Trogar scowled as the young squire fumbled with the straps to his leather breastplate. Unlike his brothers, he did not have a permanent squire to assist him. He just didn't spend that much time in the practice yard or on campaign. However, today was the melee tournament, and he wanted to participate. After the setback with Lyriena, he needed a way to assert his dominance again.
Unlike the other Kingdoms, which favored chaotic free- for-alls, Zentaran melee tournaments were a series of duels, with the winner of each duel advancing in the competition to face other victors, until the last pair of victors met in combat to determine the champion. Trogar knew that he wouldn't be able to win the contest, but he had arranged things to ensure that he had a strong showing, which should showcase his physical prowess. He also made sure that he would be out of the tournament long before having to face either of his brothers. The last thing he needed was another opportunity for them to humiliate him.
When the incompetent squire finally managed to get it right, Trogar shoved him aside, threw on his chain shirt and hurried out to the arena. The day's combatants were already lining up to hear his mother's opening address. Unfortunately the fighters were lined up according to rank, which meant he had to stand next to Grotok and Belkor. His brothers were much larger, and that was not the image he wanted to send to Lyriena.
He scanned the stadium until he found the box set up for the elfin party. The princess looked too smug by half as she sat regally above the arena. She was dressed richly again, and the glint of the morning sun reflecting off the diamonds of her tiara and necklace created a blinding halo that framed her golden hair and pretty face. Soon you'll be mine.
The princess looked haughtily down at him from her perch, but rather than wilting under her gaze he just smirked impudently back up at her. You may have won yesterday's little encounter, but I've still seen you naked. You've still stroked my cock like the little elfin slut you are, he thought. Lyriena would make a good bride for him, once he broke her of her bad habits. She was certainly pretty, and had an able enough mind. He could put that to good use once she lost her pride and defiance. He wasn't so foolish to think that he could run the Elfish Isles overnight. He needed someone who knew and understood the Kingdom to be his advisor.
Hopefully he wouldn't get too bored with her once her spirit was broken. Although if she continued to defy him like she had been, he suspected it would take a good long while for him to tire of getting her back for it. When his mother rose to speak, he tore his eyes away from his intended to focus on the Queen.
Perhaps in answer to the defiance shown by the Elfs and Merchants yesterday, the Queen was dressed in a style reminiscent of the Eastern Kingdoms. Her skin-tight dress was made of red silk from the Eastern Kingdoms rather than silk imported from the Elfish Isles. It was embroidered with gold thread, cunningly wrought in the shape of blossoming flowers. The bottom hem of the dress barely covered her panties, short enough that half the kingdom would have been able to see her cunt if she was going without. When he craned his neck to see beneath it, he was somewhat relieved to find that his mother was at least wearing a pair of sheer black panties.
"Welcome to the third day of our Victory Festival! Today we honor the brave warriors who defeated the Hestan Invaders by showcasing the fighting prowess of our greatest knights."
Hardly the greatest knights, he thought, I made sure of that.
"Our champions will fight one-on-one until only a single victor remains. In addition to the prize awarded to today's winner, I will also bestow a very special favor on the ultimate champion."
When the Queen's Shadow smirked broadly from behind the Queen, Trogar glowered and tightened the grip on his axe. Impudent! Someone needs to put him in his place.
"On behalf of Princess Amelie, Princess Lyriena, and myself, I wish you all the best of luck. May fortune favor your blades!"
As the crowd cheered, Trogar glanced to the side opposite of the Elfish Royal Box, where the Thestan contingent was sitting. Amelie had declined to participate in the day's melee. It was simply too dangerous, she said, for the Crown Princess of Thesta to potentially duel the Kings of Zentara and Heste. The slightest accident could fracture the alliance, or even cause a war.
In truth, war was inevitable the moment her father had declined Grotok's suit for Amelie but that was a problem for another day. Neither Kingdom was ready for that conflict now. Trogar headed back inside the arena to prepare for his first battle. His squire had his blunted axe ready when he arrived. Trogar's axe had a nice thick heft to it, so that he could block with it in combat. The shaft would snap if hit by a real sword, though it could easily withstand the blow of a blunted tourney sword. As he never intended to be in actual combat though, it didn't really matter. He also preferred the axe because it was his father's weapon, an image that still carried a lot of weight in the Kingdom.
Trogar watched the first two matches, which unfolded just as he had expected they would. His brothers trounced their opponents with ease, and now it was his turn to fight. His first opponent was Sir Michael Elton, a man of middling skill at best, and Trogar had been able to defeat him regularly in the practice yards. While the knight was competent with a sword, he wasn't able to overcome Trogar's advantage in size and strength.
