The next day the tournament grounds were filled to the brim. People lined the stands, waiting for the coming matches while buying food and drink. Other games were underway, and merchants were selling at the fair.

The contestants of the Tournament of Kings had been given a special booth. It was to the right of where Steward Benarus sat. There was a staircase leading quickly into the ring, a circle of white stones. Within, there was no grass.

"Raleen, you're here," said Estela.

Relma sat down next to her. "Yes, I am," She looked over the eager crowds. "There are a lot of people here."

"Well, it is the largest event we've had in years," said Estela. "We're only part of it. But we're the best part."

Relma looked at the others. "There are twelve of us here, aren't there?"

"Yes," said Estela. "What of it?"

"Wait," said Relma. "If that number gets cut in half in the first round and again in the second, we'll end up with three finalists. Who will fight who?"

"One of the finalists will fight two matches on different days," said Estela. "That's the tradition, anyway."

"Have you been to many tournaments?" asked Relma.

"I've been to many of them," said Estela. "Though I haven't fought in one before now." She loosened her sword in the sheath.

At that moment, Davian made his appearance. As usual, no one could say where he had come from. Everyone looked at him. He was carrying a box with a hole cut in the top. "Welcome, all of you.

"Now, before the matches can begin, we will have to perform a ceremony of sorts. Within this box, you will find a series of numbered markers. Each one represents a position in the contest."Come forward and take one, one at a time."

De Cathe arose and made his way over. Then, reaching in, he removed it and came back. Estela looked on with interest. "De Cathe, what number did you get?"

"Two," said De Cathe, raising it.

"Two?" asked Relma.

"Yes," said De Cathe. "I will be in the first round."

Estela came forward and took hers. She came back and looked at the note she found with narrowed eyes. Then she looked up to De Cathe.

"How faired you, milady?" asked De Cathe.

"I got one," said Estela. "I think we'll be fighting each other in the ring."

"Then I shall meet you on the field," said De Cathe.

"Lady Raleen, please step forward," said Davian.

Relma walked forward. As she did, she prayed she wouldn't get matched up against Estela. Or Frederick. Or Ajax. Or William Gabriel. The people she might stand a chance of beating in this tournament could be counted on one finger. Technically speaking, she didn't know if that dust elf or the black knight were any good. But she presumed they were qualified.

That was more than she was.

This had been a really bad idea. So she reflected as she reached into the box. The only person here she could see herself beating was Ham. He was just arrogant and stupid enough that he might get sloppy and leave her an opening.

Reaching into the box, she drew out a note. "Hmm, six." Was that good? No telling; no one had been matched up against six. She'd face the person who picked five.

William was next, and he drew out a note.

"William, what did you get?" asked Relma. Please, not five.

"Four," said William.

Thank Elranor.

"Sir Ajax," said Davian, sarcasm in his tone.

Ajax stalked forward. His hand darted forward and snatched out a note faster than Relma could follow. He unrolled it and scoffed. "Nine."

So she wouldn't be fighting Ajax. Good. The last time she'd tried fighting him, she'd been soundly humiliated. She wasn't up for a repeat.

"Sir Garrick Estov," said Davian.

The Dust Elf then came forward. Drawing out a card, he looked at it. An eyebrow was raised, and one of his ears twitched.

"Well?" asked Davian.

"...Ten," said Garrick. He looked to Ajax. "It seems we will face each other in the field. I hope you understand I hold no ill will toward you or your people."

Ajax smiled in a friendly fashion. "You're a dead man."

"Ajax, don't get carried away," said Raleen. "Remember, accidents are allowed. Intentional killings are not."

'Idiot! Lady Raleen doesn't know Ajax!" snarled a voice inside her.

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"Don't worry," said Ajax. "All my opponents will be alive at the end of this tournament."

"I'm certain they will tell many stories of your defeat," said Garrick.

"You may bluster later," said Davian. "The crowd awaits. Sir Frederick, come forward."

Frederick did come forward. He drew out a note. "Seven."

"Then you'll be in the second to last bout of the first round," said Davian. "Sir Varsus Gabriel, if you would be so kind?"

Varsus came forward and drew out yet another note. "Eight. It appears I will face Sir Frederick in the field of battle."

So far, so good. All of the competent people had yet to be matched up against Relma. So maybe she'd get one round in before being humiliated. Why did she enter this tournament? She was the only squire here!

"Hawkthorne, come forward," said Davian.

Hawkthorne drew out a now and smirked unpleasantly as he read it. His eyes leered at Relma. "I got five. I guess I'll first have to face the girl before I can get to the true challenge."

Relma tried not to jump for joy. She also tried to look intimidating. She didn't do a very good job either.

"Sir, I suggest you conduct yourself with greater respect," said Frederick. "It is the custom in Gel Carn."

"You," said Davian, pointing to the black knight, "come forward."

The black knight approached and drew out a card. "Nine."

"Who are you anyway?" asked Relma.

"I asked to remain anonymous for my own purposes," said the black knight, voice like death. Though it was feminine after a fashion. "My name is written in the book."

"Why are you hiding your identity?" asked Relma.

The black knight gave her what might have been a flat look. Then she turned and walked off without a word.

"Sir Reginald De Chevlon." said Davian.

Reginald took out his note and smiled. "Ten. I guess I'm up against a girl as well."

