Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-24510587-20170621000455/@comment-10906938-20170623200701

10th of Sun's Dawn

Ignoring the hot sand burning the soles of his feet, Willen of Daggerfall studied his opponent. The man before him was stronger, and faster, and in prime condition. The King knew, though, that his son wouldn't fight to win. ''He's going to go easy on me... Damned fool is too much like his damned mother! I'll give him some urgency!''

As the duel's witness planted a spear into the ground to signal the start of the fight, both combatants inched closer. The crowd was silent-- confused as to why this was happening, but eager for a new king-- as they watched the arena's main event.

Willen began with a wild cut, easily blocked by Henri. Upon seeing no counterstroke, Willen snarled. He launched another hasty swing aimed at the prince's neck, again easily diverted, but followed it with a punch to the nose. Blood stained the white tunic of the prince and the fine sand of the arena.

Henri regarded his father with cold blue eyes. He then drove his sword toward his father's torso, which was paried and answered with a kick to the groin. Henri's face tightened, and the crowd gasped. ''Is the King mad? Henri's the last of the line! He could've extinguished his line!''

If it was a fight the King insisted on, it was a fight he must be given.

As a 72-year old man, Henri estimated his father must be nearing the end of his strength. He then took the offensive, making thrust after thrust to wear the king down. That ended as the last block turned into a slice across Henri's chest, drawing a thin red line that quickly became thicker. What had started as a game to save his father's face was starting to look like real combat.

But Henri had a reputation of his own. He had been a charismatic cavalry commander. As a teenager he fought and defeated soldiers from Daggerfall and abroad, and was highly regarded as a swordsman. This was not a good showing for him.

The king took a jab at his torso, which Henri sidestepped and brought the hilt of his blade down onto his father's wrist. The old man groaned, but took another lunge at Henri's face. The prince swung with all his might, his sword arcing above him and intercepting his father's. The blade was sent spinning into the audience, landing in an aisle only to be pounced upon by a group of children.

Henri paused, blood running down his thighs, raised his falcata, and stepped toward his father. Instead of backing off, the King stepped forward as well, impaling himself on the blade and delivering one last punch to his son's face. Henri released his grip on the handle of his weapn and kicked his father into the sand. Cheers-- albeit partially confused ones-- errupted from the crowd. There were rumors that the king had abused his son, so this event seemed like final justice.

Henri walked off the arena floor, and was briefly tended to by healers. The cut he recieved started a few inches below his right armpit and extended to his left collarbone. Quite the scar.

That night, a funeral was held for the deceased king. A few tears were weapt, but not many.

11th of Sun's Dawn

The next morning, Henri rode through a wide boulevard lined by soldiers and citizens. His White Lance corps rode behind him, wearing enamled white breastplates and helmets with gold details. Henri wore the opposite-- a golden breastplate and helmet with a white horsehair crest. He dismounted, and ascended to the platform assembled in the city plaza. This was his long-awaited coronation, so they made sure it was well furnished.

The ceremony didn't feel long at all for Henri, who spent most of it replaying the fight in his head. The surreal feeling hadn't worn off yet. It sure didn't wear off faster when Henri knelt, was anointed, and was given his crown. It was a circlet inset with gems in the color of their flag.

After the ceremony, the city partied. The soldiers, however, were not allowed to get drunk. "Busy day tomorrow" their commanders promised.