NOTE: I’ve been playing with the character of the young man (Roy?) in my mind for a while. I don’t have a story for him, quite yet, just some ideas.
It was a fair summer day. The king and his retinue presided over the festivities, smiling and wishing well to the contestants, and one in particular, an unknown, was taking these well-wishes to heart. The commoner had climbed the leaderboard into the finals. He was young, too, spry, and the king watched with a delighted eye as the youth harangued an older, more experienced soldier. He knew the one, part of his personal guard, and sorely in need of retirement. Had he strength or speed left in his body, the old soldier would have made this upstart dance, but even with all his subtle tricks, he lacked the energy to drive his point home. However, the soldier’s decline spoke naught against the burgeoning skill of this unknown combatant. The youth showed promise.
Their swords met with a ringing clang, and the two pressed into each other. The old soldier’s hand went to his dagger, but with a sudden push, the youth threw him back. Staggering a little, the old soldier extended his point, holding his sword out between himself and the upstart. This was met by a harsh parry, and the sword flew from the old man’s hand.
There was clapping in the stands.
“Yield,” commanded the youth.
The old soldier’s other hand was still on the hilt of his dagger, and his eyes bored into his opponent.
“Stop,” commanded the king.
The youth’s sword lowered, and the hand fell from the dagger. Both contestants fell to their knees as the king arose.
“I’m inclined to give the victory to the stranger,” continued the monarch. Here he addressed the old soldier, “My dear friend, you’ve had many honors, and I know you would fight to the last. Prithee, retire from the field and enter into rest. You’ve gained for yourself not just honor, but my love. Come, sit beside me and share my cup.”
“My lord’s words are kind, but he asks me to change the habit of a lifetime in a time of life where habits do not change so readily as one wills.”
“Your majesty,” came the stranger’s voice. “May I speak?”
The king nodded.
The youth did not begin immediately, but was silent some time before speaking. “I have disarmed him, and if you please, I will disarm myself. We will finish this contest with our knives.”
“No,” said the king, “though I like you better for your offer. Come beside me, friend, and let this fair minded youth begin his career.”
The king sat, the contestants rose, and the old man bowed.
“I wish you well,” he said to the stranger.
The youth pulled off his glove and extended a bare hand.
“And I would wish to know you better.”
Tale Told 