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Princess of Perversion

Chapter 41 The Game is Afoot

"A competition to win your hand?" Said Marius, "Well you shall hear no qualms from me. However what are these five events going to be?"

Malissa fidgeted, she had not thought that far yet. Her brow scurried while she thought. The fingers drummed and her cheeks puffed.

"Horses… I mean jousting. That is the first event."

"Jousting?" Laughed Sir Farrell, "I have this in the bag."

"And why do you say that?" Pondered the princess.

"Because I have won five tournaments for that very thing."

"Really?" Asked Faith, tugging on the man's ear.

"Yes of course. Have I lied to you before?"

"You have indeed."

"What, when?"

"Oh when you took the princess out—" started Faith before the knight's hand is slapped over her mouth.

"Hey isn't this a bit one sided?" Complained Fontane, "I mean me and Lance haven't even ridden a horse before, let alone joust."

"I have ridden a horse before, speak for yourself kid."

"What the hell is your problem?"

Lance's eyes glint with the intent to kill and the boy quieted himself instantly. Faith rubbed her hands with glee.

"If you will excuse me I have to inform the King that Malissa has agreed to pick one of you," said the witch, submerging into the darkness of the hallway.

"So what are the other events going to be?" Asked the five men.

"That is a secret. Papa should be able to get the jousting going today so you will find out tomorrow. What is next, that is."

Time ticked by for a long while. The guards clanked down the halls but before long Faith returned with the King.

"So jousting, an interesting choice. Come the field awaits."

The group left the dingy stone halls and the sun was before them. The click-clack of hooves wavered on the cobbled stone. Five horses stood with handlers and with each was a suit of armor on a rack.

Farrell lifted the green and red armor plates into place. He took his black stallion. Lamont dawned the sapphire and violet metal. He pulled the reigns of his pearly clad horse. Marius wore the ebon and sanguine carapace. He sat astride his heavy warhorse.

Fontane was lowered into the heavy overlapping armor it was white and red. His horse was amber and whinnied with his addition. Lance was strapped down with steel plates they were thick and tempered. The unpainted metal glistened and his beast of burden was chestnut.

"I shall now determine the order," Said Vance his hand gesturing to a piece of parchment, "Fontane you shall battle Marius. Lance you shall confront Lamont. Farrell you will fight the losers, however if you are defeated the victor will take your place so on and so forth until the final duel is decided upon."

Faith took Fontane to the side, "Alright this is kinda a difficult spot for me. On one hand I have already pledged my services to Marius, on the other you are my lackey. I want you to take a dive and fight with Farrell. With any luck you will defeat him and make it to the final duel."

"With any luck?"

"We are going to cheat. What else could that mean?" scoffed the witch.

"What about the final round?"

"What about it? The best man will win. You see I do not place my eggs in one basket. Marius is my other man to bet on. Between the two of you I cannot lose."

"Does he know about this?" Asked the young master.

"Of course not. He is going to wreck anything that gets in his way. Which is why you will fall off the horse on the first hit. During the final round it will be almost fair. He will be tired you see."

"Wait a minute that sounds like more work for me. If I lose to him in the first round I will have to fight three more times before fighting who ever is the victor. Where as he only has to fight one opponent after me."

"Suit yourself if you think that you can take him in a fair fight be my guest. Although I suppose you have a fair point. Very well do this on your own then."

"Can you not do something to help me against him. If he loses then he would stand a better chance against Sir Farrell."

"You are on your own on this one."

'Some partnership indeed, damned witch. She is using me as cannon fodder for Marius!'

Malissa and the others made their way to the wooden stands that surrounded the arena. They sat while the horses below pranced to the starting positions.

Lily tilted her head, "What are they doing?"

"Jousting," replied Sir Farrell.

"What kind of game is that?"

"Well there are points. A strike to the body gives one, a strike to the head gives two, if the opponent is dismounted it is three. They charge one another thrice and who ever has the most points wins after."

"That sounds like a fun game."

"I agree," smiled the knight.

"One last thing," said the King, standing in the bleachers, "If you take the life of your opponent you will forfeit the tournament entirely. No matter how many points you have."

***

Fontane felt the beast below him tremble, preparing for the headlong charge. His armor was stiff and the lance was heavy. He flipped the visor of his helmet down and readied himself. A flag waved and the hooves started to thunder.

