On the day the “Red Maiden” was to arrive at the ports of Kinghaven, the waters were especially calm. Birds flew overhead signaling land, and a loud hurrah pulsated through the crowd, awaiting with bags, and other belongings at hand. They were eager to get off and go about their business. Lucian did not have much to take with him except for his longblade, the dagger he was gifted, and the pouch of coins.

He would not have to search long to find Haymond. The captain promised him that upon landing, he would see to it that he was escorted to Haymond’s estate. By the time the ship parked at the port, Lucian’s pulse beat was to the max. It was like a fairy tale. The ships alongside them were of every shape and design, and the people, perhaps in the tens of thousands moving about the port. They were dressed in simple outfits, similar to the people of ancient times he had read about in his books. Some were extravagant dresses, especially the women.

“What are you waiting for, come on,” Adelaide said, descending down the stairs of the ship to the lively port. “If you’ve never been to Kinghaven, it is quite a sight, isn’t it.”

Indeed.

They could hardly walk without accidentally bumping into people, some stopping to give him a bizarre glance. When everyone had boarded off, they bid farewell to each other. Adelaide left with her father on a horse carriage and several guards. She told him that he should visit her if he wanted, at the “Kyres Manor.” True to his word, the captain whistled a boy down, who dressed very roughly, to say the least. He paid him a few coins and told him to take Lucian down to Haymond’s. The boy nodded and instructed Lucian to stick close.

It was truly a sight to behold, even more so than the port. Every street was packed to the brim with people. Some were conversing with vendors that say with large tents that gave shade to fruits, and vegetables. Others sold expensive-looking jewelry and garments. Behind almost all of these tents were giant three or four-story wooden houses that were built very sturdily, and had many windows on the top and bottom. Lucian asked the boy, who looked very bored, about these buildings. He informed Lucian that they were usually residential lodges, guild quarters, or more shops.

Most of the people walking were on foot, but there were the occasional horses and carriages that passed through. The boy, whose name turned out to be Mortis, said they were halfway to Haymond’s place.

As they continued their journey through the bustling streets of Kinghaven, Lucian found himself captivated even more by the sights and sounds of the vibrant city. Everywhere he looked, there was something new to see.

Lost in the excitement of it all, Lucian failed to notice the approach of a large horse and carriage, its hooves pounding against the cobblestones. With a sudden jolt, he felt himself knocked backward, stumbling to the ground as the horse thundered past, its rider shouting curses in its wake.

"Watch where you're going, you fool!" the coachmen exclaimed.

Mortis rushed to help Lucian to his feet. "You're lucky that horse didn't trample you!"

Brushing himself off, Lucian felt a surge of embarrassment wash over him as he realized his mistake. He had been so caught up in the sightseeing that he had failed to pay attention to his surroundings, putting himself in harm's way.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, casting a sheepish glance at Mortis. "I wasn't paying attention."

“Best be careful, young lord,” he said. “Streets will only get busier this month.”

“Why this month?” Lucian asked, continuing to follow the quick Mortis.

It was a once in every four years event. Mortis explained that the nobles and royalty from all over the continent would come together in Kinghaven, and participate in a tournament. The Tournament of Glory. It was held to honor the king and his peace. Winners of the tournament gained favor with the king. Usually, the participants were knights, or fighters that the families had bought to represent them, or were part of their legionnaires.

“We are here, Lord,” Mortis said.

Lucian tipped him a few coins, to which Mortis thanked him repeatedly, even bowing.

Haymond was a rich man. Beyond rich. The estate reached maybe half a mile long. Delicately designed with stone and shaped like a mini-castle. In front of the entrance stood two statues of knights welding spears crossing together to guard the doors. Lucian entered, telling the security that he was sent there by a close friend of “Lord” Haymond. They would not allow him to go further unless he surrendered his weapons. He obliged, knowing that it should be fine. After all, Abenor did say that he would help Lucian.

The waiting room was grand. Chandeliers made of gold fell from the mountainous ceiling. Chairs decorated with diamonds, and paintings, ranging from portraits to abstract scaled each wall. Near him, two other men awaited to meet with Haymond. One was before him, and one arrived shortly after Lucian had come. None of the men spoke to each other. After the first man had been called, and finished, it was Lucian’s turn now. An old man, with white hair, and a white beard escorted him through the halls of the estate to Haymond’s office.

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Sitting at his decorative chair, a middle-aged man wearing puffy trousers, a fitted long-sleeve shirt, and spectacles on his left eye studied Lucian. This was Lord Haymond. The supposed Haymond that Abenor told him to seek. Abenor had exuded an aura of strength and power, but to Lucian, the man in front of him seemed the opposite.

“Are you going to say anything, or just stare?” Haymond barked, losing patience.

He addressed him as lord and said that he was sent here, to seek his help. Haymond asked who had sent him, and Lucian said, “Abenor, son of Josef.”

