Binky McFearsome's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

The morning after Quillsworth's arrest, Binky stepped onto the sand of the Champion Grand Stadium. The stands roared. Banners snapped overhead. One hundred warriors waited to face him over three days, and Aldric Tournefield watched from his high seat, jeweled staff in hand, eyes fixed on the dwarf who shrugged off knives. The first warrior charged with a hammer. He swung at Binky's chest. The hammer bounced off like it struck stone. Binky blinked, then flicked the man in the shoulder. The warrior sailed backward and landed in the dirt. The crowd gasped, then cheered. Binky did not know how to fight. He only knew he could not be hurt. So he stood still and let each warrior tire himself out. Swords snapped. Spears bent. Fists cracked against his jaw and did nothing. When his enemy panted and staggered, Binky gave one gentle push, and down they went. By dusk the first day, twenty warriors lay beaten. Binky helped each one up and dusted them off. "Sorry, friend," he told them. "No hard feelings." The crowd loved him for it. They chanted his name. The second day passed the same way. Forty more warriors fell. Binky's red hair grew matted with sweat, but not a bruise marked him. High above, Aldric Tournefield leaned forward. He whispered to a tournament master beside him. He was counting something, watching for a trick. On the third day, the last warriors came in a rush, five at once. They pinned Binky's arms and drove blades into his back. The blades folded. Binky flexed and shook them loose. He tapped each man once. Five bodies tumbled to the sand. Silence. Then the whole stadium erupted. One hundred warriors, beaten. Binky stood alone in the center, arms raised, grinning like a boy. Aldric Tournefield descended the long stairs. His purple robe dragged the sand. He climbed onto a small platform and lifted the jeweled staff. "Warriors!" he called. "People of the realm! I name Binky McFearsome your champion!" He set a gold circlet on Binky's brow. The crowd threw flowers. But the Maester bent close, and his smile was thin. "No man wins a hundred fights untouched," he murmured. "Not by skill. You've hidden something from me, champion. Enjoy your crown today. Tomorrow I open an inquiry." He straightened and waved to the cheering stands, all warmth again. Binky's stomach dropped. He held the crown he had wanted his whole life. And the one man who could take it all away had just promised to dig for the truth.