Volume One: The Forest Knight Chapter 74: Trial by Combat (Part Two)

To participate in the trial by combat, having proper equipment was essential. Berion recalled the Twin Ring Armory he had visited days earlier and thought their goods were quite decent. Moreover, the proprietor, Jed, was a shrewd businessman with technical expertise, perfect for the task. By now, Jed should also have completed Berion’s and Bran’s saddles, so Berion could pick them up as well.

Jed greeted Berion with his usual courtesy. After selecting a set of fine iron-plated chain mail, Berion bought a barrel helm, a pair of greaves, and a sturdy linen gambeson that could lessen the impact of blunt weapons. For his weapon, Berion chose a mace—against fully armored knights, such blunt weapons inflicted significant damage.

In addition to ready-made arms, Berion commissioned some special equipment. With these, he believed that even in the upcoming jousting tournament, he would be able to hold his own against any opponent.

He could not yet be certain whether the tournament would feature jousting or direct sword combat. If it came down to swords on foot, Berion had no fear: he had trained for over a decade under the Dawn Sword and, though not considered a peerless master, he had easily defeated the likes of Sir Sog, three-time champion of the Northern Knights Tournament. In the Principality of Brick, few could hope to best him.

But jousting on horseback was a different matter. The Dawn Sword excelled at swordplay and foot combat, not mounted warfare—otherwise, he would not have fallen to brigands’ arrows on horseback.

In this era before plate armor, jousting placed especially high demands on the participants. Riders needed to hold a twenty-pound tournament lance with their right arm, keeping it steady at full gallop, and only thus could they strike their opponent accurately.

This required years of training to master the use of the heavy lance and develop tremendous arm strength—ordinary men would be exhausted after carrying the lance for even one round, let alone repeatedly charging with it.

Tournament lances consisted of a blunt, fist-shaped tip and a handguard plate to protect the wielder’s fingers. Behind the handguard was the rider’s grip.

From his previous life as an enthusiast of cold weapons, Berion knew that medieval tournament lances featured another component behind the handguard: the lance ring, a purpose-shaped circle that worked in tandem with the lance rest mounted on the armor.

When a rider struck with great force, the lance ring and rest prevented the lance from sliding backward. No matter how strong one was, controlling the lance during a fierce charge was nearly impossible. The correct method was to combine the lance ring and lance rest, thus leveraging the weight of rider, horse, and the momentum of the charge to knock down the opponent.

Therefore, Berion handed his designs to Jed at the Twin Ring Armory, commissioning ten tournament lances with lance rings, and instructed Jed to install a lance rest on his cloth armor.

With this setup, Berion could place the lance into the rest during combat, no longer relying solely on arm strength to control the weapon. This would improve his aim and increase his chances of victory. He also asked Jed to lengthen his lance by another fist’s breadth.

This adjustment was within the allowable margin for tournaments, though seasoned jousters avoided it since a longer lance was harder to control. But Berion knew the principle: “an inch longer, an inch stronger.” Given his lack of skill, he would let his weapon compensate.

The cost of all these purchases amounted to nearly three thousand dinars—a sum Berion could afford, but which would make any knight with only a small farm or ordinary village weep. Few could save that much in a year, given the low level of metallurgy in this era; crafting fine armor was time-consuming, and thus very expensive.

Jed, delighted with such a large transaction, gifted Berion an extra set of iron-plated armor and five round shields, promising to have Berion’s heraldry painted on them. He also tailored the chain mail to fit perfectly, waiving the modification fee as a special discount for his valued customer.

Once all arrangements were set, they agreed Berion would return in three days to collect everything. Berion then left with Bran; the moon was already high, but the town was still lively after the recent tournament, with many people out enjoying themselves.

Berion had no desire to linger—rest and preparation for training were his priorities.

Three days later, Jed personally delivered the order in a horse-drawn cart. Berion inspected the items and found them excellent, increasing his respect for Jed. If Nolanburg were not so desolate, Berion would have invited him to open a branch there.

That evening, Miss Jessis sent her elderly servant, whose hair was silver, to deliver clothes she had made for Berion. The old man told Berion, “Sir Berion, my lady asks you to try these on, so I may see if they fit.”

Berion nodded, and after changing in the inner chamber, discovered the count’s daughter had tailored the garments perfectly. The intricate patterns were exquisite, and his double-headed eagle crest was embroidered on the chest.

