After the litany of her crimes was read out, it was time for the first contest – jousting. Ignoring another round of dirty looks as she moved back through the crowd, Stathis moved back to the others. One of Larrik’s companions was leading their own horse, a great white warhorse. He was wearing full jousting plate, shining brilliantly. Stathis went to fetch Mavrosa, leading her forward, Semari tailing along behind. Stathis looked down at herself – her own armour was battered and in need of a good clean, the sun barely visible, although her clothing was at least in good repair for once.

Larrik looked at her with open scorn. ‘Knight Stathis. The hour of your judgement is at hand. Soon you will receive heaven’s punishment for your sins. The Priestess of the Whispering Flame has generously offered to cauterise your wounds – I promise I will do what I can to make it merciful.’

Stathis shot a glance over towards Carissia, still looking ominous, wrapped in her black. Something else to take up with her afterwards. ‘Larrik, while I admire your strength, you’re a dick, and I’ll be taking your sword. Knight Gethren.’ She gave him a slight bow, which he reciprocated. ‘So this is where we inspect the horses? Yours looks a fine beast, must be well bred.’

They stepped past each other, Stathis looking at the horse. It was a magnificent creature, bred for combat, powerful and strong, bridling at the touch of someone it didn’t know, caparisoned in full armour. By contrast, Mavrosa seemed good, but not as majestic, despite her gleaming black hide – a good horse, but definitely not a warhorse, and still trying to play with Semari, dancing around as Gethren examined it, patting her down. It whickered at him, less friendly now.

‘Are you sure this is wise, Knight Stathis? This creature seems unlikely to provide much contest. A fine mare, but lacking in strength.’

Stathis shrugged. ‘I know that you’re decent enough not to target the horse, and this was the best I could get. I don’t exactly have a full baggage train or anything with me, never mind spare horses. Anyway, is it acceptable to you?’

Mavrosa sniffed at him suspiciously, but didn’t betray any sign of unworldly origin as Gethren checked her over, before nodding in agreement. ‘Can’t say as I like it, but I deem the horse acceptable.’

‘Likewise. So, standard rules?’

Larrik crossed his arms self-importantly. ‘We will abide by the Rules and Ordinances of the Order of the Most Holy Knights of the Sun.’

‘So, yes; standard rules then?’ It was cheap, but it was too much fun to needle and irritate Larrik.

‘Yes. Now, would you kindly remove your… ally from the area?’ He gestured at Semari, now staring down Mavrosa, who was trying to nuzzle her again. ‘It is time for you to mount.’

‘Actually, she’s my jouster.’ As they spoke, Mavrosa pushed herself against Semari, who struggled in vain to push her bulk away.

Gethren protested. ‘Knight Stathis, I must object! She wears no armour. I have no wish to maim an innocent, because of your cowardice.’

Stathis waved a hand. ‘She’ll be fine, she’s tough. She’ll have a shield. Don’t worry, I take full responsibility. And I’ve seen you pick apples with your lance, all you need to do is knock her off. Sorry, Gethren, I know it sucks. But knights don’t always get to choose their battles, sometimes you get someone you don’t want to fight. You could always forfeit if you feel that strongly about it.’

Semari managed to break free, and shook a fist. ‘Yeah, come at me! Just ‘cos you’re shiny, don’t think you’re going to win.’

Larrik was indignant. ‘Knight Stathis, although I am aware that a Knight must take mercy on the… afflicted, there is a limit. But her blood will be another sin upon your soul.’

‘Hey, I’m not afflicted! I’m badass!’ Semari punched the air, lightning sparking along her bracer.

Stathis sighed. ‘Can we just get this over with? Swiftly?’

Larrik nodded. ‘For once, I quite agree. Let us begin.’

They moved to opposite ends, Stathis yanking on Mavrosa’s reins to stop her nuzzling Semari and herself more. Why the hell was a horse summoned by Janaxia so friendly? She’d expect it to be refusing to step in anything close to dirt, or busily eyeing up all the other mares and stallions.

‘You ready for this? It should be pretty easy, just follow the plan.’

‘Shoulda held out for a whole cow, rather than half. And some sides. And a lot of drinks. You better not forget, or break your promise!’

‘Yes, yes, you’ll get food, don’t worry. Just win, OK?’

