-Clang-
With a dull roar, Leben and Sallin charged past each other beyond the barrier.
The two knights on horseback staggered but quickly turned, raising their helmet visors and gesturing mutual praise with their hands.
The two knights returned to their positions where their banners hung, replacing the Reich decorations at the ends of their lances.
And then came the second clash.
At the center of the arena, the tips of the two lances met, scattering fragments of broken lances around them.
Some large wooden splinters flew toward the audience, but thanks to the mana stone devices installed on the walls surrounding the arena to protect the spectators, the shards of the broken lances couldn't escape outside.
The third clash.
The knight with the hawk emblem raised a lance painted in blue with a golden lion crest. The knight with the purple iris emblem picked up a lance unpainted in base but adorned with a purple iris, and charged toward the hawk knight alongside Leska.
The lance with the purple iris shattered, once again sending fragments dancing like decorations over the stage where the two knights rode.
As the hawk knight swayed violently, nearly falling from his horse, the restless voices of the crowd echoed through the arena.
From the northern seats, Ratak stood up, his loud shout startling Baron Lizton nearby.
Fortunately, Sallin raised a clenched fist to signal to the audience that he was unharmed.
And the match proceeded to the fourth clash.
Leben and Sallin aimed the tips of their lances at each other and charged forward. The rough breathing of their horses could be heard.
The metallic crash resounded in the arena.
Almost simultaneously, the sound of lances breaking upon hitting the opponents' shields followed.
Leben's shield fell to the arena floor. He had tried to deflect Sallin's lance by twisting its direction, but Leben's plan failed.
Sallin's steadfast attack, boldly blocking with his shield head-on and thrusting his lance powerfully, had overcome Leben's experience.
At both ends of the arena stood assistants to aid the joust's progress. Normally, the squires of the participating knights would bring replacement lances for the broken ones, wipe the horses' sweat with dry cloths, or straighten dented shields to make them usable again briefly. Today, Reave and Kein had volunteered to serve as squires for Leben and Sallin, performing those roles.
Reave picked up Leben's shield from the arena floor and extended it toward Leben, who was catching his breath atop Leska.
"It's not too badly dented, thankfully. Here..."
"Ha... ha. Thanks for picking it up... but I don't think I can hold it, Reave."
From inside Leben's helmet, rough, heaving breaths reached Reave's ears. And what caught his eye was a shard of lance, stained red with blood, embedded in Leben's shoulder.
Blood droplets trickled down Leben's limp left arm.
-Neigh! Snort. Snort snort-
"It's alright, Leska. It's not that big a wound."
Leben soothed Leska by stroking her neck, then handed Reave the lance he was holding and pulled out the shard from his shoulder.
"Ugh! Reave. I think I'll need something to wipe the blood. Pass that over."
Leben dropped the bloodstained lance shard to the ground and spoke to Reave, who was holding a white cloth to wipe Leska's sweat.
"Ah! Yes!! But are you sure you're okay? The wound..."
"Hahaha! It's nothing. In jousting, it's a common injury, so don't worry too much."
As he wrapped the cloth Reave handed him around his shoulder, it gradually turned red.
Reave watched Leben, who closed his eyes briefly to steady his breathing, with worried eyes.
"Alright then, I'm off. Hand me the lance!"
Leben exhaled a long breath and opened his eyes. He returned the cloth pressed to his shoulder to Reave, took the new lance Reave brought, and prepared to charge forward with Leska.
"Now~! It's the fifth clash! Let us all watch and see which knight the goddess Awen will bless!"
The master of the lists shouted, his voice booming through the arena as he hurriedly turned his head left and right to confirm both knights at opposite ends were ready.
Perhaps due to shouting loudly through the fifth clash, the end of the master of the lists' voice cracked, as if he was straining to squeeze words into the magical device in his hand.
The tension-building drumbeats mixed with the cheers of the crowd directed at the two knights. And with the massive horn blast that made the audience's hearts thrum, the hoofbeats of the horses charging toward each other followed.
*****
"How do you think it'll go?"
Diaro, seated in the spacious southern stands of the arena, watched the purple iris knight and hawk knight return after the fourth clash and asked Dranza sitting beside him.
"The hawk knight, maybe...? From what we've seen so far, that one's steadiness on horseback seems superior."
"Is that so? That purple iris knight showed quite skilled prowess too... It's hard to believe he's a wandering knight."
"Huh? That comment just now! Isn't that disparaging all the wandering knights across the continent who wander in search of a lord to pledge loyalty to~? Does the House Diat have the confidence to withstand the backlash from all the wandering knights?"
Dranza asked Diaro in a playful, teasing tone.
"That's not what I meant. I just meant it's hard to believe a wandering knight, who can't properly practice for jousting, could have such skill."
"Huh? Uh... yeah. I knew that! It was a joke, haha haha."
