A King's Legacy Chapter 1: Natural at Selection
Byron Aschefell steadily made his way down the hall of the tucked away inn on his way to see his son the morning of the big day. The old wolf paused for a moment to brace himself against the wall and catch his breath, shifting his weight from his bad leg and relaxing the grip on his cane. The morning chill was hard on old wounds, and even the most powerful healing magic has it's limits. That only slowed a warrior like himself down for a moment though, as he let out a gruff `hmmph,' and pushed himself from the wall, pacing steadily onward towards his young son's room.
Stahl Aschefell, the son in question, was gazing absent-mindedly out of the second story window of the inn when he heard his father's knock. His mind pulled from his daydream as he swung his head towards the door and called out to his visitor.
"It's open." The brass handle turned and the door was pushed inward as the younger wolf watched his father slowly shuffle in. The young wolf frowned a bit, just as he always seemed to these days when seeing such a once mighty warrior now struggle to even walk without a limp. It had been nearly two years since his father was injured, but Stahl had had a harder time adjusting to the injury than Byron himself... Perhaps because his father had lost something even more precious to him during that battle.
"Nervous?" The old knight questioned as he grew closer, obviously referencing the look upon his son's face. The younger wolf just turned back towards his window and answered confidently, "Not even a little. Even before I put two years of service in the army under my belt, I was already better than most swordsmen twice my age. Now? Well, I can't imagine I'd be up against too many that could fend me off in a one-on-one match long enough to bag a win... Some, perhaps, but not many." The young gray wolf finished his boasting just as his father took his side and closed his eyes, joining his son at basking in the warmth of the sunrise for a peaceful moment before chastising his foolish comment. "Don't underestimate an opponent you haven't met yet, my son, or any opponent for that matter."
Stahl simply rolled his eyes a bit and agreed with the older wolf. "Yeah, I know. But honestly, are you worried?" The knight grinned a bit, the tip of his fang poking out of the corner of the smirk on his muzzle as he answered promptly and smoothly. "Not even a little."
Stahl found himself still just a bit awestruck any time he visited the Selection Grounds, and this time seemed no different in that regard. It was hard not to be impressed. The Selection Grounds were built upon a lush green meadow, the spring had swept in the week prior and gifted thick patches of wildflowers around the perimeter of the circular stone structure, wafting a pleasant scent into the surrounding area. The structure itself was mostly a tan marble, with rivers of golden copper melted in to mortar the breaks between slabs. The circle formed by the marble was multiple layered, with a stair-like design for seating. There were large rectangular platforms scattered about, isolated above the stair seating by about ten feet or so. Noble seating. At the far end, across from the entry arch, sat the royal platform. It was the highest point of the structure, and the largest area. This was for the king, knights, and his honored guests. The stadium and the Selection brought quite a crowd to the kingdom of Alora.
The young wolf passed through the entry, and continued straight to the center of the arena. There were six tables laid out in a circle upon the center of the raised earth arena. Stahl knew from coming to see the event as a pup with his father that this was where you officially registered to take part in the Selection, so he made his way over and spoke to a knight assisting with the process. He was registered easily enough. The coyote taking his information made a remark about a lot of big family name's being present this year to Stahl, to which the wolf simply shrugged in response. Stahl was not a fan of many nobles, even being one himself.
After registration was over, the wolf made his way to the ground level seating reserved for participants. The reserved area was more than accommodating enough for the amount of entries each year, so the wolf took a seat on the bottom left section where only a few stragglers were scattered. Stahl placed his hands behind his head, leaned back, and began idly observing the entries still registering while he waited for the show to start.
Jagón Venatus, the proud black panther knight, was gathered among other notable knights, warriors, and guests upon the royal platform at the Selection Grounds. The sound of small talk lingered all around him as old allies greeted and new faces made their introductions. Jagón had had enough of the greetings, and was already seated, impatiently awaiting for the event to begin. As much as he didn't want to be present, observing the warriors who would be joining him and who he would be responsible for training in the Elite King's Guard through the Selection was an important duty.
