Locmire's Quest: Book One A Tales from Calencia Novel

by Brian Hutchinson

  The Tournament of the Decade

  "Are the preparations complete?” Azonis asked.

  “Yes, my Lord. Everything is all set,” Tontal, the royal advisor, replied.

  “Were you able to procure the beasts I asked for?” Azonis asked.

  “Every last one of them,” Tontal boasted proudly.

  “Excellent. This will be the most amazing event to ever take place in Lasticall,” Azonis said as he stood on his balcony overlooking the city.

  “Are you sure you are going to guarantee the victor the position of your Sword?” Tontal asked.

  “I need a new Sword, do I not?” the Sestian asked.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Tontal replied.

  “Then who better to fill that role than the best warrior in the kingdom?” Azonis asked.

  “None, my Lord,” replied Tontal.

  After a few more minutes of meaningless chatter, Azonis dismissed Tontal. The advisor departed to make the final preparations for the event Azonis had deemed "The Tournament of the Decade," which was designed to find Azonis his new Sword. The Sestian was sure there would be an exceedingly large turnout for the tournament since such a great reward was being offered. Any able bodied Engenium would be highly honored to become Azonis’s Sword. Other than Azonis himself, the Sword held the most power in the entire kingdom.

  Azonis hoped that no Forest Engenium would enter the tournament but knew that he could not exclude them for fear of another revolt. He did take comfort in the fact that no Forest Engenium would be skilled enough in the art of combat to ever have a chance at winning the tournament.

  The day had finally arrived; the tournament was set to begin. The tournament was taking place in the stadium-like area of the city, known as The Stage. The Stage resembled an arena, although no battle had ever taken place inside its boundaries. The Stage was surrounded by a ten foot high stone wall. Inside the wall was a large, open, grassy field. Seats lined the top of the wall, extending upward and out. Each new row of seats was supported by thick stone pillars. The entire population of Lasticall, and many of the Forest Engeniums, turned out for this momentous occasion. Azonis, Tontal, Koste, and a few other members of the royal court sat opposite the fighter’s entrance so that the entire viewing audience could see them. The time had finally come. Azonis took to his feet, and everyone in The Stage fell silent.

  Azonis opened his arms wide and said, “Welcome citizens of Lasticall.” The crowd erupted with cheers. He motioned for them to settle down. Speaking loudly, he said, “Good citizens of Lasticall, we are gathered here today for an historic event that will determine my new Sword.” Cheers again. “I am not one who likes to hear himself talk. Let us begin.”

  The crowd roared violently. They could not wait to see this spectacle unfold. This was the first event of its kind to ever take place in Lasticall. Usually if one wanted to witness such barbaric behavior, they would have to travel to the more remote areas of the Free Lands.

  Azonis took his seat and Tontal stood. He addressed the crowd. “The rules of this tournament are simple. Each participant can use their weapons of choice. Each match will be a fight to the death, or submission. To call for submission, a participant must hold three fingers to their heart. This would signal an inability or unwillingness to continue. The victor will move on to face the victor of another match, and so on, and so on. The last Engenium standing will be pitted against some of the most terrifying foes to ever walk Calencia. If the Engenium is able to best these monstrosities, he or she will be declared victor and be awarded the title of Sword of the Sestian. Without further adieu, let us begin.”

  A fat Engenium took Tontal’s position. He put a speaking horn to his mouth and bellowed out, “Maltais Faroku and Dontius Thorn, come forth.”

  Maltais, a High Engenium, came to The Stage wearing a decorative golden suite of armor encrusted with green emeralds. He wielded two golden short swords. Dontius, a High Engenium as well, was dressed very similar, but without the emeralds. His weapon of choice was a pole arm. The two Engeniums stood ten feet apart from one another, anxiously awaiting battle.

  The fat herald cried out, "BEGIN!"

  Dontius rushed Maltais; Maltais took a defensive stance. Dontius lunged forward with his pole arm. Maltais raised his arm, turned his body slightly and evaded the attack, catching the pole arm under his right arm and sending his left arm forward. His golden sword sank deep into soft flesh of Dontius’s neck. Maltais smoothly removed his sword, and Dontius slumped to the ground. The crowd cheered loudly. The first match had lasted all of five seconds. Maltais removed his helmet, exposing his many silver braids, bowed to the crowd and exited The Stage. A group of Forest Engeniums ran out and removed Dontius’s body.

  "Impressive," Azonis said.

  The matches came in frequent succession. As soon as a body was removed, the fat Engenium would announce two more combatants, and they would begin their deadly duel.

  So far, the High Engeniums' skills were unmatched, except by one another. Only one match was left in the first round, a High Engenium versus a Forest Engenium. Up to this point, only four Forest Engeniums had fought in the tournament. All four, one of whom had put his three fingers to his heart, were slain effortlessly. So far, the matches had been rather boring. Azonis had lost interest only three matches in. He did not show much regard for the first round of the tournament, due to the lack of skill displayed by so many. Azonis figured that after the first round, the tournament would become much more interesting, and he would no longer have to worry about the presence of the Forest Engeniums.