"Oh, please make judgments about my skills before you fight me," said the black knight. "It will be more satisfying when I hack off your limbs. Then I'll rub the open wounds with salt and have my way with your wife as you slowly bleed out."

Wait, was that Tanith? No, it couldn't be. It was a Tanith thing to say, but she was too short and slight of frame. Reginald put a hand to his sword. "You-"

"Ahem," said Davian. "That leaves Sir Gabriel facing our last contestant."

"And where is he?" asked William. "I haven't seen him anywhere."

"He didn't arrive at the last minute like everyone else," said Davian. "He was punctual, arriving at the first hour of the first day. He declined to attend the feast and has been watching from near Steward Benarus."

"Is there any reason he can't sit with the rest of us?" asked William.

"None whatsoever," said Davian with a smile. "Now, the first three matches will take place today. Then, when they have finished, we will adjourn for the day and allow other competitions to occur. "While none of you who aren't fighting are obligated to remain here, I suggest you stay to see the competition."

Ajax turned. "Well, that counts me out of things. I'm going to go get something to eat."

"Oh, come on, Ajax," said Relma. "You'll miss my fight." So why was she even bothering with the disguise? And why was no one calling her on it? They couldn't be this blind.

"I'll be back in time for it," said Ajax. "I want to take a look around this fair. There are a lot of things to smell."

Relma sighed. "Sir Frederick, are you staying?"

"I will be watching from the sidelines with Ronald," said Frederick, motioning. "There are some friends I want to meet with. Old comrades who didn't enter the tournament."

"Of course," said Relma.

She looked to where Ronald was waiting for his master. She wished she could have spoken with him before the match. But he was always busy with his duties. Looking at the ring, she saw Davian take center stage. "

"The first fight is about to begin. Lady Estela and Edward De Cathe step forward to the ring." Estela nodded to Relma, then walked forward with De Cathe. The crowd went wild as they took positions facing one another. Their hands were set to their swords, and their faces impassive.

"Nobles and commoners! Knights and ladies! Welcome to the first round of the Tournament of Kings!" cried Davian. "Here, we will weed out the weak from the strong until only the noblest remain to go on to the true event!

"For our first match, we have a Princes of Escor from the venerable House Vortegex! One of the three who retrieved the sword Lightning Trail! A valiant warrior who returned alive from the nightmarish Khasmir campaign!

"I give you, Lady Estela Vortegex!"

"Isn't this a bit dramatic?" asked Relma, of no one in particular.

"This is the way of things, milady," said Varsus. "The crowd enjoys it."

"From the other side, we have another veteran of the Islands of Power!" said Davian. "A warrior who has fought on land, on the sea, and in the depth of the Black Marshes themselves! Edward De Cathe!" And Davian backed away.

"Well," said Relma, "now we get to the fight."

"Well, in theory," said Reginald.

De Cathe drew his sword and flourished it in a sign of respect. "In the name of Escor, I salute you, Princess Estela."

Estela returned the salute in a movement that perfectly mirrored De Cathe's. Then they went at it, swords flashing in the sunlight as they fought back and forth. Their footwork was quick. They were soon circling each other with their blades singing. Estela struck with swiftly, while De Cathe was methodical in his parries. Yet De Cathe did not seem to be attacking very rapidly, or at all, really.

"This is against tradition," said Reginald. "You're supposed to mock each other and talk about how worthless the other one is."

The crowd was cheering now. Relma listened and hoped they would cheer like that for her match. She'd hate to be a letdown. "They certainly seem to be evenly matched."

"Hmm, it appears that way," said Varsus. "But I don't believe it. De Cathe is utilizing a great deal of footwork here. Leaving Estela to make all the offensives. He may be trying to tire her out." Relma looked closer and saw he was right. Estela was the one making most of the moves. But soon, she pulled back and quietly overtook the field. They were still circling each other. But they were looking for weaknesses, not attacking.

"It looks like she has caught on, though," said Reginald. "This could be anyone's game."

Then the battle continued in earnest.

"You're wrong, Reginald," said Varsus. "The fight is already over."

"What do you mean?" asked Reginald.

"Haven't you noticed that they are deliberately avoiding strikes?" asked Varsus. "This fight is more about spectacle. Both are attempting to stall."

"To what end?" asked Relma.

"Spectacle, obviously," said William.

Then, suddenly, De Cathe made a clumsy lunge. Estela caught it with her own blade, and with a twist of her sword, she sent the blade spinning to the ground. Her blade was at De Cathe's throat, and the man raised his hands and fell to his knees in defeat. Estela picked up De Cathe's sword, offered it to him, and helped him.

The crowd went wild.

"...You have bested me, Princess Estela," said De Cathe. "You are true of the line of Vortegex. Therefore, I will not contest you any further."

"A bit of good fortune for me," said Estela. "Nothing more."

"Of course," said De Cathe, nodding respectfully.

"Yes!" cheered Relma.

Estela saluted the crowd before turning and walking back to the stand. Relma ran to meet her. But Estela's face was furious.

"Estela, you won!" said Relma, hugging her.

"Hardly," scoffed Estela, sitting down and huffing her cloak around her. "He threw the fight out of loyalty. If he defeated me on stage, it would humiliate my house.

"This wasn't a real victory."

"Oh," said Relma. "Well, there is always next time, I guess. Whose second?"

"William against a knight of Antion," said Davian, appearing suddenly as usual. "Sir William Gabriel, Sir Joseph Korlac, your time has come."

Who was Joseph Korlac?