8 Horseplay
HORSEPLAY
THE NEXT MORNING, I ate my breakfast utilizing a skill I’d honed over a decade of warfare and sixteen years of education before that.
I was paying attention to my own thoughts, but tuned in to the discussion around me enough to be able to repeat what was said during the previous moments.
The Royal Commonwealth notables were discussing the day’s activities, some silly tournament of arms, dinner, and a theatrical production.
I could not care less. My mind was on Astrid—no, the Emperor, and how she’d treated me the night before.
What the Fall was that? I thought I’d broken through to the Astrid I’d known on the dance floor.
She’d shown her old self to me in public, but then when she brought me to her private chambers for a personal rendezvous, she acted formal.
Frigid, even. I knew it was twelve years ago, but my heart still yearned for hers.
I’d had relations, sure, but nothing that could seriously replace the romance we’d shared.
I’d been open with her in a way I had never been with anyone else before or since.
Everyone else had wanted a version of me – a cavalry officer, a supply depot manager, a decent marriage prospect and future father, but never fully Levar.
Only Astrid had wanted the real me. Perhaps as Emperor, she had plenty of suitors willing to love her the way I had.
Perhaps the war had not hit her as hard as it had hit me.
It was my selective listening skill which saved me when the Duke of Lynwyzc said my name.
“Yes, sir? Your Highness?” I asked, snapping out of my reverie.
“I’ve signed you up for the joust. You’re a combat soldier, and your hoversteed should work fine in mock combat.”
I rewound the conversation in my mind. Yes, there was a tournament of arms, and much like the race the day before, there were multiple events. Sharpshooting, fencing, and mounted combat.
“Your Highness, I would like to remind you I am not a frontline soldier. I’m a supply officer. My experience is limited at best…”
“Were you not on the Royal Colonial Academy’s tournament team?” Boleslaw asked.
I coughed. “I spent more of my school days playing battle-ball. Besides, that was years ago. I’m sorely out of practice.”
“Didn’t you kill two demon princes with a greatsword?” Boleslaw said, cutting me off. “Your file has two confirmed kills with several more suspect. That hardly seems out of practice to me.”
I could feel my face flushing. “When one is attacked, one does what one must.”
“Well, do the same today and you’ll be fine,” Prince Aureli said. Boleslaw smiled kindly at me, and my heart sank.
“If you’ll excuse me, sir, I think I’d better go prepare my hoversteed.” I was dismissed, and I quickly walked away, trailed by Wiktor.
“We have a problem,” I whispered. “I don’t have a jousting outfit.”
“I’m certain we can find something suitable amongst your garments.” He sounded so very confident with that assuring whisper. It made me believe him. He really was an excellent servant.
We settled on a combination of my dress tunic and undress trousers.
The tunic was emerald-green, trimmed with gold lace and lined with sable fur which went well against my khaki trousers and tall brown riding boots.
“It will have to do,” Wiktor said with resignation.
“Had I known you were going to ride in a tournament, I would have ordered you a proper jousting suit.”
“Had I known I’d be riding joust, I’d have asked for one.” A horrible thought struck me. “The Empire will provide suitable tournament lances, won’t they? We’re not expected to duel with zeroblades…?”
Wiktor’s face looked grim, and I swallowed. “Let’s see if we have time to install an upgrade before the tournament.”
I told Tilly my concerns while I installed the fancy new Royal Guards Armory tractorgrip generator, but she wasn’t bothered by the idea of fighting with zeroblades.
She’d fought zeroblade-armed demon warriors with me on her back before, and we’d always won.
She was certain today would be the same. I wasn’t so sure.
I took Tilly out to test the tractorgrip.
It was a risk, letting my competitors see how I maneuvered, but jousting with unfamiliar equipment was more dangerous still.
The royal mechanics knew their craft – Tilly’s grip was unparalleled.
If I remained near a solid surface, I could make her pivot so fast I would black out.
I hoped it would be useful in the coming combat.
I had just enough time to change into my ersatz jousting uniform before I was due at the Parade of Arms. For all that my own outfit was thrown together, it didn’t look as out of place as I’d feared.