The old servant circled Berion, smiling, “Our lady’s craftsmanship is impressive, and her taste is even better. Sir Berion, here is a letter from her—everything about the trial by combat is inside. I won’t intrude further; farewell.”

With that, the old man turned to leave. Berion considered asking him something, but realized the answers were in the letter and there was little need.

Yet after a few steps outside, the old man turned back, saying, “Sir Berion, I forgot a message my lady asked me to convey—my old mind is so muddled, prone to forgetfulness.

She wishes you to know that she looks forward to seeing you victorious in the trial by combat, wearing these clothes at the celebratory banquet at the count’s manor. She will wear a matching gown and dance with you.”

After delivering these words, the elderly servant departed swiftly, leaving Berion standing at the doorway with the letter in hand, stunned.

Bran approached and asked softly, “Master, is it about the trial by combat?”

Berion nodded, then sat inside and opened the letter, beautifully written in elegant script. After reading it, Berion learned that Miss Jessis had convinced her father, Count Gree, to decide Pruelly’s fate through trial by combat.

The contest would take place two mornings hence. The list of participants would be posted the next day, and it was expected to be even livelier than the knight tournament, for nearly a decade had passed since the last public trial by combat in Yangwickshire.

Suddenly, a trial by combat was announced right after the Northern Knights Tournament; many visitors were still in town, eager not to miss the spectacle.

For the following two days, Berion ignored the outside world, training relentlessly at a farm outside the city found by Gamgee. Jessis had told him that Count Gree hoped the trial would be resolved through jousting, though this did not mean the knights would forgo foot combat weapons.

Gamgee explained that the trial by combat was a fight to the death, with both sides equipped as for war—full foot and mounted weapons, ready for anything.

This was not a tournament—one’s opponent could target your horse with their lance. Without foot weapons, death was certain.

Berion’s intense training exhausted Bran, Broda, and the guards. They took turns pulling a cart to simulate a galloping horse so Berion could practice.

Berion rode the cart, lance in rest, aiming at suspended iron rings to hone his accuracy and control.

After two days of grueling practice and his prior experience with mounted swordplay, Berion felt he could hold his own. Confidence was lacking, but with only two days, there was no alternative.

No matter how prepared, he had to face the trial—the outcome would determine not only Pruelly’s fate, but his own. He had to give his all.

On the morning of the trial, Berion arrived early at the arena—the same venue used for the Northern Knights Tournament, still intact and ready.

He waited briefly after entering before Count Gree and his family arrived, followed by the town’s dignitaries. Once the notables were seated, the guards allowed the common folk in, who quickly filled the tiered stands to overflowing.

Berion looked out over a sea of faces—a scene even more vibrant than the tournament. Yet what mattered most was the identity of his opponent.

By tradition, the names of the knights participating in the trial by combat were kept secret until it began, especially from each other, to prevent unforeseen events before the match.

Not knowing his opponent unsettled Berion, perhaps because in his previous life he had been taught “know your enemy and yourself, and you need not fear a hundred battles.” He always wanted advance knowledge.

But reality seldom offered such clarity; sometimes one must face the unknown head-on.

In truth, the uncertainty was exhilarating. Regardless, one must fight—if he gave his all and failed, it would be fate, not fault.

As Berion mused, his opponent entered, fully armored and wrapped in steel. Yet Berion recognized the heraldry—the anxiety he had felt was replaced by calm, not because he expected victory, but because he was certain he would lose badly.

His adversary was none other than Sir Sog, lord of Riverside Town, the three-time champion of the Northern Knights Tournament and Berion’s former defeated foe.

Though Sir Sog had lost to Berion in swordplay, Berion knew this did not mean Sog was inferior, especially after witnessing Sog’s devastating charge in the third round of the tournament. Sog’s mastery of jousting was unmatched in the Principality of Brick.

Gamgee and Bran, who accompanied Berion, looked grim—they knew Berion’s assessment of Sog and his own shortcomings in mounted combat. If Berion faced Sog, he would likely lose his life. Not only was he outmatched, but his opponent bore him no goodwill.

Gamgee hurriedly whispered to Berion, “Announce your withdrawal—losing face is better than losing your life. If you fight Sir Sog now, it will not end well; you may not survive.”

Berion shook his head. It was too late to withdraw; if he did, Pruelly would be implicated and executed as a witch on the spot.