Chapter 990: Chapter 50 The Mountains
The legendary beast-fighting performance ca to an end, but the story was not over yet.
Siegfried was lifted high by strangers and carried all the way to the foot of the royal viewing platform, with the body of the bison being dragged along as well.
The flags on the viewing platform waved, signifying that the Emperor had granted Siegfried the honor of cutting the beast’s ears and tail.
The crowd gently set Siegfried down, and Farnan finally found a chance to speak with Siegfried: “How are you?”
Clutching his left arm and gritting his teeth, Siegfried replied: “It’s nothing.”
He staggered towards the body of the bull. The once majestic and wild animal now lay silently on the ground, its lifeless eyes gazing at the sky, still in peace.
For so reason, the thirst for victory and conquest that had just been storming inside Siegfried’s heart had vanished in an instant.
He felt no joy or pride, no sense of achievent or happiness, in stark contrast to when he first entered King Karl XI’s palace.
Looking up at the stands, the girl who had haunted his dreams was no longer there, leaving Siegfried suddenly overwheld with a sense of absurdity and powerlessness.
He lowered his head to look at the bull, thinking that if not for this impulsive and aningless gladiatorial combat, this strong and beautiful creature might still be free to run, live, and reproduce in the wilderness.
Seeing that Siegfried was hesitating to cut off the beast’s ears, Farnan drew his sword, ready to do it for Siegfried.
“Don’t,” Siegfried stopped Farnan.
Farnan recognized the struggle in Siegfried’s eyes, his look full of sympathy, but his attitude left no room for debate: “So things must be done, otherwise it’s like insulting the Castilians… Let do it.”
The flags rose, but the new legendary Gladiator was reluctant to cut the beast’s ears and tail, and the Castilians around started to sense sothing amiss.
Siegfried stood unmovable, staring at the body of the bison: “I should listen to you.”
“It’s all over, don’t think too much,” Farnan sighed, reaching out to close the bull’s eyes: “No matter what you choose, from the mont it was captured, it was fated to die in the arena. Having you as an opponent, at least it died with honor.”
“What honor is there in a death so pointless?”
Farnan didn’t answer, instead, he leaned over to cut off the bull’s ears and tail, wrapped them in his cloak, and placed them in Siegfried’s hands. He grasped Siegfried’s arm, lifting the spoils high.
A deafening cheer erupted, and the young nobles around surged forward, intending to lift the legendary Gladiator up high according to tradition and carry him out of the hunting field.
“Back off!” Farnan protected Siegfried: “He’s injured! Don’t jostle him! Earl Harlan needs a physician!”
The frenzied crowd suddenly parted like a tide and quickly beca quiet.
The crisp sound of horse bells approached, and an old man led a silver-grey Warhorse towards Siegfried, as Castilian nobles on both sides bowed their heads in respect.
In the entire Empire, only two people could make the proud and unbridled Castilian nobility make way and pay homage. One is the Emperor, and the other was now in front of Siegfried—the Baron Hernan, Imperial Marshal.
“A performance of extre magnificence, Earl Harlan.” Marshal Hernan took the initiative to speak, not sparing any words of praise: “Charging at a rampaging bison with a sword, such courage! Such skill!”
He smiled and passed the reins he held to Siegfried, saying kindly: “Earl, please accept this Warhorse as a congratulatory gift from .”
Hearing Marshal Hernan’s words, the Castilian nobles, who had been concentrating on the Marshal, finally paid attention to the Warhorse he had brought.
Indeed, it was a Warhorse of imnse value; with a tall, lean body, strong limbs, proper joints, and a beautiful front chest, even the strictest horse appraisers could not detect any flaws.
The original owner apparently cherished this horse greatly, for there was not a scar on its body, not even under the ribcage. It was clear that the owner was reluctant to use spurs and always controlled the horse with just the knees and reins.
To give such a beloved horse away, the original owner must have been in great pain. And there he was at the mont, the horse’s forr master with a downcast face following behind the horse—it was Little Hernan.
The Castilian nobles witnessing Marshal Hernan gifting the horse to Earl Harlan had shimring eyes and various expressions.
Farnan nudged Siegfried’s elbow, signaling him to accept.
Exhausted and out of willingness to deal with the Castilians’ thoughts, and even if he did, Siegfried did not care.
“Marshal Hernan.” Siegfried summoned his energy, and straightforwardly responded to old Hernan: “If not for Sir Little Hernan’s assistance, this bison would have killed . This fight was not fair, so please forgive for not wanting to accept congratulations.”
The atmosphere instantly froze, and the smiles of the Castilian nobles turned stiff.
Siegfried, clutching his left arm, hobbled out of the crowd. As he brushed past Little Hernan, he nodded gently at him, and besides that, he did not say a word to anyone else.
Farnan apologized deeply to Marshal Hernan with a bow, then quickly followed after Siegfried’s departing figure.
…
[Siegfried’s Tent]
Farnan entered the tent with an armful of firewood, shoving it one by one into the stove to make the fire burn brighter.
Siegfried, bare-chested, sat on the campaign cot, being examined for injuries by Brother Luke from the Order of Michael.
“Earl Harlan.” Brother Luke released Siegfried’s left arm, speaking helplessly: “If you are in pain, you need to express it, so that I can know where it hurts.”
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