The other Commonwealth combatants also wore fine dress tunics, but we were easily outshone by the Despotate uniforms so festooned with gold lace and cord that I had to look at them askance to avoid the reflected glare.
Fortunately, even the relatively simple Commonwealth uniforms looked elegant and sophisticated compared to the Federation nobles in their double-breasted silk jackets and short top hats which clashed horribly with their leather chopper trousers.
However, to say we were all overdressed compared to our Imperial hosts would be to overlook the fact that they were hardly dressed at all.
Their muscles twitched and strained against the leather straps and loincloths they deemed appropriate jousting attire, accented by decorative metal plates and war paint in intricate angular patterns.
Astrid had once described to me what each pattern meant in detail, but without visuals, I’d never fully absorbed the translation.
Probably the only group who looked like they belonged on the field was the League delegation, crisp and clean in old-fashioned white breeches and polished cuirasses. I saw Darius atop a hoversteed, and he winked when he caught my eye. My stomach dropped at the thought of facing him in combat.
Arrayed before the Imperial box in the coliseum, we awaited the Emperor’s pleasure. She arrived with a fanfare of horns, resplendent as always in a black gown and platinum crown, and she waved graciously to the crowd. When she waved to us, we all bowed and lowered our weapons in respect.
“Warriors of all nations, welcome to our tournament of arms. We hope you shall fight well and bring credit to your realm.”
Her statement was greeted with polite applause, and she raised her hands for silence so she could continue.
“Out of respect for our more genteel guests, we have decided to forgo the Imperial custom of competing with live weapons. Tournament arms shall be provided, and Allied tournament rules shall apply.”
I felt an immense wash of relief. Tournament weapons would hurt as they shocked through the shield, but I would live to see the dusk.
I glanced at the Imperial contestants and noted they seemed displeased by this turn of events.
They refrained from protesting or shifting uncomfortably, but several younger demon lords showed small scowls.
From what I remembered Astrid telling me, Imperial tourneys were usually a bloodbath.
On average, one in six Imperial contests proved lethal, and the rest were fought until one combatant could fight no more, to be taken off to be healed.
Dismemberments were common, and if all the contestants survived, it was considered a dull day.
They could be as bored as they wanted. I preferred a boring existence over a glorious death.
The greater part of participating in any tournament involved waiting.
Tilly and I waited for the fencers to finish the qualifiers, then the martial artists.
We waited to see who we would be matched against in the official brackets while the sharpshooters blasted their targets into atoms, and then we waited for the many, many other jousters to compete before we could head to the arena.
Compared to yesterday, the Commonwealth officers showed rather well, dismounting combatants from the Federation, Despotate, League, and the Empire, but we were not uniformly successful.
Marshal Gediminas was unseated by the massive demon Count Gerasimov wielding an equally massive greastsword, and General Ostrogski had the misfortune to match up against Archduke Darius, who laid the general on the ground with his first pass.
When my round came, I did not recognize the name of my opponent, a Lord Gretsky, but I hoped he was from the Urgan Despotate.
They had won but a single match, and only when their Federation opponent had forgotten they were only half a yard off the ground, and were scraped off their steed when they tried to roll inverted.
The gates opened, and I nudged Tilly’s flanks with my heels.
We glided into the bright arena to the sound of my name being read over a loudspeaker, and a few people clapped.
Colonel Boleslaw and Prince Aureli applauded politely, as did Lady d’Lyre at his side.
I caught sight of Princess Marie-Christina in a private box.
She smiled charmingly and waved, then resumed clapping.
I wished I’d been given time to properly prepare for the tournament.
I would have brought a flower to give to a fair maiden, like I’d seen the popular boys do at the Academy tournaments.
Crowds loved that sort of thing, and I definitely would have given it to the princess.
In her derby outfit, she certainly looked the part.
And maybe it would have made the Emperor a little bit jealous.
I settled for blowing Princess Marie a kiss, hoping it would have the same effect. Now all I lacked to complete the tableau was a fearsome ogre of an opponent. Lucky for me, the tournament had provided one.