The World Dragon's Heir

Chapter 649: Sir Charles The Showman

With two rounds of eliminations finished, the afternoon crowd in the arena had exceedingly high hopes for the next matches.

Their pool of contestants had been whittled down to a mere twenty-four knights now, only twelve matches.

Unless someone was injured and there was a delay, that would be over and finished in time to get home for dinner.

Perfect for the farmers who were contemplating whether to leave early.

Dominic sat with Alexis, her family and the Advisors in the royal booth as if nothing strange had happened today, and nobody had tried to poison them.

He had the reports already, and the mages were interrogating the one prisoner they had captured. Unfortunately, it seemed that she was just a hired patsy from Dagos who held a grudge for the loss of her husband in combat.

They had told her just enough to get the job done and provided the poison, but forgot to tell her it was supposed to be diluted and spritzed in the food.

The amount she had used was twenty times too much.

Curiously, the toxin was one that didn’t specifically target mages or paladins. It didn’t restrict the use of magical items as many specialty poisons did, and was intended to be used to cause a natural-looking death or sudden illness.

Done properly, survivors might not even know they had been poisoned. But that was not the sort of toxin that would normally have been appropriate for an attempt like this one.

Dominic read the report as the knights worked their way through the matches.

The knight who had eliminated Potato was eliminated in turn by Prince Damien, due to the nature of their joust order.

And now they were starting to see the true power of the elite knights.

Most had held back in the early rounds to avoid giving away any tricks and countermeasures they had been practicing.

The Knights who made their livings and reputations in the tournaments often fought against each other for the final few spots. So for the top tier of the regular circuit, adapting to the tactics of your rivals was a full-time job.

You did it, or you were eliminated from the rankings.

And then for the first time in the tournament, they came to a perfect draw between a knight from West Keria and Sir Korath of Mitfield.

“The match will be held for two courses, to be the last tilt of the day. The format will be sudden elimination, the first to win a round will be the victor.” The referee announced.

The practice had originally been for the horses, but after five solid hits, it didn’t matter how good your armour was, the knights needed a break.

The next up was one of the favourites to win, Sir Charles Whitbury, who was developing quite the fan club here in Wistover, thanks to his flamboyant style.

As usual, he stopped to encourage the crowd during his entrance, and this time he was in the far lane, with even more time to get the crowd worked up.

“He’s got the header of a showman, he does. You would think he would have started running a carnival or something, but somehow he ended up as a tournament knight,” Prince Claudius muttered.

“You’re not wrong. Perhaps it’s just that the life of a carnival operator isn’t dignified enough for a man with a knighthood?

Who knows, he might start a theatre troupe at some point, put his skills to good use in a way that suits his station.” Alexis joked.

Old Jack Merlot smiled. “Or, we could offer his a job here as director of events at the arena. It’s fit for a knight, and he clearly loves the work.”

The prince laughed at the old drunkard’s enthusiasm. “You know, he might actually take the job. He’s been twenty years in the circuit, and he’s doing well this week, but that won’t last forever.

Another five or ten years and the lingering wounds will have him out of the saddle more than he’s in it.

If I had to guess, he’s doing hours best to build a reputation and retirement fund while he can and then he will step aside.

If you can get him before that, you might land a real gem.”

Dominic considered their words carefully. They did need someone with those skills to arrange events for the arena, and the title could be elevated to that of an advisor, with pay to match.

The arena manager would make that much or more if the facility was privately owned.

“Alright, I will have one of my lovely advisors draw up a contract, and we can talk to him about it either tonight or tomorrow.

What do you say we invite the final twelve for dinner tonight?

That’s enough for a proper gathering, and if we wait another day the mood will be spoiled. Nobody wants to attend a celebratory dinner after they’ve lost,” Dominic suggested.

“Not a bad idea at all. Be sure to invite all of Prince Damien’s Paladins, even if they’ve lost. They’re still his Royal escort, and it would be rude to give some a lower status.

Especially when they will soon be Dukes, and some will have territories bordering Stansia province.” Jack Merlot added.

“Thank you for volunteering.”

“Me and my big mouth. I know the drink would get me in trouble one day, but I never expected it to earn me more work.”

Dominic smiled at the aging soldier. “You are proof positive that once you’ve practiced it enough, you can master the art of anything.

And it turns out that is true of speaking your mind as well.”

“I will take it as a compliment, then.”

Sir Charles made his first pass down the lane, and wood splintered with a pair of solid hits. There was no telling how this match was going to end, as his opponent from Shersdonia was no soft target, but Charles wasn’t letting that get in the way of his show.

In the third Lance, he finally saw the advantage, when a hit to the chest slid across his armour without breaking.

And that was all it took.

The final two passes saw both lances break, and Sir Charles moved on to the final day.