“Peter was most dreadfully frightened; he rushed all over the garden, for he had forgotten the way back to the gate.
He lost one of his shoes among the cabbages, and the other shoe amongst the potatoes.
After losing them, he ran on four legs and went faster, so that I think he might have got away altogether if he had not unfortunately run into a gooseberry net, and got caught by the large buttons on his jacket. It was a blue jacket with brass buttons, quite new.
Peter gave himself up for lost, and shed big tears; but his sobs were overheard by so friendly sparrows, who flew to him in great excitent, and implored him to exert himself.”
-Beatrix Potter, The Tale Of Peter Rabbit, (2nd Era, 1901)
To his imasurable disappointnt, and the fact that he had to sit on the sidelines of the wrestling tournant to begin with, Erec found out he wasn't in the first bracket to go, which was odd. Given his age and that of the other initiates, it seed a no-brainer that they'd be the first to complete.
But he was wrong. The age range was 12 to 17. Teenagers. Amazing on one hand since his sole focus had been on others around his age, judging their strength and wondering how he would compete. But as a small handful of challengers lined up, it beca undeniable that there were younger competitors. People had brought kids and teens across the wasteland for the tournant since not all those competing were from the Kingdom.
Erec tucked his hands in his pockets as officials ferried around the young competitors. There were several basic rings. Mysticism had ford the boundaries out of stone, and the insides were simple dirt. His friends wandered near him, their eyes keen as they chatted among themselves, making bets over who was going to win.
Erec didn't have the investnt.
It wasn't the first kids he'd seen in the wasteland; they had a certain scrawny toughness, much like the Pendragons who'd lived their entire lives on the road. As the first age bracket began to comnce, he got a feel for the strength of these competitors.
Those who were from outside the walls had a clear advantage. Facing danger led to developnt, and the more nomadic the participant, the better they did when facing off against others. There was a primal edge to them as they put up a fight... So groups, however, hadn't co with anyone so young, so naturally, the number of participants was only around thirty.
Those like the Pendragons had the clear advantage, but they had competition. A few young nobles from Cindrus---a few more primal youths, not from the obvious gangs related to the Pendragons. But as they wrestled in the dirt, kicking up dust as they rolled around, none of the fights were impressive enough to get Erec's heart revving... But well, it was a simple contest of strength and endurance. Skill too.
But none of these youths had ignited their talents, so true odd dynamics didn't co into the matches as they wandered from ring to ring, watching as the bracket whittled down.
At the very least, he got an understanding of the rules that would govern this tournant.
Winning here ant pinning your opponent for 8 seconds. The way he saw people accomplish that again and again was to exhaust their foe, then put them in a lock.
That was the pathway to victory.
And it was here---in the technical aspect---that most noble houses had the disadvantage. Erec never recalled having many 'hand-to-hand' lessons, not even in the Academy. They didn't stress it. As a kid, he was repeatedly drilled on swords as the goddess favored that. So, seeing people so proficient in breaking out different locks and fist techniques that had been trained, even in these teenagers, made Erec feel a little nervous. He'd done his fair share of wrestling with Bedwyr growing up, but to put it into the scale of a competition here was troubleso.
While he could rely on brute strength for much, there had to be a limit to how far it could take him.
One by one, the youngest bracket whittled down further and further. Competitors giving way. Losing, winning. Eventually, only one of them was left standing- a kid from one of the roaming car tribes. Not a Pendragon. As Erec would have recognized one of Enide's pack. But still, Enide and her family cheered as if it were one of her own. He knew that the different roaming Packs had a sort of connection to each other and that occasionally they t up for discussions about the wasteland. It was still interesting to see how they all fell in line and supported one of their own.
Still, as it ended, he cheered too.
The next bracket was his, ages 18 to 25. The youth were the newest knights and Knight Errant, up to a couple who had made it to the ranks of Knight Protector or higher.
There were cheers for the winners even as the next participants began to make their way to the middle ring—all of the people moving to join were those expected to begin their careers and represent the people they represented. Erec stood proudly among an assortnt of Knights as they were invited to the ring.
Neither Garin nor Colin had decided to compete in this particular ga, though they stood by Enide with Olivia on the sidelines cheering him on. There were others. Among his age, noticeably absent was Bedwyr, who, going by what he said, had decided not to compete in the tournant at all. Which still annoyed Erec. It was an opportunity for his brother to best himself. Whatever.
You can’t control others' actions. You can only control yours.
His fury began to drum up as they ushered off the winner and began sorting through their ranks---there would be a preliminary round, but as the organizer picked and chose so of them, like Erec, got seeded through to the tournant itself.
Based on strength or feat, he couldn't know.
Erec spent the ti taking in his fellow competitors.
Noticeably absent, too, was his supposedly biggest threat in the tournant: Forest. The big guy was nowhere to be seen. And neither was Soren, the Prince. In fact, he couldn't see anyone from the royal family at all. The way the Knights put together and hosted this event made it seem kind of official, but it bordered more on sothing they threw together to keep people entertained than an official, sanctioned ga that would be coming later.
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No prizes and the almost intentionally haphazard, put-together string of events... Seed intentional? Erec couldn't tell the purpose.
He focused not on the people missing but on the people here—people brimming with muscle and radiating power—and Erec felt excited. He saw a man with a hand tattoo on his bare chest who looked as if he could rip a monster in half. He saw a woman whose skin glead like steel, likely so sort of manifestation of a talent.
Good. Erec's fists balled, and a smile ca to his face as a man went around---giving those seeded like him numbers, portioning off the rest who were to go through the preliminary.
