The Tournament Begins

Lienz City was bustling.

At the very least, it was bustling today.

The taverns, weapon shops, and smithies were packed to the brim. Knights, nobles, Noble Ladies, and even more servants, bearing all manner of banners and dressed in dazzling colors, filled the little city.

Lothar's group temporarily settled into an inn.

Moder crouched before the fireplace, drying everyone's clothes soaked by the unending drizzle.

Ryan had completed his task perfectly. He brought back the lances and shields Lothar and Hans needed, then supervised the smithy's workers in the backyard as they shod the two newly acquired Hungarian horses.

Lothar held a steaming bowl of oatmeal porridge and took small sips.

Hans wiped down the lance he had just received, his expression visibly tense.

Like Lothar, he had previously only been a squire and had never truly set foot on a battlefield.

So, although his martial skill was already quite good judging by his attributes, it had yet to be tested, leaving him somewhat lacking in confidence.

The exact time of the tournament had not been announced, but by afternoon, nearly everyone in the city began streaming toward the Hunting Ground beyond the city walls. Naturally, they knew the tournament was about to begin.

The Hunting Ground was for the lord's private use.

Hunting without permission was a crime, with penalties ranging from light to severe. Strict lords might even execute peasants caught poaching.

To many lords, commoners were livestock fit only to eat grain; only meat-eaters like nobles deserved to be called human.

Lothar's group followed the crowd all the way to the Hunting Ground.

The place was already packed.

At the very center of the Hunting Ground, wooden stands had been built around the jousting field, possessing a grandeur that somewhat resembled an Ancient Empire gladiatorial arena.

Count Leopold's seat was at the very top.

From left to right, the eagle-emblazoned shield of the Greater Germania Empire and the red-and-white shield of the Babenberg family hung there.

Tiered stands extended around both sides, descending from above.

In the Middle Ages, when most tournament grounds were still crude, this was practically the equivalent of a modern large stadium capable of holding tens of thousands.

Lothar sighed. "Count Leopold is an ambitious man as well."

"I heard Count Leopold also intends to join this round of the Crusades. However, out of consideration for His Majesty the Emperor's dignity, he is still only making preparations for now."

In previous years, the Emperor and the Pope had been locked in a fierce struggle.

The conflict between imperial power and religious authority had nearly reached its boiling point. The Emperor coveted the immense wealth of the clergy and sought to curb their influence.

The Pope would have loved nothing more than to rally a group of Vassal Lords loyal to Divine Authority and wage war against the Hohenstaufen family.

Although war never broke out due to various reasons, the Pope still excommunicated the Emperor.

Even though both sides now showed signs of easing tensions, before the Pope restored the Emperor's communion, some small and mid-sized feudal lords still dared not make decisions on their own.

Greater Germania might have been loose-knit, but the Emperor still possessed authority.

After all, as head of the Hohenstaufen family, Emperor Henry controlled Swabia, one of the Empire's original four great states—Swabia, Saxony, Franconia, and Bavaria—and his power was formidable.

The Emperor was both the Imperial Emperor and the most powerful feudal lord within the Empire.

Of course, strictly speaking, Bohemia was the strongest state within the Empire. However, Bohemia was chiefly inhabited by Slavs and had always remained outside the Empire's center of power.

The reason Lothar called Count Leopold ambitious was evident from the scale of the tournament he was hosting.

In truth, most knightly tournaments offered no prizes.

The champion gained fame and honor, which was the greatest reward.

The victor of each match could, just as in a real war, demand ransom from the defeated party or claim their armor and horse as spoils.

Thus, holding a knightly tournament was often an inexpensive undertaking for a lord.

Knights could also display their personal prowess, whether to attract a lord's attention and rise from a landless knight into a landed knight.

Or to earn a reputation, become famous, and then sell their services at a good price. Both were worthwhile pursuits.

It could be said that knightly tournaments were massive job fairs, grand events nearly every knight had attended.

Unfortunately, Lothar's father, Count Werner of Argao, was simply too poor.

He could not support any additional knights, so he had never considered holding a tournament to recruit them.

Thus, until now, Lothar had never truly taken part in this entertainment so beloved by the noble knights of the Middle Ages.