Haymond’s eyes widened, and the creases on his forehead followed suit. “Where is he? And who are you?” he said, getting up from his seat, and walking up to him.

Lucian explained everything to him. From the start, when he met Abenor. He purposefully left out the other-world part of it. Lucian felt like he could trust Haymond. Though he was not an impressive man, he seemed to have power and influence, and he needed it if he was going to find Abenor’s daughter. His sister now.

Haymond’s face was graven. There was sadness in his silver eyes. He stood near the window of the great room, and spoke, “So that’s how his story ends. Alone and at the hands of a monster.”

“He was not alone,” Lucian stated.

Haymond looked back, and said, “Lucian, is it? Let me tell you, I have known Abenor since we were kids. We loved to perform when we were younger and became members of the local circus. It was fun, but it was not something you could do forever. I understood that, but he never did. I tried my best to convince him to get out and join me in starting my theater guild, but he refused me every time. He loved it too much. He went and got married to another woman in the circus, and had two kids with her. A pity for them, the fool was absent more than the fathers of bastards”

Two kids?

“Do not look for her. She ran away from him, and does not want to be found,” Haymond advised.

“But... He risked his life — hell he even died to find her. I promised that –,” Lucian was frustrated by the words he had heard.

Haymond scoffed at him, and teased, “You’re not his son. He had many sons like you!”

“What!?”

“The second child he had was a boy, and the poor thing died with the mother.” Haymond said. “He’s been trying to replace that boy, and had many ‘sons’ just like you. Let me guess, you're a poor, orphaned, or a bastard.”

No response from Lucian.

“All of them were, and he had as many sons as I do fingers. They understood he was not right in the head later and parted. I am telling you this for your own sake, leave and forget about it,” Haymond commanded.

So what? Is it wrong to not want to be lonely and alone anymore? So what that he made mistakes. He tried to fix them! He saved me. From myself. I don’t care what Haymond says, he is my father.

“No, I won’t.” Lucian shot a firm glare at Haymond. “I will find her, and finish his journey.”

Haymond sighed and opened the glasses of the window. He shrugged his hands to signal Lucian to come and look. He obeyed.

“Look there,” Haymond said, pointing way in the distance, where hills rise. “That is Faerd Castle, the home of the King’s fourth son.”

Lucian nodded in confusion.

“Her name is Maia: Abenor’s daughter,” Haymond spoke softly now, with warmth. “When she ran away, she told me that she never wanted her father to find her. It was her wish.”

“I know you said he made mistakes as a father, but–” Lucian protested.

“But nothing! She is married to the king’s son. She is happy! Do not go ruining her life,” he screamed. “Even if you wanted to, you could never talk to her. Even someone like me would not have the authority to request an audience.”

Surely, this was not true. It could not be that Abenor’s hopes were dashed like that. Everything he had done for him, and now Lucian could not even do this for him? He looked outside, at the streets, and saw the same carriage, and coachmen that had knocked him down ride by.

The tournament!

He acknowledged what Haymond had said. However, he needed to find a way, any way to get to her. If he could win the tournament, maybe the king would listen to his request. When Haymond heard this, he began to shout even louder than before. He called Lucian “crazy,” and said he was, “out of his mind.” He also said it was not possible for someone like him.

Lucian knew that Haymond would not help. He need not hear anymore. Whether it would work or not, it was the only way he could think of to even have a chance to meet Maia. Leaving the door open, and scurrying into the streets, Lucian rushed to find out more about the tournament.

Outside the estate, a familiar face sat by an orange tent, selling fruits. Mortis was seated, and he was “waiting” for Lucian in case he needed any more help. It was for the tip he had received prior, and he was obviously greedy for more. Lucian gave him some more coins and asked him to tell him more about the tournament and how to join. Mortis only said what was said before, and that you needed a lot of coins to enter. Lucian showed him the pouch he had and asked if that would be enough to enter, and, practically drooling, Mortis said yes.

They walked through the streets, making lefts, and rights, and lefts again until they reached one of the large wooden buildings. Inside there were the registrations. Lucian entered, with Mortis right behind him. Lines upon lines of people, some armored, and some cloaked. They awaited their turn to talk to the registrars, who sat behind tables, writing down participant information, and taking their coins.

Lucian stood in line and waited. After an hour, he had moved to the front. He made his intention to join very clear and presented the coins needed for registration. They took most of it and began to write down his name and information.

“Sponsor?” the registrar asked.

“None,” Lucian answered.

“Sir, you need a sponsor to participate in the ‘Tournament of Glory.’ If you do not have one, you are free to participate in one of our other tournaments, if you'd like,” he said.

“No, I want to join this tournament, but I don’t have–,”

“Sir, do not hold up the line. If you do not have a sponsor, please leave, or join another tournament,” the registrar stated.

“He does have a sponsor,” a voice firmly said, walking up to Lucian.

Lucian looked to his side and saw who spoke. It was Haymond.