A Knight Commander went through those given the pass, as others were ushered to surrounding rings for a quick test. He paced up and down, taking in the competitors. He was a bald man, and weirdly familiar to him. He arranged them and coordinated between the eager competitors and the surrounding team to enable the mission.
They got numbers, Erec got his---25.
Shortly after, a large banner appeared where everyone could see. Suspended by rock poles. The bracket. A total of 64 competitors.
Ti flowed quickly as the Knight Commander issued more orders, arranging people as numbers were drawn and put on the board. Just looking at the sheer number of rounds there would be, even with multiple rings and the sun in the sky, it was clear there would be a second day of competitions.
But Erec didn't care. This was his competition.
The people fighting in this wrestling match would no doubt be in the main tournant itself, and therefore, it was a wonderful chance to get to know them. They were the ones he was the most eager to face off against. To be given this opportunity was an absolute blessing, and he felt a pride as he saw his number go up there, a magic glyph burning the sheet of parchnt, which suspended and showed everyone the order of the tourney.
It didn't take long for the preliminaries to finish, and the victors of that were also assigned their numbers. Erec stood at attention among his fellow Knights. Expected to be on display as a pillar of pride and discipline, the Knight Commander rushed to organize their way through the fights.
Thank the Goddess, it wasn't much longer. After witnessing art and seeing teens fight, he was finally given the blessed opportunity to reach the ring.
His number was called, and he was led to a ring, feeling fire well up in his gut every step. Each hour of today has been a test of patience. A brutal test of patience that made every second feel like an eternity—not that it had been bad with Enide, but she understood. He was made for fighting, and this would be like drinking cold water in a desert as he waited for the proper tournant.
So it was with great disappointnt that when he reached the field of battle, when his number was called and he took in his foe, he saw a scrawny man. Not a Knight, but he looked to be from that odd old-world military wearing group. Like the rest, this guy wore the old world flag on his corner and fatigues that looked like they blended in with the desert itself.
Interesting in and of itself. That group had kept mostly to themselves in the village, so this would be his first personal taste with them, but he couldn't lie. This guy simply didn't radiate the authority of Strength that Erec had been looking for in a competitor. Nor did he scare Erec. He felt the fire in him quenched as he took in the man who stepped into the sandy ring with him.
The guy gave him a slight nod, which Erec returned out of respect.
"In this corner, on this side, we have Sir Erec of House Audax, Slayer of the White Stag," the announcer called... And then, Erec was shocked.
There were cheers around the ring. His people from the Kingdom and those who were Pendragons, witnessing, shouted their hearts out. Erec was startled in response to the public outcry he'd caused; taking in for the very first ti, not his competitors, but the crowd that had gathered around his ring, almost double the size of any of the others---civilians, nobles, all of them suddenly in an instant were cheering for him, both because of his history as a hero and the fact that he was a representative for the Kingdom itself in even this ga.
Secondly, he felt a burden on his shoulders. This entire tournant revealed a new dynamic that he'd never considered. When he fought out here, he wasn't fighting just for him. He was fighting for all the people who believed in him. It reignited his fire, even if his opponent didn't set it quite ablaze.
The announcer called "Jack Rosen" from the States Military Special Forces next.
States Military Special Forces? That's what they call themselves?
There were confused murmurs, but unlike with Erec, there was no outcry—just silence. Not even from those in the dusty fatigues who sat watching on the sidelines. It was odd that they didn't support one of theirs, but instead, they watched.
Jack, for his part, stood straight, hands behind his back as he took in Erec with eyes trained in a strange, foreign way. The silence to his announcent didn't put off Jack at all. The man simply stood straight and continued to make his evaluations.
Am I missing sothing?
His mind raced as he took in his opponent.
Jack was thin, skin and bones. Appearances could be deceptive, yes. But there was a confidence in his posture that made Erec suddenly uncertain. This was the first round, and if he recalled, Jack hadn't needed to go through the preliminaries.
Erec hadn't seen this man in action yet. He didn't know what he was capable of. But there was an almost supre relaxation to his posture. No fear, particularly against soone who had just had half of their ears shouted out by a roaring crowd eager to see their fight. If Erec were in that position, he'd probably feel more amped up. But that wasn't the case either. There was calmness as Jack took him in. Like assessing a threat. But not the type of threat that you pegged as a danger. More like solving a puzzle.
Erec cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders. This ti, maybe it was just the fury and excitent from having all the people cheer for him. But now he felt that sa fire transferring over to the idea of fighting this guy. Maybe there was sothing more here buried beneath the surface. He could only hope and see if that was true.
The announcer gestured for them to step in closer and shake hands, which they both did. Grasping Jack's hand and feeling a strength there in his grip as the man looked him in the eyes.
"It's my pleasure," said Jack, giving him a nod.
"Mine as well," Erec said. "Give it your all," he said with a wide grin as they stepped back to their respective positions in the wrestling match.
There was a small smile on Jack's face. It didn't reach his eyes, but at least humanity was buried underneath that stoic deanor. Both retreated back to the ring's edges; Erec threw off his Academy jacket and shirt, feeling the desert sun bearing down on his skin and warming it.
The warmth transferred to his muscles, burning them up as he let the thrill of the competition run through him.
Three seconds later, the announcer roared for them to begin. And Erec strode forward, intending to test this 'State Military Special Forces' for all he was worth, and hoping as he watched Jack move forward too, that he was about to get a fight worthy of being so fired up.
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