Sir Aldric Violetheart's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Sir Aldric Violetheart rode into the empty tournament field with no one behind him. His blue armor caught the gray light. Purple feathers drooped on his helmet, damp from the morning fog. He wanted an order of knights whose colors would rival any royal house. But an order needs knights, and he had none. His purple horse stamped the mud, and the sound echoed off the old fences. He drew the rainbow sword and held it up. Every color slid across the blade at once. He had carried it for a year, sure that its glory would draw fighters to him. But there were no fighters here. Just weathered posts and torn banners from tournaments long dead. He had chosen this ground on purpose. A grand field once meant grand champions. Now it meant weeds. "You look like a fool waving that thing at grass." The voice came from the far fence. An old man leaned on a long axe, watching him. White armor, gray beard, a red scar down one cheek. Sir Aldric knew him at once. Gareth Ironhelm. The master who had trained him. The master who had once thrown him in the mud a hundred times before dawn. "I hoped you would come," Aldric said. "I came to laugh." Gareth pushed off the fence and crossed the field. He tapped the mud with his axe head. "No knights. No banners worth the cloth. You dreamed too big, boy." Aldric lowered the sword. "I have colors no house can match. I only lack the men." Gareth stopped close. His eyes were hard, but his mouth twitched. "Men don't follow colors. They follow proof." He nodded at the ring of old fences. "You want fighters? Then earn them the old way. Hold a tournament. Right here. Beat the ones who come, and they'll kneel." "No one will come to a dead field for an unknown knight." "They'll come if I send them." Gareth shifted the axe to his shoulder. "I train squires. Rough boys. Rival houses want them next spring. Give me a reason, and I'll send them here to you first." Aldric's grip tightened on the rainbow hilt. "What reason?" "Prove you can still fight." Gareth swung the axe down and set it between them. "Me. Now. If you can hold your ground against an old man, I'll believe you can hold an order." Aldric slid off his horse. His boots sank in the mud. He raised the shining sword, and its light spilled across Gareth's white armor. They circled. Gareth struck first, fast for his age. Aldric caught the axe on his blade. Steel screamed. He twisted, shoved, and drove the old man back two steps. Gareth grinned through his beard. He lowered the axe. "Good enough." He wiped his brow. "The squires arrive in three days. But hear me, boy. My best fighter already swore to a royal house. If you want the rest, you'll have to take him from them first."