It only took him a few moments before Sir Michael was face down in the dirt, utterly vanquished. Trogar hadn't felt merciful. Trogar's second match went the same. His third bout was against Sir Irwin Emry, a renowned fighter who covered himself in glory during the war against Heste. Fortunately, Emry was a poor, unlanded knight, and a fat purse convinced him to throw the match in Trogar's favor, though he made a great show of it before finally succumbing to Trogar's "skill".
It wasn't until the fourth match that Trogar's manipulations came to an end. He was supposed to be fighting Lord Preston Goodwin, a powerful and skilled veteran warrior, who was easily bought for the promise of some very special service from Soleil and Florette. To his dismay, Goodwin had been defeated by the elfish captain Goriel. Trogar didn't know how the diminutive elf was able to defeat Lord Preston, but surely he would crumple beneath the weight of Trogar's blows.
Perhaps it's even better this way, he thought, what better way to symbolically assert his dominance over the elfs than to defeat their captain?
When he stepped out onto the field, Goriel bowed to him and saluted amiably. Clearly the princess had not shared with her captain exactly how the negotiations were proceeding. Trogar smirked and returned the salute, and then spun his axe as he moved into position. The two faced off, and when the signal to begin was given Trogar charged forward and swung the axe down at him, trying to land a massive blow.
Goriel pivoted out of the way and swung the spear around, smacking him in the back. Trogar stumbled forward and turned, slicing the axe through the air horizontally. The captain ducked beneath it, and then jabbed the spear tip forward toward the orc's belly. Trogar maintained enough balance to step back out of range.
This isn't right, he thought, I should be using my greater reach to keep him at a distance. But he has a spear, a weapon made for distance fighting, which means I should try to close the gap. Before he could work out the problem, Goriel darted forward, jabbing the spear and forcing the orc Prince to walk backwards and retreat before the assault. He tried to parry the spear away, but his axe was too heavy and gained too much momentum to keep up with the dancing spear tip, which blurred before his eyes as the captain pressed his attack.
Trogar turned his blade and swung it sideways, sweeping the elf's spear to one side. The orc capitalized on the opportunity by charging forward, hoping to use his bigger size to over bear the diminutive captain and bring him to the ground. Before he could grab him, and before he even knew what had happened Goriel had rolled out of the way and ended up behind him.
Using one hand, Goriel thrust the spear between Trogar's legs, tripping him up and sending him face first into the dirt. Somehow the princess' laughter cut through the cheering of the crowd to ring in his ears. That bitch, he fumed, she is going to pay for that! He growled in frustration and rolled to the side as the captain thrust the spear down at him. He quickly rolled back to try and trap the spear beneath his body, but the elf managed to pull it back in time.
After quickly scrambling to his feet, the two circled each other warily. Trogar was already panting for breath, though Goriel still looked calm and collected. I have to finish this soon, he thought, that damn elf will outlast me at this pace!
Just as Trogar was about to resume the attack, Goriel launched himself forward like a bolt from a crossbow, beating him to the punch and began jabbing the spear forward again. Trogar stepped back, trying to keep away from the spear thrusts, but he was even more tired now and his arms were starting to feel like lead. More of the captain's attacks began getting through, poking and prodding his arms and hands as Trogar desperately fended off a match winning blow.
Sensing defeat was imminent; Trogar made one last effort and suddenly leapt to one side, pivoted, raised his axe high and brought it chopping down towards the elf's skull. Goriel used the momentum of his thrust to continue forward so the axe sliced through the air behind him. He quickly pivoted, dropping his spear and drawing a blunted dagger. Quick thrusts slammed into Trogar's kidney, making him cry out and stumble forward. He began to spin back furiously when the trumpets sounded, heralding Goriel's victory.
"Well fought, Your Highness." Goriel said, seemingly amiably.
Is he mocking me? Trogar wondered. "Thank you, Captain. You fight superbly, and do your Kingdom credit." Trogar forced out the words, his face contorted in a horrid rictus of a smile. He swore he could hear Lyriena's fevered applause for the victory of her champion. My brothers will never let me hear the end of this, he thought, beaten by a tiny elf! It was humiliating, and sent entirely the wrong message to the princess. It was bad enough that she had discovered a backbone; this would only embolden her further.
The Prince left the field hastily and hollered at the squire to get his armor off. Trogar spit to get the taste of dirt and defeat out of his mouth. Once he was free of this damn armor he would go and take a nice bath. That should calm him down and improve his mood before going to see the princess. She better have an answer for me on whether she's staying. Maybe I can use this to my advantage; perhaps my losing will help embolden her to stick out the negotiations. Yes, that's not bad, that's what I can say to Grotok and Belkor: it's all a part of a strategy!
A short while later he was clean from the dust and sweat of the arena. Dressed once more in a fine silk tunic, he felt more himself than he had all week. Lyriena would still be at the melee, so he decided to kill some time and catch up on his reading. The codex on the Elfish Isles was frustratingly brief, so he had ordered better histories from them. It was easy to get around the embargo since he was the one who ordered it in the first place.
