The Tournament

Count Leopold was a young man with short curly hair, a red beard, and pale skin. He looked no older than thirty.

Today, he wore a crimson surcoat fastened with a golden belt. Servants carried his red cloak behind him, following closely as he approached the throne.

He stopped before his seat, resting a hand on the sword scabbard at his waist, inlaid with gold and ivory, which made him appear all the more noble and extraordinary.

Lothar sighed inwardly. Though they both held the title of count, if Count Werner stood beside Count Leopold—

Even if he wore every treasure he had brought back from the Holy Land, he would still look like a wealthy country bumpkin.

This era was not more developed the farther west one went.

On the contrary, both the Eastern Empire and the Egyptian Ayyubid Empire were regarded as lands of abundance.

Count Leopold of Vienna, who controlled the hub of overland trade between Western Europe and the Eastern Empire, clearly possessed considerable power.

Yet the one who followed Count Leopold onto the platform was not the Countess.

She was a mysterious woman wearing a brown hooded shawl and a magnificent scarlet gown, with only her fair chin exposed.

Someone below muttered, "They say this Lady is a Witch adviser hired by the count. Some claim they have seen her in His Majesty the Emperor's bedchamber."

Someone looked displeased. "A wanton woman like that can sit openly in a seat of honor higher than ours?"

"Keep your voice down. She's a Witch!"

"I heard that the count in charge of the Emperor's most trusted palace offended a Witch. That evil woman turned him into a rat on the spot with magic. In the end, the Emperor had to intervene before she changed the count back into a human."

Whispers filled the air.

Though they were grateful to Count Leopold for holding this grand gathering, people still resented his favoring of a Witch.

Prajna suddenly said, "Her aura feels familiar."

"Familiar?"

Lothar was startled.

As if sensing something, the woman on the platform swept her gaze over as soon as she sat down.

Lothar hurriedly lowered his head, a guess suddenly forming in his mind. "Do you mean the Giant Python we saw last night?"

"Yes."

Prajna nodded slightly. "She recognized me too, but she probably took me for another Witch. As long as we stay out of each other's way, there will be no trouble."

"Yes."

Lothar nodded, but he still felt uneasy inside.

Competing beneath the eyes of a lioness who might kill him at any moment left him uncomfortable all over, even knowing that she would not leap down and devour him.

Count Leopold raised a hand in a calming gesture, signaling everyone to quiet down.

Then, he traced a cross before himself and recited devoutly, "Knights, nobles, free men, praise the Heavenly Father!"

"For ever and ever, amen!"

The people answered devoutly.

Leopold said solemnly, "I thank you brave men for honoring me with your presence. The evil heathens from the East have endangered the Holy Land. As knights of the Heavenly Father, we must follow in the footsteps of our forebears, raise the banner of the Crusaders once more, and launch an eastern expedition."

"Yet I have reasons that prevent me from joining the expedition for now. I only wish to support more warriors loyal to the Heavenly Father. In this tournament, win or lose, all who are willing to join the eastern expedition will receive one hundred Dinars for their travel expenses."

"Now, knights, show us your valor. Aside from supporting the Crusaders, I also intend to select a personal knight. Not only will I grant Vienna Forest Mountain as his fief, but I will entrust him with other important duties."

The knights immediately erupted with excitement. Not only were they tempted, even some of the barons present looked eager to try.

Vienna Forest Mountain was a mountain town. Though it was nowhere near as prosperous as Vienna, it was still a town—a hen that laid golden eggs.

"Praise the Heavenly Father! Praise the great and generous Your Highness Leopold!"

Lothar sighed inwardly. What a lavish gesture. He was giving away a city fief just like that. Perhaps only the Margrave of the Marches of Austria, whose territory is still expanding, could afford such extravagance.

In all of Greater Germania, aside from him, even the Hohenstaufen family's Emperor could not possibly offer an entire city as the prize for a knightly tournament, could he?

Matches unfolded one after another.

Each contestant drew lots to determine their opponent. Winners advanced to the next round, while losers were eliminated immediately.

Lothar watched from the Grandstand for quite a while, and a thought could not help arising in his mind. Is that all?

The knights varied greatly in skill, but so far, Lothar had not encountered anyone who made him feel any real pressure.

He was somewhat surprised. Am I too strong, or are these knights too weak?

A servant acting as an announcer shouted, "The next match will be Lothar von Habsburg of Argao versus Avelardo Medici of Tuscany!"

Medici?

Was this not the illustrious family that would rule Florence for centuries in later generations?

Lothar's heart tightened. He immediately rose, had Ryan carry his equipment, and led his mount toward the field.

Lothar entered the field noticeably early.

He waited for quite some time before his opponent finally arrived.

He wore a blue surcoat emblazoned with white irises and rode a tall horse, frequently waving to the spectators on the Grandstand. Enthusiastic cheers rose all around him.

Clearly, the name Avelardo carried no small amount of fame.

Lothar, by comparison, was rather unknown.

"Habsburg? What family is that?"

"Argao? That backwater in Switzerland?"

"Don't talk nonsense. That count is quite formidable. Even His Majesty the Emperor favors him greatly and once invited him to serve as commander of the imperial army."

"What does that matter? Just because the father is formidable does not mean the son is too, much less a second son."

"Avelardo is a powerful knight named after the famous general Avelardo who once followed Charlemagne. He has swept through every tournament in Lombardy. If he were not so naturally unruly and unrestrained, he would have long since become the vassal of some prince or lord."