The horses rushed towards one another. The spears of wood gripped tightly between the riders. Black armor foreboded a sense of dread and Fontane shielded his face. Wood struck metal and cracked. He felt the piercing pole plow into him and he met resistance in his arm.

He was not dismounted. His armor was dented and he was winded but he had not fallen off. The young master looked to his opponent who had already gotten the next lance in hand. The black and red figure was unfazed and his stead was becoming impatient.

He reached down and Edward handed him another spear. He readied it and nestled the shield to his body. The reigns gripped hard as the wind flew by. Pain surged through him and his head was rocked by a strike. He tilted in the sandal but he did not fall.

His visor lifted and he saw how close it was. Splinters of wood were lodged in right side. They had scraped off in the impact. Fontane's eyes fell upon the demon. He was already waiting for the next go.

'I cannot win. I should have just given it to him from the start.'

"Edward relay this to him. I want a draw on this last run. The victory is his."

"Very well," said the gray-haired man.

He watched as his adversary gave a nod acknowledging the request. The young master nodded in return and the horses were charging towards one another once more. His eyes did not blink while his lance went high, as did Marius. The two passed without touching and the victory was assured.

Applause range out and Fontane was lifted off of his horse. It was taken away and he was removed from his armor. He took his place in the stands while the next two prepared for battle.

***

Lamont waved his soothing blue gauntlet to the crowd. He lowered the visor and lifted his shield into position. His opponent was clad in shimmering steal. It glistened in the sun and glared back at him. The lance was ready and the horse was trotting.

The hooves trampled the ground and the enemy grew closer and closer. His eyes stuck to his opponent and his weapon thrust for the chest. The clang of metal and wood rose. The lumber snapped in his grasp and he recoiled feeling the punch of Lance's weapon.

"Papa beat him!" cried from the stands.

The metallic man waved up in reply. The two were staggered and their horses trotted back. He quickly handed off the broken instrument of valor and drew up another. The prince eyed his armor-clad foe and to his astonishment he was just as ready for another go.

Both horses reared and they leapt towards the other. The wind rustled by and again they struck one another. The blows were solid but neither man budged. The fair prince plucked a splinter from his arm.

"First blood is to you," he said waving to Lance.

He received a wave in reply but the two men were already gripping their spears. Lamont's horse pranced in circles snorting for a moment before it was ready.

The muddy ground grumbled while the beasts raced towards the other. His eyes stared at the place where the shield locked to the arm and he thrust forward. It caught right in the notch and Lance was flung from his stead.

Papa… papa," blubbered Lilly overhead.

The prince circled back and extended his hand. The gardener took it and rose to his feet. High above the princess stood smiling like the sun.

***

"Fontane has elected to waver his standing in this round," said the king's booming voice, "Lamont take your place your opponent will be Marius."

The reigns were held tight in the ebon hands. The world seethed with fury, as the black and red prince stamped out. He eyed his opponent like a hawk. His weapon was long and tipped with a metal end.

"Come forth and let us do honorable combat," proclaimed Marius.

"You shall have no qualms from me," replied the azure and velvet prince.

The flags waved and the two roared towards the other. The steady thump of the horses' feet made the world seem peaceful to the dark prince. His lance aimed and set for his opponent's chest. He thrust and the crack of the wood shouted louder than the audience.

Lamont was carried for a short way and the horse had continued on without him. He fell to the mud. Marius offered his hand and the fallen man took it. He wobbled at first, before getting his mass centered.

"A good blow indeed," spat the fair prince.

Marius cared not however, giving a slight wave as his reply. His horse stood while he glanced down to his companion.

"Get me the metal one. I want to teach this dog a lesson."

"As you wish master," replied the crimson armored woman, hefting up a solid iron rod.

It was tipped with wood. The dark prince drew up the weapon with one hand. It was heavy indeed, weighing down even the horse. His arm was taut, holding it steady. The prancing of the horse had resumed and they were barreling towards one another.

His gaze did not falter and Lamont was struck by the metal. It grinded for a moment. The armor was dented but he had clung onto his horse to keep from falling. Marius looked at his own frame, finding a shaft of wood sticking from the joint in his side.

He tore it out and blood-followed suit. A smirk filled his face and he cast it aside. There was no need to get another lance. A veil of red had fallen over the arena. The beast stamped while the demon waited.