"You're bouncing your foot again, Mr. Serious." The teasing voice was immediately recognized by the panther, who internally groaned a bit about the overly chipper cat it belonged to before stopping his foot to look up at the mage leaning over him against the back of his chair. "Good morning to you too, Alice." The calico cat beamed down mischievously at the panther and left him with a wink before moving on in her mission of annoying the entire kingdom before noon. Jagón watched her skirt away before locking eyes with Sir Byron Aschefell, the gray wolf. (Well, more silver and white in his years these days.) Jagón nodded in his direction in acknowledgement and the old knight smiled and nodded back. Jagón may have been a bit antisocial, but he still paid his respects to all of his past teachers. Besides, seeing the wolf actually out was a rare treat since he had lost both his oldest son, and the ability to fight nearly two years prior.
A thunderous boom sounded across the stadium. "Finally," the panther mumbled to himself. The Selection would begin in ten minutes. Jagón felt a grip on his right shoulder and turned to see his king staring straight ahead. The knight immediately stood and then kneeled. "My king."
The lion scoffed and dismissed the panther with a wave of his hand, turning to address him, "Please Jagón, spare me the formality. I don't know how much more of it I can stand today." The two big cats locked eyes and, after a moment, briefly chuckled. They both were quite tired of discussing politics in their years. The king took his seat beside the panther. Before either of them had time to speak much else, Alice seemingly appeared out of nowhere and took the seat opposite of Jagón beside the king. When she spoke, her sugar-baked tone made both grumpy old warriors wince a bit.
"Seems to be an interesting group this year. Maybe we will get a good show." The cat said enthusiastically.
"I'm sure the turnout will be roughly the same as always. We will gain a few prospecting new knights to train, and you'll gain some new victims to torment." Jagón spoke gruffly. King Alocer chuckled a bit. Those two were always taking shots at each other. He suspected it was just Alice's way of keeping the knight on his toes.
Alice, as unflinching as ever, only paused for a moment, and tilted her head as if in ignorance of what he could be implying. She gazed blankly at the knight for a moment before picking back up where she left off.
"Tease all you want, but I've heard by reliable sources that this year may just throw us quite the unexpected ringer."
"Reliable sources?" the panther questioned, raising one brow as he did so.
"My gut." The playful cat winked, and darted off once again into the crowd. Both the king and the knight looked at each other worriedly, Alice was many things, and undoubtedly a mystery, but her instincts were dangerously sharp. The lifelong friends spoke in unison, using a tone that made it sound as if they were spitting out bitter poison.
"Fuck."
Stahl was getting pretty bored waiting for the games to begin. He had sized up most of his competition already, and didn't find anyone too worrisome save for a handful of big house names. The pairings were random, but a bad match-up early on was costly. The Selection happened once every year in Alora, at the beginning of spring. Any warrior from age 20-24 was eligible to participate, regardless of their upbringing, for a total of 5 maximum chances to pass the Selection in a lifetime. Stahl was 22, 23 in the summer. If he failed this year, he would only have two more chances. This wasn't, however, because he had failed before. This was his first time attempting the process. He enlisted into the army at 20, and served two years beforehand. What had made him try for the Elite Guard this time around was simple. He was worried about his father, who was nearly on his 60th year, and wanted more time at home with his family. The Guard was an easy way to make sure he would stay stationed in the capitol.
Shortly after the sound of thunder echoed through the stadium, signaling that the time was growing near, Stahl's attention was snagged by a very peculiar looking entry heading towards the seating. There weren't any dress restrictions for competing in the Selection, but nobody in their right mind would attempt it with anything on that could restrict their movements... Certainly not crazy enough to fight in whatever exactly this particular entrant was wearing.