Diaro casually brushed off Dranza's jesting jab and turned his gaze back to the arena preparing for the fifth clash.
"Hmm... The purple iris knight might have it tougher..."
"Why? What's up? Ah..."
Reacting to Diaro's words, Dranza scanned the two knights at opposite ends of the arena, his gaze stopping at the spot with the iris emblem.
"It's a lance shard. It's hard to dodge fragments flying when the lance breaks, after all..."
"Whoa! He pulled it out. That was a pretty big shard. Is the wound bad enough he can't even lift his shield?"
Dranza stood up from his seat for a better look at Leben pulling out the shard and pressing a white cloth to his shoulder.
Soon, the master of the lists' voice announced the start of the fifth clash.
"Both of you, do your best!"
From somewhere, Nia's voice rang out, cheering for both knights, Leben and Sallin.
*****
There's a saying that arose from the dwarven kingdom's soldiers praising the horse-riding prowess of Kirvia's cavalry.
"Man and horse as one.(人馬一體)" It describes a person and horse moving in perfect harmony as partners. Beyond the horse merely following the rider's intent, it's about anticipating each other's will in any direction, knowing where to direct the gaze, the perfect timing to leap, even the swish of the tail—all aligning with the rider's intent. That's the pinnacle of horsemanship as the dwarves described it.
Such a pinnacle of horsemanship was about to unfold in the arena of Ves-Dinas, a city in the western Esteta kingdom of the continent.
"Just this once... Please, just this one time..."
Leben muttered to himself, his gaze fixed through the narrow visor of his helmet on Sallin approaching from afar beyond the barrier, lance aimed, mounted on his horse.
Forgetting the pain in his shoulder, Leben focused so intently that he could feel every step Leska took beneath him.
Was it due to the shoulder wound, or because unlike usual matches, he'd been atop Leska with lance in hand five times now? The lance felt heavier than usual.
Leben asked himself.
'Do I have the talent to claim the glory of victory in this joust against Viscount Orid right before my eyes?'
He couldn't answer his own question. Though he'd lived long as a wandering knight, he'd never thought himself talented. He always believed that his weapon against others' talents was merely the effort honed over long years and the will not to break under trials.
'Just once. Awaken now, more desperately than ever. If there's any talent hidden within the efforts I've polished inside me, awaken!'
-Snort. Snort snort-
Leska's heaving breaths reached Leben's ears. And now, Sallin appeared even closer.
The long tips of the lances drew nearer toward their aimed targets.
Leap. Not like jumping over an obstacle, Leska pushed off the ground strongly with all four legs in a different motion.
It was a forward leap rather than upward. Leska's clever intent to make the tip of the lance held by Leben on Leska's back reach just a bit faster—and Leben, sensing the intent, timed it perfectly, twisting his right shoulder to thrust. The lance grazed the edge of Sallin's shield and struck his armor.
-Crash-
With the sound of the lance breaking, scattering shards came into view, and before Leben's eyes was Sallin losing balance and falling from his horse.
Thunderous cheers shook the arena.
Applause and cheers rained down like a storm, mingled with white and red flower petals showering over the arena.
Basking in the floral downpour from above, Leben removed his helmet, pulled the reins, and turned around.
The master of the lists' voice echoed through the arena, announcing Leben's victory and offering praise.
"Phew... Thankfully, he doesn't seem hurt."
In Leben's view was Sallin, standing up, removing his helmet, and waving at him.
With a sigh of relief, Leben dismounted Leska and approached Sallin.
"Are you alright, Viscount Orid?"
"It hurts."
"Pardon? Are you injured?"
"No wounds, but my whole body aches."
The applause and crowd's voices were so loud that the two knights' words didn't carry, so they exaggerated their lip movements to converse.
"Congratulations."
"My thanks. It was but the favor of fortune."
"First, get that shoulder wound treated. In the meantime, I have something to say to the people gathered here."
After offering congratulations to Leben, Sallin strode toward the master of the lists, who was shouting about the match's outcome with veins bulging in his neck, and gestured with one hand extended, asking for the magical device in his grasp.
"This is the knight of the hawk emblem, who was just bested by the valiant knight before us."
As Sallin's voice boomed from the magical device in the arena, the cheers from the stands gradually subsided.
"Did you enjoy the match? Looking at your expressions, it's a relief to see some faces regretting this Sallin Orid's defeat."
Sallin scanned the faces of the various spectators in the arena, speaking with a cheerful smile.
In the stands were many knights gathered to watch the match's outcome.
There was a knight in silver armor with golden decorations, one with a lion crest on his shield, and another with colorful feathers on his helmet.
Yet another wore red armor, his banner vividly displaying a flame-shaped emblem.
Several female knights were present too. They donned armor with elegant yet fierce poise, proudly displaying their unique emblems to those around them.
From the stands came voices consoling Sallin, as well as those expressing frustration over the regrettable outcome.