Chapter Four

There came a bellowing roar, the heated battle cry of a furious foe. Adam kept his nerve as his enemy brought his longsword down in an arcing swing. Perhaps he had hoped to break Adam’s guard through brute force. But that did not happen. Adam, though admittedly more inclined to the scholarly arts, had been forged by his father and elder brothers into a more than capable swordsman.

Even the youngest of the Castermans would not be felled so easily. Adam checked the blow with his shield, using his enemy’s momentum against him. Sending the man’s sword to the side, he allowed the full movement of his swing to play out, sapping the collision of blade and shield of a great portion of its might. Adam’s shield arm ached, but it was a dull ache. And the fight was not over.

His enemy snarled under his helm, annoyed. He tried for another swing, backhanded this time and aiming for Adam’s flank. Adam checked that blow as well, using quick strides to keep himself beyond the reach of his adversary’s longsword. Footwork kept men alive as much as their shields did, his brother Royce had once told him. 

Adam breathed steadily, his whole body tense under his plate and mail. Under his helm, it was warm and balmy like a summer’s day in the bogs. Surely his face was red and flushed, and Adam could feel that his hair was matted down with sweat. Tired he was, but still he felt the fire of battle. It burned deep within, sending his blood to a frothing boil. The hot blood of Casterman, Adam knew. 

Strong blood… From strong men…

Jen’s words rang in his head, louder even than the sound of ringing swords. And so Adam felt a spike of pride and vigor. He gripped the hilt of his longsword, his heart hammering in his chest.

His enemy spat a curse under his helm and lunged forward, thrusting his blade straight forward in an attempt to run Adam through. It was a desperate move. And a mistake.

With his blood up like it was, Adam could almost perceive his opponent moving in slow motion. And with his tempered mind racing, he acted quickly. Adam twisted his body so that his enemy’s sword pierced through empty air. It was the same as his bout with Damon Longbow, his enemy’s move leaving him overextended and completely vulnerable. 

Adam gave a bellowing cry of his own, driving the edge of his shield not into his opponent’s breastplate or into the face of his helm… But down onto the wrists of his steel-gloved hands. The other man grunted in pain, stumbling onto his knees as his longsword clattered onto the floor. Adam moved quickly, kicking the blade away. Then he leveled the point of his sword at the man’s neck and waited.

The sound of a trumpet horn blared behind Adam. The duel was over. The sound of the cheering crowds faded back into clarity, the deafening roars from the viewing stands filling Adam’s ears. The beat of the festive drums boomed around him, the bright lights of the arena’s high ceiling casting a warm glow over the traditional Ring of Battle. Adam almost felt bewildered by it all, having blocked out the crowds and the festivities when his bout had begun. 

Then a portly, bearded man marched into the center of the ring, standing between Adam and his opponent. He wore an old-style tunic of gold and red, the colors of the royal House Trevelyan - as well as the colors of this very college. The older man raised a silver scepter with rainbow colored streamers hanging from a golden, rounded end. Adam recognized the man as the official, appropriately dressed for such a throwback tournament.

“TRESTON HOLLIS OF HARKON ACADEMY HAS BEEN DISARMED!” The bearded man announced to the crowds in his booming voice. Then he pointed to Adam with the ceremonial silver. “ADAM CASTERMAN OF TREVELYAN INSTITUTE IS VICTORIOUS!”

The crowd roared. Even as the bookish sort, Adam could not deny the rush that came with victory. And the adoration of the crowd wasn’t something to scoff at, either. There really wasn’t anything that could match the elation of a hard won fight. 

Except perhaps the delight of more pleasant company, Adam thought wryly. He knew that Jen was among those cheering for him. And he knew that she’d want to celebrate his victory, much the same way they celebrated his class exemption.

Adam removed his helm and bowed towards his opponent, Treston Hollis. The swordsman Hollis rose to his feet and did the same. The young man looked of similar age to Adam, with short black hair and dark green eyes, though where Adam was clean-shaven, Hollis had dark stubble on his chin and jaw. His opponent kept an even expression, though Adam knew he must have felt disappointment. Adam had experienced his own share of losses and knew well enough the chagrin that came with being bested.