Semari mounted up, by simply vaulting up and onto the back of Mavrosa. She twisted around, not bother to put her feet into the stirrups, as Stathis handed her a lance. She took it, the tip wavering around as Semari tried to hold it straight. ‘So, what do I do with this?’

‘Just keep hold of it, I guess? You need it to start with.’

Semari managed to hold the lance, struggling with the balance of it, as Gethren moved into position, his horsemanship and control of his steed exquisite, lance held straight and true. It took a few false starts, but Stathis eventually managed to push and pull Mavrosa into position opposite Gethren.

Carissia moved forward, raising her hand high, a flame bursting into life between Semari and Gethren. Mavrosa shifted and moved around, unused to a rider, combining poorly with Semari, who wasn’t used to riding. Then the flame blinked out, and the joust started. Gethren thundered forward, mighty steed kicking up clouds of dirt, ground shaking under the impacts of hooves. Mavrosa slowly trotted forward, Semari trying to kick her into faster motion and getting ignored. Gethren’s lance swept into position, a perfectly aimed strike that would strike Semari in the shoulder – a painful blow, and one that would unhorse her, but would likely not be a fatal one. There was what should have been the moment of impact, an indrawn groan of anticipation coming from the crowd.

But there was no impact. His lance stabbed through emptiness as Semari leapt, twisting through the air, landing behind him, lance still in hand. She tossed it aside, as Movrosa bent her head to pluck at some grass. Then she wrapped her arms around Gethren’s armoured body, her bracer slamming against his chest, lightning sparking through his armour. He twitched and spasmed, as Semari tightened her grip, more sparks flickering up and down through them both. Semari’s teeth were clenched in pain, but Gethren was probably taking the brunt of it.

Then Semari hooked a leg around his, managing to yank it out of the stirrup. With him off-balance, it was easy to repeat the action with the other leg and then just push him off his horse. He hit the ground with a loud crash, lightning still snapping over him, although he managed to land as best he could, slapping the ground to try and reduce the impact.

His horse rode on, Semari hanging on as tightly as possible, letting it move wherever it wanted to. Shock ran through the crowd, Larrik shouting objections. Stathis walked forward, ready for an argument.

‘That wasn’t jousting!’

‘The rules say that the winner is whoever is mounted at the end. Doesn’t say it has to be on their own horse.’ She went to help Gethren up, pulling his helmet off – he looked a little dazed, but otherwise fine. ‘One person not on a horse, one person on a horse. Seems pretty clear. Hey, you wanted this done by the rules, and that’s what the rules say. Sorry Gethren.’

‘This is most irregular! Stathis, do you intend to entirely abandon any concept of honour? This is not how knights fight!’

‘We’re fighters. We fight to win. This is within the rules – a joust happened, and your guy lost. Bit of a shitty way about it, I agree, but you need to stop whining and deal with it. Unless you can point to some explicit reason why this shouldn’t count?’ She glared at him. ‘Well?’

He gritted his jaw, clearly trying to find some reason to disqualify her win, but unable to think of one. It had been entirely legitimate, even if unorthodox. Well, the rules hadn’t been written for someone like Semari, jumping between horses wasn’t really practical when wearing full armour. Spellcasting was banned, but Semari’s skills didn’t require any fingerwaggling or anything in advance, and a knackered magical bracer was allowed.

It clearly cost him dearly, but he eventually nodded in agreement. ‘Very well, Knight Stathis. You win this round. But your mage is clearly some aimless dilettante – should you not be concerned for your paramour?’

‘She’s not my paramour, we just work together! Shall we just get this over with? Although I’m surprised Murretha’s with you. He’s normally pretty chilled. Or at least used to be.’

‘He wishes to end your tarnishing of the once-proud name of the Knights of the Sun!’

‘You’re paying him, aren’t you? He’s just in it for the money. Bet you had to throw a fair amount of gold at him, he doesn’t work cheap. And I heard he wants to get married to some princess, so he’s going to want a sack of cash. You must really hate me to throw that kind of money around. Isn’t there something about that in the Knightly Codes? Not being a hateful prick?’

‘You bring disgrace upon the Order! Carousing and associating with such vulgar sorts only serves to lower the state of the Order even more.’ He gestured at Semari, who was now accepting drinks from the audience, her bandana around an arm rather than covering her face.