For starters, he was small. The average beastman height was around 7 feet. Stahl himself was 7 foot 6. The creature before him was a hair under 6 feet. Even more astounding was the daunting wardrobe. The creature's entire upper body and arms were covered with a cloth wrap, small bits of fur stuck out of certain spots where the bandages met, giving the wardrobe a lumpy and prickly appearance. The entrant had on basic tan trousers, but also had on leather boots. Most beastmen fought barefooted, as their paws were suited to it, and for balancing during a fight. Boots were mainly used by workers under certain conditions that called for them. As if that made little enough sense, the whole cherry on top was whatever the weird helm was supposed to be. It looked almost like some kind of long skull, like that of a horse, but the wrap extended over it, seemingly to secure it in place. The creature's eyes remained hidden behind their mask, just as any visible part of their body was also hidden behind the wrap, save for the extruding tufts of fur scattered about. The guy looked absolutely ridiculous to the wolf, and pretty much everyone else who had noticed the peculiar entry. All Stahl could assume at this point was it was some kind of mangled rodent under there. It would explain the bandages and the height.
The beast walked towards the participant seating and veered to the left, choosing a spot only a few feet away from the wolf. Seemed the weirdo was a loner too. `Big surprise,' The young wolf thought to himself. Still, his curiosity was getting the better of him. Whatever the thing was supposed to be, Stahl found himself quite affixed on the warrior, and an odd curiosity towards it.
The stadium was packed by now, the murmuring of individuals grew to become a colossal sea of voices that carried a low rumble over the arena. The entry period was closed, and final preparations were under way. The crowd and fighters were growing restless, however, all fell silent as the mages began their groundwork for kicking off the event. A circle of clouds began forming over the arena, it grew in size until all of the seating areas were cloaked in a heavy shade. The center of the arena remained bright, and illuminated by the sunlight through the hole in the clouds. Two mages on either side of the king's platform released bolts of light, striking the runes engraved into the marble walls, which in turn lit up, signaling the magic was functioning. King Alocer stood from his seat, and took a few paces forward before his thunderous voice, amplified by the runes, bellowed into the arena.
"Welcome, guests, spectators, and of course our participants, to this year's Selection." The crowd roared in response, (quite literally,) before the king continued. "As you all know, our purpose here today is to determine the most worthy of warriors to join my own Elite King's Guard. We have well over 400 brave soldiers vying for a place at the top this year, but as you all know, only around 20 will make it through. The rules are simple, using a random pairing system, each warrior is assigned to a match. A warrior may advance as long as they win, and are even allowed a single loss to offset any unfair advantages the pairings may bring, However, if an entrant loses a second match, they are disqualified and will be removed from the tournament. The first two preliminary rounds will take place today, four separate one-on-one battles at the same time. We will pick back up with round 3 tomorrow when things start to get interesting. When the number of participants is estimated to drop below a certain percentage remaining, the battles will halt at the end of the current round. The final two rounds will be held the following morning to determine our top 20 or so victors." The lion took a breath while the crowd surged. A moments later, he picked back up.
"The rules are as follows: 1. Weapons chosen to be used shall be enchanted with a bluntness spell to prevent inflicting fatal blows with them. If you kill your opponent through any means, you will be banned from participating ever again, and likely tried for murder depending on the circumstances. 2. You win your match by knocking your opponent unconscious, throwing them off of the ring platform, forcing them to yield, or by scoring a certain amount of points on them by landing attacks. 3. Any attacks using anima magic will result in your disqualification for that round. The utilization of bloodskills are allowed, but limited to once per match. 4. If a contestant is found to be receiving fighting aid from anyone in any form during their match, they will be immediately disqualified and removed. 5. In the result of a tie, it will count as a loss for whichever fighter was ranked higher at the time, and a win for the lower ranked." King Alocer raised his hands high, and spoke the final part with heavy enthusiasm, "And with that, let's get this year's Selection underway!" The crowd erupted into a frenzied cheer as the King took his seat, and the much anticipated event officially kicked off.
Stahl was disappointed in his first match. He went up against a boar that didn't have an ounce of balance or grace in his entire body, and swiftly made his points, securing the win and returning to his seat within two minutes. The young wolf wasn't complaining, but he wanted to have some kind of fun the first round. He didn't even have to really try at all...