“You fought well.” Adam spoke genuinely, offering his hand. Hollis nodded and clasped Adam’s wrist, giving a firm shake.

“Likewise, Casterman.” Hollis said. Then he turned and retreated to his side of the ring, collecting his sword from the ground along the way.

Adam didn’t take it personally. Nobody liked to lose and Hollis acted as friendly as one could expect. The youngest Casterman took a deep breath and left the ring as well, the feeling of triumph beginning to settle in. He had just completed his third bout of the tourney… And collected his third victory as well.

The sight of Jen waiting at the bench, wearing her biggest, proudest smile, only sent Adam’s spirit soaring higher. The green beauty was bouncing on her feet, creating a spectacularly entrancing show for Adam - as well as any other red-blooded man who happened to catch an eyeful. Though dressed rather modestly in tight jeans and a Trevelyan college t-shirt, Jen cut a vision of womanly beauty. There was little that could be done to hide her more feminine aspects short of dressing her in steel plate. Not that Adam would ever want to hide Jen away.

She wasn’t wearing her hair in a braid on this day, instead letting her red locks tumble down her shoulders and back. With her lovely mane framing her face, Jen beamed at her boyfriend as he drew near. The she-orc closed the short distance herself before pulling him into a tight embrace, smashing her lips upon his. The smell of spiced apples filled his nostrils and he knew that she’d been using his scented soap. He returned her kiss readily, wrapping his arms around her waist - though he was careful not to poke her skin with his steel gauntlets. Some in the crowd behind them hooted and cheered and Adam felt his ears grow hot in turn. Or maybe that was because of Jen’s soft lips…

His lovely she-orc broke their kiss, giggling. She wrapped her arms around his neck, uncaring of the sweat that drenched his skin and hair. She held his gaze with her bright blue eyes, ever adoring.

“You wield a sword like you were born holding it.” Jen praised him, nuzzling her nose against his. Years back, Adam never would have guessed orcs could give such cute affection. Today, he was beyond happy that Jenakka G’Kalis demolished his preconceptions.

“My poor mother.” Adam jested, stealing another kiss from Jen. Her lips had never tasted so sweet. His girlfriend gave a happy hum before pulling away. Jen retreated towards the bench… And returned a moment later with two wooden mugs, white foam dribbling over the tops. The sweet aroma of honeybeer filled Adam’s nostrils and he then felt monumentally lucky that he landed a girl like Jen. Grinning ear to ear, Adam accepted his girlfriend’s gracious offering, taking one of the mugs. “I see you’re enjoying the festivities.”

“I’m simply partaking in your rich human culture, love.” Jen snickered, taking a gulp from her own mug and giving herself a mustache of foam. Laughing, she wiped it away and licked the foam from her fingers. Adam’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestive display. From the mirth in Jen’s eyes, he quickly deduced that the mug she was drinking likely wasn’t the first she’d had that day. But he couldn’t exactly fault her for enjoying the revelry of a throwback tourney.

Jen grabbed him by the arm and led him towards their seats. Together, they sat upon Adam’s ringside bench - just one of many reserved for swordsmen, their trainers, and their special guests. Adam had no trainer, but Jen acted more than decent as his moral support.

Adam sipped at his mug, letting the sweet, heavy flavor settle on his tongue. A nice refreshment for a weary soldier, but Adam likely wouldn’t finish it. At least, not until the tourney was over. He would keep engaging in bouts of single combat until he was eliminated or the last man standing. He needed his mind and senses unclouded if he was going to take the final victory. He took another sip, savored it, and set down his mug.

Jen, on the other hand, drained her mug of beer. Adam took the chance to catch his breath. Together they watched as two other young men took to the ring. One of the fighters was tall and thin, appearing slender even in his plate and mail. Over his gleaming armor, his surcoat was white stars on a blue field. Adam couldn’t place the fighter, but he did recognize the man’s opponent.

Standing across the man in blue was a shorter, wide-set fellow in dented armor and a surcoat of pale green. Emblazoned on both his back and chest were a pair of feathered wings. Adam knew then which man he’d be rooting for.

The bearded official returned to the center of the ring, raising his scepter high. 

