, guiding his Warhorse to the other end.
He hadn't been unhorsed, so he still had one more chance.
This time, he didn't wait for the herald's horn and trumpet call, charging straight for Eric.
Eric, unperturbed, charged forward as well.
This time, however, the middle-aged Knight felt his mount slow beneath him. He cursed and spurred it on, but the Warhorse's speed continued to drop.