"Levice Ripscas. Mortum Ambula." The weird creature a few feet away from Stahl stood after the judge called out the names. Apparently, this guy was either Levice, or Mortum. Stahl found himself watching curiously as the odd thing was met on the stage by a lizard. The lizard only had a few inches height advantage on the weird one, but this would probably be the best matchup the little guy would be getting as far as weight went. While the lizard was armed with a dual-faced axe, the other beast only came into battle with a simple, plain, metal rod. No pointy ends on it. No style, engravings, or design to the thing. Just... A metal stick. Stahl grunted, annoyed by his expectations shattering. `Well, that's boring. There goes my entertainment for the day.' The wolf let out a sigh of disappointment.
"May the superior reign. Fight!" The judge for their match dropped his hand, signaling the official beginning of the match to the fighters. The lizard quickly drew his limbs in, narrowing his stance by doing so, and propelled himself forward. The odd beast, however, made no move, only held his relaxed stance with both hands on his staff as he gripped it vertically on his right side akin to how one would hold a walking stick. The lizard tightened his grip on the hilt of his axe and moved it to the left, preparing to swing right as he closed the gap between the fighters. "He's leaving himself wide open like that," Stahl mumbled to himself, mere moments before the lizard was in range. The next turn of events happened within a span of two seconds, catching more than just the wolf by surprise. The lizard lunged forward, closing in for his strike, and swung right. The beast took a single step back with his right foot, pivoted on his left heel, raised his staff horizontally just a hair above his chest, and lunged forward, perfectly spearing the charging, sidestepped lizard directly on his skull's temple. The reptile's eyes rolled into the back of his skull and his tongue flopped out the side of his mouth as his body first seized up, and then crashed to the ground limp. The very arena shook from the roars.
Stahl sat up a bit in interest as the odd thing came walking back over to his seat. It was a good move, he's pulled off similar himself, but that required precision. Where the wolf would've struck the midsection, the beast instead exploited a weak spot to compensate for his weight disadvantage, should he have missed, he would have likely lost on the backswing of the axe. The beast sat back down in the same place, resting his staff on his right side. The gray wolf eyed the beast that was now simply looking down at his own boots casually for a moment before he decided to finally speak to it.
"Nice move. Where'd you learn it?" The wolf received no response, not even acknowledgement that he had said anything at all, so he repeated himself, a hair louder this time, eliciting a slight jump from the beast as he looked towards the wolf.
"Thanks, uh. Sorry, people don't usually talk to me so I kind of didn't realize you were." Stahl found himself a bit surprised this monster could even talk at all, but asked his question a third time anyway. "Don't sweat it. So where'd you learn to fight?" The wolf raised an eyebrow at the strange creature. "Oh, um. Watching mostly. Older brother." The creature looked away uncomfortably. Stahl didn't buy that for a second, but he wasn't going to press the issue. Yet. "Did you get injured?" The wolf asked, gesturing at the bandages. "Huh? Oh! Just a rash..." The beast was dying of embarrassment beneath his cover, wishing he'd picked a better excuse.
"Riiight. Right. So uh... What about the weird helm then? That can't be helpful in battle." Stahl wasn't backing down quite yet.
"...It's an heirloom." The wolf could hear the exasperation in the thing's voice, so he wouldn't press anymore for now. Still... He needed to say something.
"You know, you're pretty damn weird, but you're good at fighting too, so... I like it." The wolf offered up a smirk with his compliment, his fang peeking out of the corner of his smile the same way his father's tends to. The creature just stared at the gray wolf in response, and, even though any expression was covered by the helm, Stahl couldn't help but get the feeling it was smiling under there.
Both young warriors won their respective second matches, and returned the following day to continue their challenge. Only, perhaps sitting a bit closer to each other this time.
Chapter 3, coming soon. Feedback and such always appreciated. Thanks y'all.