Your new personal knight is an orc, of all things.
You didnât know thatâs what he was at the time, but in retrospect, you suppose it shouldâve been obvious.
Today, a special tournament organized to replace your (recently retired) personal knight is being held. Despite being an adult, your family still insists you need a glorified babysitter.
He sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the other knights in attendance- both by at least a full headâs height, and the stark lack of coat of arms displayed on his blackened armor. The fact that he hasnât removed his helmet once during the event only adds to his mysterious presence.
Rather than the typical method of entry, he was invited to the melee for winning an open challenge-at-arms the previous day- a tradition your family continues to observe, since it seems to appease the common folk.Â
âI heard that he fell three men with one swing yesterday.â You say, interest piqued. You wouldâve liked to attend that event rather than the dull, almost ceremonial jousting matches you watched yesterday.
Your father hums in acknowledgement, but offers no other opinion.
âMartial prowess isnât the only quality that a good knight must possess, dear.â Your mother attempts to smother your passion. âThereâs other things to consider in a retainer; courtesy, noble manners, good breeding⌠And oh look, Ser Dubois is riding in-â
Youâve already tuned out her lecture as you usually do, utterly enamored with the newcomer.
The melee starts- and it doesnât take long to see a lead forming.
Itâs an absolute bloodbath.
Well- not literally- since the weapons are purposefully blunted. The idea is to recruit some of the runner-ups into your familyâs lower guard ranks, after all, so any permanent damage would be detrimental to that goal.
But watching this new fighter is a spectacle all the same. He is a twister of metallic carnage.
Watching combat usually gets your blood pumping, though the typical faire at these events is far too mild for your liking, all pomp and posturing. But he has a raw, visceral power to his blows. For once, you are at the edge of your seat.
Man after man crumples to a heap of armor at his feet. After the initial onslaught dies off, he doggedly hunts down all the stragglers, one by one.
Finally, itâs just him and one other. The other man left standing- as luck would have it- is your parentsâ favorite to win.
The noble is frozen in place as the hulking figure approaches, zweihander raised. If it wasnât for the volume of the crowd of spectators, you could probably hear the metal of his poleyns knocking together.
Youâve certainly never seen a competitor forfeit by vaulting over the wooden fence into the crowd before.Â
You canât help but let out an unbecoming guffaw at the sight: the knight in flashy, gaudy colors fleeing with tail between his legs, and the knight in black simply lowering his sword and looking around in bewilderment.
âSecond sons,â Your mother seethes through the erupting boom of cheers and jeers below you, pulling out her hand fan to cool her frustration. âIâll have to have a word with his mother-â
Your father clears his throat loudly, and your motherâs words drop off abruptly, the fan falling out of her hand. You glance back down to see the source of their sudden surprise.
The knight has pulled his horned helmet off, revealing moss green skin and two ivory tusks protruding under his imperial-styled moustache.
An orc in the royal guard is going to be a first.