‘You’re paying a wizard to beat up another wizard, because you want to chop my hands off – don’t you think that’s a bit crazy? Just because some enchantress put one over on you years ago. Just deal with it. Gods, let’s just get this over with, shall we? Kick the race off, and then let the spellcasters fight?’

Parth was still standing with the other elves, although it would be more accurate to say they were all standing around her, maintaining a respectful semi-circle with her at the centre. Her clothing had seen an upgrade, her usual utilitarian garb now subtly ornamented with cunning patterns of brass thread woven throughout, gleams of amber and gold in her hair. ‘Are you ready for this?’

In contrast to her more formal appearence, and the sternly impassive face of her… allies? Or attendants?, she grinned. ‘Easy. Promise, remember?’

‘Sure, I’ll do what I can to win the sword off the Duke, or get it for you some other way. As long as I’ve still got my hands!’

Atop the keep, a bright yellow pennant flapped, bearing a sun-symbol, Larrik having bought it with him, just in case he ever needed to wave a banner. His competitor was long and rangy, an outlander, used to the wilderness, and a lot taller than Parth. He was stretching and warming up, preparing himself. Parth shed her cloak, revealing the shining, elven-crafted chainmail she wore beneath, silent even as she moved.

Side-by-side, it looked slightly ridiculous, with Larrik’s entrant far taller, and lightly dressed for a race, while Parth was dressed for battle, even elven chain liable to drain stamina faster than cloth.

‘So, first up to the top? They don’t have to get back to the bottom or anything?’

Larrik nodded. ‘Indeed. And you appear to have found at least one ally that isn’t utterly dissolute or a wretch. I am almost impressed.’

The flame burst into life, then puffed out, the race starting. Parth was slower than her competitor, who quickly raced ahead, leaping over a barrel that had been placed in the path, as an obstacle. Parth reached the same obstacle, her body turning ethereal as she simply ran through it. As she reached the town wall, she didn’t bother finding the gate, instead simply running through the wall. One of the other elves snickered slightly, as Parth simply headed in the straightest line possible for her target. She gained height at a slow but constant rate, heading straight for the flag, moving on empty air.

‘Right, so while they’re doing that, why don’t we let the spellcasters do their thing?’

Larrik didn’t look particularly happy, but that wasn’t really Stathis’ problem. The fighting area for the magician’s duel was an open field, set in a slight dip, so that they could blast away with less chance of hitting innocent bystanders. Sturdy wooden boards had been erected for protection, and some of the visiting adventurers were casting protection spells, further shielding the audience. Janaxia had taken pains to look more wizardly than usual, her dress brighter and less revealing than usual, although still quite tight and baring her shoulders and forearms, and she had ornate makeup around her eyes. Although at least it didn’t move or behave in any unusual way, and her tattoo mercifully seemed to be hiding. Her reds and blacks were striking against the grass, and there were a few appreciative comments as she moved into position, on-lookers admiring her appearence. Well, she did put a lot of effort into looking good.

It wasn’t one of her better outfits, in Stathis’ opinion; a bit too gaudy, and the constant winds meant she had to make the concession of a half-cloak to keep the wind off, ruining her silhouette from behind. The baggier fabric around her waist wasn’t really doing her any favours either. Stathis shook the thought from her head – she really had been spending too much time with Janaxia.

Do pay attention, Stathis! This is by way of being a personal favour, so I would appreciate you at least admiring my technique. Really, the thing I am forced to endure because of our association, and never a word of appreciation! She was too far away for Stathis to speak to, so she tried to look encouraging, waving and nodding at Janaxia. I do hope for at least token of appreciation when this is done with

Quite what she was expecting, Stathis had no idea. Although it would be courteous to give her a gift, even if there was no way that Stathis would be able to afford anything like the golden jewellery that Janaxia had been eying up earlier. A bottle of fancy, but not too fancy, was about all her budget could stretch to currently.

Her opponent was dressed in more traditional wizarding style, his baggy robe significantly gaudier and adorned with golden sigils, gem-emblazoned rings on his fingers, several ornate wands on his waist. It wasn’t quite enough to hide that he was only in his mid-twenties, if that, and not yet paunchy enough to fill out the robe, a thick sash instead wound about his waist to pad out his stomach to a more wizardly size, and support his pouches of spell components.

