“There ain’t no such thing as a perfect monarch in history. Every single one of them got their failings or vices. You all just don’t notice it ‘cause they scrubbed all references of those clean outta the history books.” - Common saying in Alcidea.

“So why exactly is the trial by combat so popular?” Cal asked to Orloff during the next intermission. There were ten to fifteen minute breaks and intermissions between the various programs, and the trial by combat was supposed to be next on the cards. “I get that it’s a rare occasion, but I don’t think this many would have turned up just to see what amounts to a public execution.”

“Well, one of the reasons is because the jerk about to get his comeuppance is a pretty infamous name here,” replied the old dwarf as he played with his beard absentmindedly. “Jamron the Bloodletter was a famous criminal in these parts around two centuries ago. He was so bad that the king at the time demanded he be de-bearded and forever cast away for his crimes.”

De-bearding was a dwarven punishment reserved for the worst offenders - much like castration in Cal’s hometown - and involved alchemical tonics to prevent the punished from ever growing their beards again. It was considered the sign of ultimate shame amongst the dwarves, and most criminals condemned to it pleaded to be executed instead. This Jamron was clearly an exception.

“So I take it he was foolish enough to return huh?” asked Cal with a raised, questioning eyebrow. Most criminals were not so foolish as to return when a death warrant was placed on their heads. “What made him even risk death by returning to begin with?”

“Less something he wants and more that he’s been driven out from pretty much everywhere else he went to,” replied Orloff with a chuckle. “I heard the border guards caught him when he tried to trespass from Knallzog land to the Elven Domains. He was naturally unwilling to just be executed and went for the long shot, hence this trial today.”

“You mentioned reasons earlier, so I assume there are other reasons?”

“Well, the seventh princess is also quite a darling for the audience. At least a quarter of the spectators here must be around just to see her,” said Orloff with another chuckle as he filled a tankard with mead. “Oh right, she’s been doing the Royal champion duties this past century. Pretty well-liked, that lass.”

“Seventh princess?” Cal asked with another raised eyebrow. Dwarves typically called their children by gender and order of birth, and she knew the dwarves had at least two princes as well, which meant the current dwarven king had at least nine children.

“Oh aye, our current king is a rather good one, by most recognitions,” said the old dwarf with a self-deprecating smile. “He just has one flaw. Could never keep that royal dick on a leash. At least he’s more than rich enough to afford all those concubines, I guess.”

“Just curious, but how many children does the current king have?”

“Let me count for a bit,” said Orloff as he pondered quietly for a moment. “Thirty-one… no wait. Thirty two with that youngest prince he had two months ago. That’s out of his Queen and fifteen concubines.”

“That’s… a lot,” replied Cal with a shake of her head. An unbidden thought came to her of Xain, whose situation would likely force him to take more wives or concubines to proliferate the bloodline as well, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “How does he even keep them all in line? Must be hell in the royal harem.”

“They get along well enough, surprisingly. It helps that the succession laws here are ironclad. We don’t get the power plays and sibling rivalry like most human nations get,” replied the dwarf as he took a drink from his tankard. “The royal kids from the concubines get it ingrained early in life that their task is to help support their sibling on the throne. Dissident talk in the royal harem is grounds for immediate execution here. We had one such consort removed just a generation ago, even.”

“That’s one way to do things, I guess,” admitted Cal as she looked back to the arena. The intermission was ending, and the announcer began to rile up the crowd once more. One of the gates was opened, and a dwarf walked out to the boos and jeers of the crowd.

The dwarf made for an odd sight, with his tanned head completely hairless, down to the eyebrows and other fine hair usually present on the face. He was a bulky one though, with plenty of scars on his arms and legs. The dwarf carried a pair of large cleavers in his hands as he walked to the arena, his eyes transfixed to the gate opposite the one he came from.

From the other gate, walked out the Royal family’s champion. The Seventh Princess of the Kingdom Down Under, Sieglinde Carlotta Eugenia Eisenhand. The Princess was surprisingly tall, easily topping two meters, with a massive, broad build like most dwarves, if rather less exaggerated.

The way her long ears - with plenty of earrings on each - ended in pointy ends hinted at a likely elvish ancestry, which would have definitely accounted for her abnormal height and lanky - for a dwarf - build as well. Much like her opponent, the Seventh Princess was unarmored, and unusually for a dwarf, kept most of her relatively pretty face shaved clean, with her braided beard kept under her chin.

While the crowd cheered for the arrival of the Princess, Cal noticed more about the easy, confident way the woman walked. She seemed pretty young, likely over a hundred, but probably not two hundred yet, but her bearing and the way she kept her balance as she walked hinted at extensive training as a warrior, which made sense considering she had served as Royal champion for a while now.

What Cal found odd was not the axe and hammer hanging from her belt, but rather the weapon she held in hand. The Seventh Princess had a length of chain in her hand, with small weights at the ends. It was probably around three to four meters long in total, but Cal thought the chain was too light to be that effective a weapon.