The flag swam through the air and the wind stopped. The thunder of hooves echoed and the scream of metal against metal followed. Lamont lay upon the ground. The mud covered his once pristine armor.

"Marius is victorious!" shouted through the crowd.

***

The light was starting to waver and the sun had reached the horizon. Lance looked out across the short stretch of muddy ground. His green and red clad opponent had the face of a dragon. His helmet had fin like plumes cresting back from the sides.

"Let this be an honorable fight," waved Sir Farrell from the otherside.

"This will definitely be something to remember," replied the gardener.

"Win this time Papa!"

Lance lifted his spear tapping it against shield twice. His hand grasped the reigns and he was off. The world was narrow, as though only a sliver of it actually existed. His stare found the knight rushing twords him. He rose his pole aiming it for the chest.

To his disbelief Farrell twirled his lance and diverted the weapon away. The dragon struck hard. Lumber shattered and the gardener found himself looking up at the darkening sky.

He slowly and shakily rose to his feet. Blood dripped from his maw. The metal to his side had dented in. Splinters lay all around. His horse had returned to his side and Lance lifted himself on its back.

He returned to his side and was handed another, "Keep it high but when he draws near aim for his visor," whispered a voice.

Lance looked about not seeing anyone. He thought about if for a moment more before trotting out. The chestnut beast lunged forward. He did as he was told keeping the lance high in the air. They drew closer and closer until he shoved it down. A loud crunch sounded and metal sparked. Lumber snarled and both men lay upon the ground.

"Papa! Papa! Are you ok?" cried the girl in the stands.

There was no cheering. The crowd was whispering. The gardener stood far faster than the knight, who gradually got to his feet. Farrell rubbed his head, he pulled a chunk of timber from the side of his visor. It was coated red.

"Good show!" Said the knight, walking off the blow.

Lance lifted himself back aboard his horse, as did his opponent. They trotted back to their sides. After another moment they were set against one another yet again.

The roar of the crowd arose and the two rode out to meet the other. The gardener did as he had before. However Farrell was doing something strange. His spear was off to the side straight across from him. Lance swung down and found the other wooden rod sweeping up. They collided and hit the other away.

The lumber bounced down and struck him in the chest. The impact jarred his bones and squeezed out his breathe. The world went black.

***

Lance fell to the ground and Farrell kept going. His spear snapped in half and tossed away. The revelry above sung but the gardener did not stir. He was drug from the field. Lilly wailed every step of the way down to the staging area below.

"Lamont has forfeited this round. We shall now proceed with the final match!" Said Vance.

Marius rode out of the gate taking his side. Sir Farrell pranced back into position. He glared at the demon and eyes of equal malice were returned.

His green metal hands held the reigns close. He lifted the lance into place and proceeded. The hooves pounded the ground while the dark prince swiftly approached. A light glared down and Farrell shielded his eyes. The sun gleamed so harshly just before it set. The punch of the shaft went through him and he fell from the horse.

He spat blood and clawed his way back onto his steed. The horse reared and trampled back to his side of the arena. It pawed the ground impatiently. It frothed at the mouth chomping on the bit.

A flag waved and the world swirled by. His weapon lowered and his stance was solid. They collided and neither gave an inch. The ebon prince fought to control his beast, as it reared and snarled from the impact. His hands clapped over its ears and it stopped its protests.

Sir Farrell felt light and the world seemed fuzzy. Blood seeped from his side but he did not care. The instrument of valor was lifted high and the flag waved once more.

Everything moved at a snail's pace. Destiny crept closer and closer with ever thumping step. The horses galloped onward, always moving forward. The lance lowered into striking distance and the knight saw the very moment of impact.

The dark prince toppled and fell from his horse. The emerald and ruby color man lowered his hand and the his opponent took it.

"It is a tie! So the next round will determine the winner!" Shouted the herald.

The horses stamped as though feeling the anxiety of their masters. Both reared and the two flung forward. Farrell felt so alive. His heart thumped and wavered. His frame was rigid. The weapon came to bear and the thunderous crack of wood snapping rose. Both men were staggered but neither fell.

The flags waved and the herald announced, "Sir Farrell is the winner, six points to five!"
The two combatants gave a nod to each other and left the arena. The crowd screamed and the event was over.