They moved to stand opposite each other, another fire sparking to life between them. As soon as it vanished, they both started casting spells, arcane energy forming around their hands. Janaxia was faster, a dome of darkness appearing around her enemy, shrouding him from sight. A moment later, there was a shout of pain from within it, as the cold and the acid likely took hold. Janaxia studied her nails for a moment, blowing on them and appearing utterly complacent, before casually gesturing, flicking a bolt of blackness into the darkness. From the pained shout, it had connected, probably knocking him further back into the sphere.

This was repeated for a while, Janaxia tossing her blasts into the darkness to keep him from leaving, and he couldn’t counterattack when he couldn’t see. Murretha staggered out from the darkness, looking injured and battered, clothing ragged, his hands coming up to form a spell. Before he could finish, Janaxia flicked a hand at him, three bolts of energy shooting forth, two of them catching him in the chest, knocking him off his feet and sending him hurtling backwards into the darkness. The screams started again as he disappeared from view, his yells getting more frenzied.

‘I concede!’

Janaxia made a casual wave, the sphere of darkness vanishing, to reveal Murretha cowering on the ground, his clothing damaged and melted by the acid, ice in his hair. Janaxia wiped her nails against her blouse, carefully inspecting them as though she had been doing anything that might cause them damage.

Well, that was simple, if a touch unsatisfying. I would have appreciated the chance to show off a little more dash and verve, maybe display the melee skills you have been so assiduous in teaching me? But a win is, as they say, a win

Stathis mouthed a “thanks” at Janaxia, although she probably wouldn’t be able to see.

‘So, Larrik, going to complain about this? That looked pretty fair to me.’

He growled at her. ‘Such magic is dark and unnatural, and a wielder of such is not a fitting companion for a Knight of the Sun. But she was victorious, yes. And now we must fight. Unless you have some excuse prepared?’

‘No. It sucks, but let’s do this.’ The other contests she had been able to nudge in her favour, but this one there wasn’t much way around. Hopefully she’d be able to pull something out. Above them, the sky was getting cloudy and dark, looking ready to storm. Well, if it chucked it down, then maybe she could trip him in the mud. They were to be the first into the fighting area, the grass not yet crushed underfoot.

They stood opposite each other. The wind blew, suddenly colder and harder, as Stathis sized up her opponent. He was shorter than her, but not by much, and stronger. Although he wore full plate against her half, it was well-made, and unlikely to slow him down. His full-face helm would hamper his vision, but she’d have to move fast to take advantage of that. And while swords were very knightly, she’d rather have a warhammer or a military pick if she had to break his armour – injuring him enough to surrender without seriously injuring him seemed a challenge.

He had at least enough style to not taunt her, instead holding his sword in a comfortable grip, ready to fight, shield strapped to his left arm. A fire blossomed between them, heat prickling Stathis’ face. As it did so, movement in the air caught Stathis’ eye – something was visible amongst the clouds, a fleck of green.

Rain began to fall, hard and heavy, splatting against the ground with a loud drumming, hissing into steam where it hit the fire. There was a crack of light, followed, a moment later, by the loud boom of thunder.

‘Uh, Larrik, we might want to…’

‘I will not be swayed by your honeyed words, Knight Stathis! You may have managed to obtain victories elsewhere, but now you shall be defeated.’

There was another flash of lightning, a crack of thunder, closer this time. Was that fleck of green a person, flying through the storm? If so, lightning was flickering around their hands.

‘I really think we should call this off, at least for the moment, because…’

A blast of lightning hit the ground nearby, showering them both with clods of dirt, rattling off their armour and shields.

‘What trickery is this? Knight Stathis, I expected at least a modicum of honour and decency from you, but I see that even such low expectations are beyond your capability!’

‘This isn’t my doing!’ Another strike, the ground steaming and hissing from the heat of the lightning. She pointed with her sword. ‘It’s them!’ The figure was now wreathed in a corona of power, the rain hammering the ground. Stathis threw herself backward as another bolt of lightning lanced towards the ground. The assembled adventurers were readying themselves for combat, weapons coming to hands, magical energy flaring around priests and wizards. A few arrows and spells arced through the air but lacked the range and power to have any effect, the winds and rain buffeting them away.

The figure was close enough now that, even through the storm and rain, Stathis could see it was a woman, their green clothing wind-lashed and worn, copper-red hair, with curling blue tattoos on their arms and legs, a spiked curl twisting over one eye and trailing down her neck. They gestured, another bolt of lightning arcing into a tent, igniting it even amidst the rain.