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"I see," said the King. "In any case, the tournament in Brighton that I am speaking of is perhaps different from what you might be imagining." Before continuing, he seemed to catch himself, and then smirked. "Then again, perhaps it is exactly what you, of all people, would imagine."

Hector cocked an eyebrow at that. "What do you mean by that?"

"Heh. Because it is a knight's tourney."

Hector was unsurprised. Of course it was. Was there any other kind of tournament three hundred years ago? Well, on second thought, Hector supposed it could've been one of those super old sports for rich people, like polo or something.

Oh, but this was what the King meant, wasn't it? That he, of all people, would already be imagining it correctly.

Hmm.

"In terms of physical prowess, I am sure this tournament pales in comparison to those featuring the monstrous knights of Intar or Sair," said the King, "but I feel it is nonetheless still an event of virtually incomparable importance where the history of Atreya is concerned.

"Charles, of course, is not a knight, so he does not personally participate, but at the beginning of the tournament, he befriends one Paul Greenway, who does participate--and in spectacular fashion, no less.

"You see, Paul is one of many knights who support Domitrus, but they are still outnumbered by those who support Linus. As far as the Empire is concerned, the official prize of the tournament is merely coin and horses, but unofficially, there is a quiet agreement among the lords that whichever faction wins will be the one that they all rally behind in pursuit of independence.

"As you might imagine, this raises the stakes quite a bit. In particular, the melee is especially brutal, where over a dozen men are killed, and even more are wounded. There are rumors of sabotaging horses and equipment, rampant bribery, and even attempts to assassinate competitors while they sleep."

Hector was staring. "Holy crap..."