Description
Princess of Perversion

Chapter 41 The Game is Afoot

"A competition to win your hand?" Said Marius, "Well you shall hear no qualms from me. However what are these five events going to be?"

Malissa fidgeted, she had not thought that far yet. Her brow scurried while she thought. The fingers drummed and her cheeks puffed.

"Horses… I mean jousting. That is the first event."

"Jousting?" Laughed Sir Farrell, "I have this in the bag."

"And why do you say that?" Pondered the princess.

"Because I have won five tournaments for that very thing."

"Really?" Asked Faith, tugging on the man's ear.

"Yes of course. Have I lied to you before?"

"You have indeed."

"What, when?"

"Oh when you took the princess out—" started Faith before the knight's hand is slapped over her mouth.

"Hey isn't this a bit one sided?" Complained Fontane, "I mean me and Lance haven't even ridden a horse before, let alone joust."

"I have ridden a horse before, speak for yourself kid."

"What the hell is your problem?"

Lance's eyes glint with the intent to kill and the boy quieted himself instantly. Faith rubbed her hands with glee.

"If you will excuse me I have to inform the King that Malissa has agreed to pick one of you," said the witch, submerging into the darkness of the hallway.

"So what are the other events going to be?" Asked the five men.

"That is a secret. Papa should be able to get the jousting going today so you will find out tomorrow. What is next, that is."

Time ticked by for a long while. The guards clanked down the halls but before long Faith returned with the King.

"So jousting, an interesting choice. Come the field awaits."

The group left the dingy stone halls and the sun was before them. The click-clack of hooves wavered on the cobbled stone. Five horses stood with handlers and with each was a suit of armor on a rack.

Farrell lifted the green and red armor plates into place. He took his black stallion. Lamont dawned the sapphire and violet metal. He pulled the reigns of his pearly clad horse. Marius wore the ebon and sanguine carapace. He sat astride his heavy warhorse.

Fontane was lowered into the heavy overlapping armor it was white and red. His horse was amber and whinnied with his addition. Lance was strapped down with steel plates they were thick and tempered. The unpainted metal glistened and his beast of burden was chestnut.

"I shall now determine the order," Said Vance his hand gesturing to a piece of parchment, "Fontane you shall battle Marius. Lance you shall confront Lamont. Farrell you will fight the losers, however if you are defeated the victor will take your place so on and so forth until the final duel is decided upon."

Faith took Fontane to the side, "Alright this is kinda a difficult spot for me. On one hand I have already pledged my services to Marius, on the other you are my lackey. I want you to take a dive and fight with Farrell. With any luck you will defeat him and make it to the final duel."

"With any luck?"

"We are going to cheat. What else could that mean?" scoffed the witch.

"What about the final round?"

"What about it? The best man will win. You see I do not place my eggs in one basket. Marius is my other man to bet on. Between the two of you I cannot lose."

"Does he know about this?" Asked the young master.

"Of course not. He is going to wreck anything that gets in his way. Which is why you will fall off the horse on the first hit. During the final round it will be almost fair. He will be tired you see."

"Wait a minute that sounds like more work for me. If I lose to him in the first round I will have to fight three more times before fighting who ever is the victor. Where as he only has to fight one opponent after me."

"Suit yourself if you think that you can take him in a fair fight be my guest. Although I suppose you have a fair point. Very well do this on your own then."

"Can you not do something to help me against him. If he loses then he would stand a better chance against Sir Farrell."

"You are on your own on this one."

'Some partnership indeed, damned witch. She is using me as cannon fodder for Marius!'

Malissa and the others made their way to the wooden stands that surrounded the arena. They sat while the horses below pranced to the starting positions.

Lily tilted her head, "What are they doing?"

"Jousting," replied Sir Farrell.

"What kind of game is that?"

"Well there are points. A strike to the body gives one, a strike to the head gives two, if the opponent is dismounted it is three. They charge one another thrice and who ever has the most points wins after."

"That sounds like a fun game."

"I agree," smiled the knight.

"One last thing," said the King, standing in the bleachers, "If you take the life of your opponent you will forfeit the tournament entirely. No matter how many points you have."

***

Fontane felt the beast below him tremble, preparing for the headlong charge. His armor was stiff and the lance was heavy. He flipped the visor of his helmet down and readied himself. A flag waved and the hooves started to thunder.