Of course, knightly tournaments were also extremely dangerous.

Few tournaments passed without casualties.

Even when using easily broken white beech lances and swords with rounded blunt tips, real fighting could still easily lead to deaths, injuries, and lifelong disability.

This was especially true for impoverished knights whose families had fallen into decline, leaving them with only a single ancestral suit of armor that could practically be called an antique.

Often, in a single exchange, an opponent would find the weak point in their armor and strike a fatal blow.

Yet they still flocked to such events, hoping a liege lord would take notice and recruit them as landed knights.

Moder said eagerly, "My lord, I heard squires who fight on foot, like us, can participate in the tournament too."

Lothar shook his head. "Best not. Only knights can kill knights. If you accidentally kill one, you may very well have to pay with your life."

Those words immediately doused Moder's enthusiasm.

At that moment, melodious singing rose from the crowd.

Bards from northern Albion cradled Lutes, singing and dancing as they played.

These Celts who lived on the island seemed born to sing and dance. They performed famous songs that had endured through the ages.

Occasionally, they would improvise as well.

One bard spotted Prajna in her veil, and his eyes lit up. Strumming his Lute, he began dancing beside them. "Ah, black-haired beauty from the East, walking beside our valiant knight—"

As he sang, he wore a flattering smile and held out his hand toward Lothar.

Lothar smiled helplessly and signaled for Ryan to place some coins in the man's palm.

Prajna watched the scene expressionlessly. She was a master at controlling her expressions; judging from her eyes alone, not the slightest ripple of emotion could be seen.

A huge long table was piled with delicacies: roasted pheasant, peacock, even swan, all kinds of game, and large bottles of fine wine, available for the guests to take freely.

It looked remarkably like a modern buffet.

Some knights and their companions had already drunk themselves senseless. They ran beneath the stands and danced wildly to the bards' songs.

Below the count's stand, at the center of the jousting field, stood a long barrier surrounded by simple wooden fencing.

When the tournament began, the knights would enter from opposite sides of the barrier and then compete, preventing their warhorses from colliding and suffering irreparable injuries.

Quite a few Noble Ladies had already arrived in the stands.

They whispered among themselves as they appraised the knights appearing on the field.

Some Noble Ladies made no effort to hide their favor toward certain knights, tossing them coquettish glances and flower garlands.

Many noble couples joined through political marriages placed few restraints upon one another, allowing both parties to behave as freely as they pleased despite already being wed.

If these Noble Ladies took a liking to a knight, it was said they would not only take him as a lover, but also provide funds for him to purchase equipment, perhaps even becoming long-term lovers.

Ahead of them, a knight with painted bird feathers atop his head, like a peacock desperately spreading its tail to court a mate, waved toward the stands.

He was handsome and fair-skinned, instantly drawing shrieks from a large number of Noble Ladies.

Competing in the tournament to win the favor of the noblewomen and young ladies in the stands, thereby gaining sponsorship or even living off them for free, was likewise one of the knights' pursuits.

Lothar keenly noticed a knight in old armor exchange a glance with a young lady in the stands.

The young lady's eyes were full of worry, while the knight's face was resolute.

Clearly, this was a love story between a down-and-out knight and a noble young lady.

If the knight could win the tournament or distinguish himself enough to gain favor, he would have hope of becoming a suitable match and marrying the noble young lady.

But Lothar did not think his chances were very great.

A fine suit of armor could allow a knight like Lothar to fight one against ten against Magyar nomad cavalry.

Armor and no armor, fine armor and old armor—these were entirely different matters.

"Tournaments in this era really are interesting."

Lothar remarked.

"Hans, have you taken part in anything similar?"

Hans shook his head. "The tournaments of our era had already become social performances. Knights dressed themselves up like pheasants and did not need to fight at all."

His eyes were dazzled by the scene, and his heart surged with excitement. He had already begun imagining himself easily defeating his enemies in such a setting and winning thunderous applause.

"Look, the count has arrived!"

Someone shouted excitedly.

The crowd immediately erupted.

In this age lacking entertainment.

They were deeply grateful to the generous count for spending such a large sum to let them enjoy such a lively spectacle.