The buzzing discussions made Prajna frown slightly. "You are drawing conclusions far too soon. If fame determines victory or defeat, then the moment this Avelardo steps onto the field, everyone else may as well surrender."

"Hah, what would a woman know?"

Someone said disdainfully.

"To a knight, reputation represents strength."

He looked at Prajna with utter contempt.

Then his expression froze. Even with her Veil on, merely seeing Prajna's brows and eyes was enough to tell that she was an unparalleled beauty.

He immediately changed his tune. "Miss, you do have a point."

"I am Knight Mergen of Lorraine. Miss, are you interested in knightly tournaments? Would you like me to explain them to you in detail?"

Prajna refused bluntly, "No need."

Mergen still tried to press on. "Miss, I am also a very formidable knight. I once won second place in a knightly tournament hosted by the Duke of Lower Lorraine."

Prajna frowned. Her fingers tightened slightly around the railing, then relaxed, leaving a deep indentation in the wood with even her fingerprints clearly visible.

Mergen's face immediately turned deathly pale.

He had seen people snap or crush railings this thick, but he had never imagined that anyone could leave four clear finger marks in one.

"I-I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lady. Please forgive my presumption."

Prajna waved him away as though shooing off a fly.

Avelardo did not look arrogant, but his gaze was intensely aggressive.

He looked Lothar up and down like a wolf eyeing its prey.

"Your armor was made by a master craftsman from Milan, wasn't it? I do not recognize your heraldry, but I know that the armor crafted by that master is exceptionally fine."

"But unfortunately, it and your mount will soon belong to me."

Avelardo's silver-gray eyes were full of coldness and disdain. He had won the title of Champion Knight many times in knightly tournaments.

Clearly, he did not regard an unknown newcomer like Lothar as worthy of notice.

"Let us hope your skills are as hard as your mouth."

The corners of Lothar's lips curved upward in a mocking smile—he knew that Avelardo was proud, and that this tone and expression would provoke him most effectively.

And anger led to lost reason.

Yet the knight opposite him remained calm and cold-eyed.

The two emotions blended perfectly, entirely unaffected by Lothar. Confident yet cautious—this was quite a formidable opponent!

He took a lance and shield from his squire, put on his helmet, and said, "Let us begin quickly. Once I defeat you, I still need to dedicate this insignificant honor to a Lady here to witness it."

With that, he lowered his visor.

Lothar donned his Bucket Helm, raised his lance and kite shield, instructed Ryan to prepare replacement lances, then urged his warhorse forward at a trot.

Avelardo was the first to increase his horse's speed and launch his charge.

He used his shield to protect the weak points of his armor, while the lance in his hand trembled slightly from side to side. Even during the charge, he keenly observed Lothar's weaknesses.

Crack—

Accompanied by a burst of splintering.

Both lances struck the other's shield at the same time.

Lothar felt an immense force crash into him, and he was thrown directly from his horse.

His opponent did not fare much better. The two of them fell from their mounts simultaneously.

But falling from one's horse did not mean the battle was over.

Avelardo immediately tried to remount, while Lothar did the exact opposite, drawing the arming sword from his waist and lunging toward Avelardo.

In horsemanship, he was no match for his opponent.

But in strength, he surpassed him.

Against an enemy like this, he had to play to his strengths and avoid his weaknesses.

Slash—

Lothar's arming sword cut a gash through his opponent's surcoat, then caught in the links of his armor and could go no farther.

In films and television, armor was often as fragile as thin paper.

But in a real fight, one learned that a knight clad in fine armor was practically an indestructible heavy tank.

Avelardo had no choice but to abandon his attempt to remount and drew his hand-and-a-half sword to face Lothar.

The two exchanged more than ten bouts, sparks flying from their blades, but they were evenly matched and neither could do anything to the other.

Leopold watched with growing interest and ordered his attendants to separate them. "Both of you have performed exceptionally. There is no need to determine victory and defeat now. Advance together, and settle the matter in the later finals."

The two could only stop and retreat from the field.

Lothar removed his Bucket Helm and mail coif, letting out a long breath. Ryan immediately handed him a clay jug filled with water, and he drank deeply from it.

Moder said respectfully, "My lord, this Knight Avelardo is very formidable. You are still young. It would be best not to fight him head-on."

Lothar nodded.

"Do not worry. I know what I am doing. If I cannot beat him, I will surrender without hesitation."

Moder and Ryan's fortunes were tied to his, so naturally they did not want him risking his life against an opponent in the tournament grounds.

He walked over to Prajna and asked quietly, "Is it too boring?"

Prajna nodded lightly. "A little."

From Prajna's perspective, watching a knightly tournament was like watching ants fight.

"Wait here."

Under her puzzled gaze, Lothar walked straight to a nearby long table laden with all manner of food, then returned leisurely a moment later.

Prajna suddenly felt something pressed into her palm. Looking down, she found a handful of hazelnuts.

Lothar explained, "Have some. Think of them as a way to pass the time."

Strictly speaking, Prajna was not human.

But she could eat human food. It made no difference to her whether she ate much or little.

She did not need to replenish energy through such a primitive method as eating.

Prajna did not refuse. She shelled a hazelnut, placed the kernel in her mouth, and nodded slightly. "Not bad. Go rest. There will be other opponents later, and you need to preserve your strength."

"Alright."

Lothar nodded.