Earlier, Argus explained to me and Torben of a melee tournament coming up between mercenary groups that happens every 4 months.

I wouldn’t have much incentive to enter normally, except for bragging rights and a small monetary prize.

However, since I wish to move further up in the Black Hounds hierarchy it could be beneficial if I won.

None of the Forts garrison or Taldar’s standing army is allowed to participate, but all three of the other mercenary groups should be participating.

The first of these is the Red Daggers skirmishing company, whose composition and purpose is similar to our, except they have slightly fewer members.

The next are the Taldarian Juggernaut brotherhood, being a well-trained melee unit focused on tight shield formations and close quarters combat.

Finally is the Dancing Swan company, a ridiculous name that suits them perfectly. This consists of random rowdy sellswords from around the kingdom, with not a shred of decency between them. Unfortunately, whilst they are not too hung up on discipline and manners, all of them are capable veteran fighters. Which goes for all of the other mercenary groups employed on the borders to the Forgotten Lands, who would only accept a non-veteran to use them as monster bait. A tactic I wouldn’t put past those mangy savages. Though in all honesty, there not nearly as bad as my previous employers, which likely doesn’t reflect well on me since I was their scary raiding leader. I prefer to think myself misunderstood.

In this melee, every mercenary company selects ten of their best fighters, though the companies leaders aren’t allowed to participate in case they accidentally die, causing the mercenary company to fall into chaos. Though someone dying is very unlikely, due to the use of blunted swords and padded armour. Other than that, there are very little rules beyond not going too far and accepting pleas for mercy.

Since the Black Hounds is separated into thirteen groups, one member is chosen from each group which would give us three too many people.

Though sparring semi-seriously with each other, everyone mutually agree who the three weakest are. But if any disagreements arise from this it is settled with a more serious duel, with the loser being one of the three to go.

The most ideal candidates for this would be me or Torben, though all of the others in my squadron are also very capable.

After some talking with the others and some light-hearted sparring, I was chosen.

After sparring with the other twelve members the day before the tourney, we finally reached a complete agreement between ourselves, without any bitter arguments or rivalries. One thing I’ve learnt since being here is that the company has a good comradery between each other, with even the couple of members of the Black Hounds I injured during spars, some badly so, not bearing any grudges.

I suppose that is an advantage of squadron going and selectively recruiting members that fit well with each other, unlike some other groups.

Now it’s time for the beginning round of the tournament, I speak as if it is a large festival affair that I’ve heard about in stories, but it’s far from it.

Rather, it’s a lot of mercenaries shouting encouragements and threats at the men fighting in the centre of the fort’s overly courtyard, whilst placing bets on promising fighters. Best not to mention this not being allowed, nor is the surprisingly large amount of the kingdoms soldiers and workers that have snuck away from their jobs to watch men bruise each other.

The entirety of the fights are one on one, with the line up rigged to make sure you fight other companies, rather than your own. Though exceptions do occur if there is a lot of people from you company is still around, especially towards the end of the tournament as participates begin to get scarce.

An rough-spoken announcer moves to the middle of the courtyard, the only place free of people, and announces the rules before calling out the first fight.

Today will consist of two fights, with you being eliminated if you lose either, which will bring down the numbers from 40 to 20, and then down again to 10. Those ten will fight again tomorrow amongst each other, with each fight consisting of three rounds.

It is not long before I hear my name called out, along with a man called Larkin from the Red Daggers, a short man with dark brown hair and a burn scar across the right side of his neck.

In all of the fights we have to use a longsword, which puts some member of both of the skirmishing companies to a disadvantage, since their main weapon would normally be a shortsword. Though our squadron seems to be full of people who defy that fact, except Finnian, who seemingly has every bladed weapon known to man.

Due to this fact, some of the most talented fighter don’t participate due to being uncomfortable with the weapon type, preferring to use a shortsword or perhaps a far more unusual weapon like a chain-sickle, which I saw a man walking around with whilst complaining about the extreme injustice.

We both prepare ourselves and get into our stances, waiting for the signal to fight.

I get into the ‘ox’ stance, raising the hilt of my sword just above my right temple and pointing the tip towards my opponents throat.

We are given the signal to start and begin shuffling towards each other, both of us not lowering our guard. Once within three metres, I bend my legs slightly before lunging forwards, with my sword still in the same stance. The two thing I most excel at is stealth and speed. Though someone like Torben could easily out strength me, I can attack quickly and precisely, throwing off their stance whilst taking advantage of any opening I create.

Within a second I’m in range, though my opponents reaction speed is quicker than I hoped for. As he saw me lunge, his eyes widened as I closed the gap and he abandoned his stance, throwing himself backwards to narrowly avoid my downwards slash.

Seeing the opportunity I press on the attack giving him no time to recover, giving quick slashes aimed at his throat, all of which he avoids fairly easily but still doesn’t have enough time to put up his guard.

I don’t intend for any of those attacks to him, I’m just waiting for a more sizeable opening before committing myself to a finishing blow. This is due to his quick reactions, making it dangerous to go for a reckless attack since it could lead to a counterattack that quickly turns the tables.

After a couple more attacks he takes the initiative, seeing that his condition isn’t going to be improving anytime soon. It was likely he was waiting for me to lunge forward with a heavy attack so that he could avoid it and get on the attack before I recover. Though seeing my conservative approach, he makes a gamble and instead of backpedaling hops forwards towards my blade making a downwards slash at his collarbone. He partly ducks under the blade and deflecting the slash across the length of blade, leaving my side exposed to him.

Something he takes advantage of swinging at my exposed chest, to which I respond to by twisting towards him whilst stepping back, wasting no movement to better position myself.

However due this, his sword has a glancing blow at my ribcage, shooting pain through out my chest.

It’s nothing serious, but it still hurts like hell.

Now both of us are at a stalemate, returning to the stances we were in at the beginning of our fight.

Although he isn’t a fool who will be pushed into a corner like last time, so the second our stances are ready he goes on the attack.

Though he is not quite as fast as me, his dash is still impressive, with him holding his sword at his hip positioned away from me, ready for a fast upwards cut.

Anticipating this I move forwards to meet his challenge, heavily swinging towards his quickly closing sword resulting in a loud metallic clash, jarring both of our arms as the force of the collision ripples through our bones.

Since we both need to recover our stances to begin attacking again, the logical thing to do is to step back and reposition.

However, using my momentum gained from moving forward to meet his sword, I lower my shoulder and spring forwards, driving it into his chest.

Though I’m not overly muscly or big, I still out-weigh the short and lean fighter currently tumbling backwards towards the ground. With me almost falling with him, but managing to recover.

Stood over his prone body, I put my blade to his neck and lightly step on his sword arm, still gripping his weapon.

We stare at each other for a second or two before he makes a small grin.

“I yield.” He says in a deep raspy voice. Possibly caused by whatever left that burn on his neck, since it didn’t at all fit his small stature.

After helping him up and probing my ribs for anything broken or otherwise amiss.

It’ll probably leave nothing more than a light bruise, so I’ll live.

What was his name again?

… Larkin?

I’ll make sure to remember that name, since he could have gotten much further if poor luck didn’t pit him against me.

Now to the second fight I guess.