The horses rushed towards one another. The spears of wood gripped tightly between the riders. Black armor foreboded a sense of dread and Fontane shielded his face. Wood struck metal and cracked. He felt the piercing pole plow into him and he met resistance in his arm.

He was not dismounted. His armor was dented and he was winded but he had not fallen off. The young master looked to his opponent who had already gotten the next lance in hand. The black and red figure was unfazed and his stead was becoming impatient.

He reached down and Edward handed him another spear. He readied it and nestled the shield to his body. The reigns gripped hard as the wind flew by. Pain surged through him and his head was rocked by a strike. He tilted in the sandal but he did not fall.

His visor lifted and he saw how close it was. Splinters of wood were lodged in right side. They had scraped off in the impact. Fontane's eyes fell upon the demon. He was already waiting for the next go.

'I cannot win. I should have just given it to him from the start.'

"Edward relay this to him. I want a draw on this last run. The victory is his."

"Very well," said the gray-haired man.

He watched as his adversary gave a nod acknowledging the request. The young master nodded in return and the horses were charging towards one another once more. His eyes did not blink while his lance went high, as did Marius. The two passed without touching and the victory was assured.

Applause range out and Fontane was lifted off of his horse. It was taken away and he was removed from his armor. He took his place in the stands while the next two prepared for battle.

***

Lamont waved his soothing blue gauntlet to the crowd. He lowered the visor and lifted his shield into position. His opponent was clad in shimmering steal. It glistened in the sun and glared back at him. The lance was ready and the horse was trotting.

The hooves trampled the ground and the enemy grew closer and closer. His eyes stuck to his opponent and his weapon thrust for the chest. The clang of metal and wood rose. The lumber snapped in his grasp and he recoiled feeling the punch of Lance's weapon.

"Papa beat him!" cried from the stands.

The metallic man waved up in reply. The two were staggered and their horses trotted back. He quickly handed off the broken instrument of valor and drew up another. The prince eyed his armor-clad foe and to his astonishment he was just as ready for another go.

Both horses reared and they leapt towards the other. The wind rustled by and again they struck one another. The blows were solid but neither man budged. The fair prince plucked a splinter from his arm.

"First blood is to you," he said waving to Lance.

He received a wave in reply but the two men were already gripping their spears. Lamont's horse pranced in circles snorting for a moment before it was ready.

The muddy ground grumbled while the beasts raced towards the other. His eyes stared at the place where the shield locked to the arm and he thrust forward. It caught right in the notch and Lance was flung from his stead.

Papa… papa," blubbered Lilly overhead.

The prince circled back and extended his hand. The gardener took it and rose to his feet. High above the princess stood smiling like the sun.

***

"Fontane has elected to waver his standing in this round," said the king's booming voice, "Lamont take your place your opponent will be Marius."

The reigns were held tight in the ebon hands. The world seethed with fury, as the black and red prince stamped out. He eyed his opponent like a hawk. His weapon was long and tipped with a metal end.

"Come forth and let us do honorable combat," proclaimed Marius.

"You shall have no qualms from me," replied the azure and velvet prince.

The flags waved and the two roared towards the other. The steady thump of the horses' feet made the world seem peaceful to the dark prince. His lance aimed and set for his opponent's chest. He thrust and the crack of the wood shouted louder than the audience.

Lamont was carried for a short way and the horse had continued on without him. He fell to the mud. Marius offered his hand and the fallen man took it. He wobbled at first, before getting his mass centered.

"A good blow indeed," spat the fair prince.

Marius cared not however, giving a slight wave as his reply. His horse stood while he glanced down to his companion.

"Get me the metal one. I want to teach this dog a lesson."

"As you wish master," replied the crimson armored woman, hefting up a solid iron rod.

It was tipped with wood. The dark prince drew up the weapon with one hand. It was heavy indeed, weighing down even the horse. His arm was taut, holding it steady. The prancing of the horse had resumed and they were barreling towards one another.

His gaze did not falter and Lamont was struck by the metal. It grinded for a moment. The armor was dented but he had clung onto his horse to keep from falling. Marius looked at his own frame, finding a shaft of wood sticking from the joint in his side.

He tore it out and blood-followed suit. A smirk filled his face and he cast it aside. There was no need to get another lance. A veil of red had fallen over the arena. The beast stamped while the demon waited.