“FOR THIS NEXT BOUT…” He boomed over the cheering crowd, presenting the two newest fighters. “DAMON LONGBOW OF TREVELYAN INSTITUTE FACES ROBERT THORNE OF STRICKLAND UNIVERSITY! MAY YOU BOTH PERFORM WITH HONOR!”

The two men raised their shields and blunted swords, awaiting the blaring of the starting trumpet.

“You’ve got this Longbow!” Adam shouted, hoping his voice carried over the noise of the drums and the cheering crowd. “Fight well!”

Then the trumpet sounded and the two opponents came together in a clashing of steel and wooden shields. It was a flurry of swings, lunges, and checked blows. Adam knew then that this was going to be a tough fight.

Jen leaned towards him, speaking into his ear. 

“Longbow?” She inquired, gesturing towards the fighting men with her mug of beer. “The one you’ve been training… Which one is he?”

“The one in green with the wings sigil.” Adam answered, keeping his eyes on the fight. He winced as Longbow checked a particularly vicious swing with his shield, just barely diverting the blow from his head. “Though I wouldn’t say I’ve been training him. Just some friendly sparring.”

I just hope that was enough to give Longbow the edge…

And as it turned out, it was. The bout continued for several minutes, the blunted swords ringing and wooden shields clattering, but eventually it came to a decisive end. The friendly sparring that Longbow faced with Adam had given him some extra stamina to work with. The looming Thorne, in spite of his height and expensive, shining armor, grew tired in the wake of their extended duel. It was likely he expected a swift victory. But the Longbow lad had learned to endure.

Adam hooted and hollered as his friend swatted away the slow and sluggish swings of his opponent’s sword. By now it was clear who was winning this bout, and the crowd was firmly on the side of the Winged Green. 

The fight was finished when Strickland had fallen to one knee, barely able to keep his sword up. Longbow stood firm, readying his own blade for a winning blow. The fighter from Strickland gripped the hilt of his sword tight in his gloved hand and for a moment Adam thought the man might have gained a second wind… But instead, he tossed his blunted sword onto the ring’s matted floor and let his shield tumble from his other hand.

The crowd, once again, roared. So too did Adam, rising from the bench. Jen joined him, hooting joyously. She didn’t even know Longbow the way he did, but Adam was jubilant for his friend’s victory and thus so was she. He really lucked out in landing her, Adam reaffirmed to himself.

The official once more took to the ring.

“ROBERT THORNE OF STRICKLAND UNIVERSITY YIELDS! DAMON LONGBOW OF TREVELYAN INSTITUTE IS VICTORIOUS!”

Adam made sure to give Longbow a clap on the shoulder as he returned to the home benches. The younger man was red-faced and his hair was matted with sweat, but Adam had never seen him happier. And Adam knew he had every right to be. To earn a victory on his first real tourney was no small thing.

Watching his friend retreat into the waiting hall, Adam felt Jen cozy up into his side. Feeling her hot breath on his ear sent a delightful shiver down his back. 

“You Trevelyan boys are looking good tonight.” She teased him, her voice sweet like honey.

“Just good? Not great?” Adam smirked, speaking with mock offense.

Jen gave a warm chuckle. She pressed a quick kiss to his neck, her tusks brushing gently across his skin. Admittedly, it was a much quicker way to get Adam’s blood up than a sword swinging towards his head.

“Let’s see you win this tourney first.” Jen purred, her voice low and full of delightful promise.

Adam hadn’t ever put much stock into the more macho mindset put forth by his forefathers, the warriors of old Stakaria… But once Jen had come into his life and started talking him up as if he were some conquering hero… Perhaps those long-dead men had been onto something. There was a certain fervor that came with being the top dog, Adam had figured out. A fiery vigor that didn’t quite make him happy, but kept his spirit burning bright. 

So Adam Casterman decided was going to win today’s tourney. Not because it would bring honor to his college and his name. But because he wanted to look good in front of his girlfriend.

A better reason to fight than most, the young noble thought rakishly. And the victory celebration will be one to remember. Jen will surely see to that…

AN: A quick note to readers that Orc Harem will always be two chapters ahead on my Patreon.