The flag swam through the air and the wind stopped. The thunder of hooves echoed and the scream of metal against metal followed. Lamont lay upon the ground. The mud covered his once pristine armor.

"Marius is victorious!" shouted through the crowd.

***

The light was starting to waver and the sun had reached the horizon. Lance looked out across the short stretch of muddy ground. His green and red clad opponent had the face of a dragon. His helmet had fin like plumes cresting back from the sides.

"Let this be an honorable fight," waved Sir Farrell from the otherside.

"This will definitely be something to remember," replied the gardener.

"Win this time Papa!"

Lance lifted his spear tapping it against shield twice. His hand grasped the reigns and he was off. The world was narrow, as though only a sliver of it actually existed. His stare found the knight rushing twords him. He rose his pole aiming it for the chest.

To his disbelief Farrell twirled his lance and diverted the weapon away. The dragon struck hard. Lumber shattered and the gardener found himself looking up at the darkening sky.

He slowly and shakily rose to his feet. Blood dripped from his maw. The metal to his side had dented in. Splinters lay all around. His horse had returned to his side and Lance lifted himself on its back.

He returned to his side and was handed another, "Keep it high but when he draws near aim for his visor," whispered a voice.

Lance looked about not seeing anyone. He thought about if for a moment more before trotting out. The chestnut beast lunged forward. He did as he was told keeping the lance high in the air. They drew closer and closer until he shoved it down. A loud crunch sounded and metal sparked. Lumber snarled and both men lay upon the ground.

"Papa! Papa! Are you ok?" cried the girl in the stands.

There was no cheering. The crowd was whispering. The gardener stood far faster than the knight, who gradually got to his feet. Farrell rubbed his head, he pulled a chunk of timber from the side of his visor. It was coated red.

"Good show!" Said the knight, walking off the blow.

Lance lifted himself back aboard his horse, as did his opponent. They trotted back to their sides. After another moment they were set against one another yet again.

The roar of the crowd arose and the two rode out to meet the other. The gardener did as he had before. However Farrell was doing something strange. His spear was off to the side straight across from him. Lance swung down and found the other wooden rod sweeping up. They collided and hit the other away.

The lumber bounced down and struck him in the chest. The impact jarred his bones and squeezed out his breathe. The world went black.

***

Lance fell to the ground and Farrell kept going. His spear snapped in half and tossed away. The revelry above sung but the gardener did not stir. He was drug from the field. Lilly wailed every step of the way down to the staging area below.

"Lamont has forfeited this round. We shall now proceed with the final match!" Said Vance.

Marius rode out of the gate taking his side. Sir Farrell pranced back into position. He glared at the demon and eyes of equal malice were returned.

His green metal hands held the reigns close. He lifted the lance into place and proceeded. The hooves pounded the ground while the dark prince swiftly approached. A light glared down and Farrell shielded his eyes. The sun gleamed so harshly just before it set. The punch of the shaft went through him and he fell from the horse.

He spat blood and clawed his way back onto his steed. The horse reared and trampled back to his side of the arena. It pawed the ground impatiently. It frothed at the mouth chomping on the bit.

A flag waved and the world swirled by. His weapon lowered and his stance was solid. They collided and neither gave an inch. The ebon prince fought to control his beast, as it reared and snarled from the impact. His hands clapped over its ears and it stopped its protests.

Sir Farrell felt light and the world seemed fuzzy. Blood seeped from his side but he did not care. The instrument of valor was lifted high and the flag waved once more.

Everything moved at a snail's pace. Destiny crept closer and closer with ever thumping step. The horses galloped onward, always moving forward. The lance lowered into striking distance and the knight saw the very moment of impact.

The dark prince toppled and fell from his horse. The emerald and ruby color man lowered his hand and the his opponent took it.

"It is a tie! So the next round will determine the winner!" Shouted the herald.

The horses stamped as though feeling the anxiety of their masters. Both reared and the two flung forward. Farrell felt so alive. His heart thumped and wavered. His frame was rigid. The weapon came to bear and the thunderous crack of wood snapping rose. Both men were staggered but neither fell.

The flags waved and the herald announced, "Sir Farrell is the winner, six points to five!"
The two combatants gave a nod to each other and left the arena. The crowd screamed and the event was over.