  The fat Engenium stepped forward and said, “Rasmere Elmidas and Dorian Lokaster, step forward.”

  As the combatants entered The Stage, Azonis’s attention quickly redirected to the tournament.

  “Ah, a true warrior finally steps into The Stage. Dorian Lokaster is the most talented Engenium in all of Lasticall,” Azonis said.

  “True. He is highly favored to win the tournament,” Koste agreed.

  “It is unfortunate that we do not get to see him in a more difficult task,” Tontal replied blandly.

  “This match should be over with quickly enough. The next rounds should be much more entertaining,” Azonis said as he drank the last of his wine, motioning to have his glass filled once more.

  “BEGIN!” cried the herald.

  Dorian Lokaster arrogantly approached Rasmere Elmidas, twirling his dual short swords in a circular motion. Dorian was dressed just like the other High Engeniums, in a suite of golden armor. Rasmere, on the other hand, was wearing tattered rags, and he was shoeless. He carried an unremarkable iron long sword. His bow, however, was remarkable. There was only one problem; he seemed to have forgotten his arrows.

  As Dorian closed in, Rasmere sheathed his long sword and readied his bow. Dorian roared with laughter. Azonis decided that this match had become, much like the others, unworthy of his attention and began speaking of more interesting matters. Azonis and Koste were deep in conversation discussing the Engeniums whom they thought showed the most promise, when the crowd let out a surprised gasp. Azonis turned to The Stage to see Dorian Lokaster sprawled out in the green grass; an arrow was centered between his eyes. Azonis had a bewildered look on his face. The entire crowed stood, jaws gaping, trying to determine what they had just witnessed. Rasmere was like a statue, except for his eyes, which were locked on Azonis. Breaking the awkward silence, the fat herald said, “Rasmere Elmidas advances to the next round!” The entire crowd, minus the Forest Engeniums, was hauntingly silent. One of Lasticall’s most favored sons was being carried out of The Stage.

  “What . . . just . . . happened?” Tontal asked, stressing each word.

  “I . . . I have no idea. Where did he get that arrow?” Azonis asked.

  “Apparently, Dorian was not as skilled as we had thought,” Koste stated matter of factly.

  “No,” Azonis said sharply. “He was as skilled as we had suspected. Who is this Forest Engenium?”

  “The name is f
amiliar. Where have I heard the name, Elmidas?” Tontal wondered aloud.

  The fat herald said, “Elmidas was the name of the Savior from the Forest. Surely this Engenium must be from his blood.”

  “An Elmidas,” Azonis stated with a hint of amazement in his voice. “I thought them all to be dead.”

  “It seems one still lives,” replied Koste.

  “Indeed,” Azonis said. "This may prove troublesome."

  Round two began after a short recess. The buzz of the tournament was Rasmere Elmidas. His name was shouted and whispered throughout the stands, mostly in a negative manner. The Forest Engeniums could hardly contain their joy over Rasmere’s unexpected victory, but they knew they must or deal with the repercussions that would later be dealt to them by the High Engeniums.

  The fat herald announced the next two combatants, “Rasmere Elmidas and Bewee step forward."

  Rasmere entered The Stage to unwelcoming jeers. Bewee, a plump, bald, menacing looking High Engenium stepped into The Stage opposite him. He did not don the traditional golden armor of the High Engeniums; his round belly stood in the way. Instead, he wore a pair of brown breeches, white chiton and brown boots. He clutched a golden claymore in his hand. His hatred for Rasmere was evident by the hateful snarl on his face.

  “BEGIN!” the fat Engenium cried.

  Bewee ran forward, stopped and pulled a round ball from his pocket. Rasmere took aim with his bow as Bewee flung the ball toward him. Rasmere was about to release the string of his bow when the ball exploded, producing a blinding flash of light. Rasmere turned his head to shield his eyes from the light. Bewee rushed forward, lowered his shoulder, and smashed into Rasmere. Bewee sent him flying through the air. He tumbled across the ground, and his bow fell from his hands. Rasmere Elmidas rolled onto his back to find Bewee bringing his claymore down with all of his might. Rasmere rolled out of the way of the attack. Dirt sprang from the ground as the claymore smashed into the ground, missing its target by mere inches. He rolled three more times, barely escaping each attack.

  “Now this is a fight!” Azonis exclaimed.

  “I do not see this Forest Engenium faring as well without his bow,” Tontal said.

  Rasmere rolled onto his back and swept Bewee’s leg out from under him. The plump Engenium fell hard to the ground. Rasmere got to his feet and drew his iron sword. For an overweight man, Bewee was rather nimble. He was on his feet in an instant. Bewee looked at Rasmere for a brief second, sizing him up. He charged once more, raising his claymore high into the air above his head. Just when Bewee started to bring his claymore down, Rasmere lunged forward with his iron sword. The crowd gasped once more. Bewee’s eyes grew large as he looked down at his chest. Rasmere had not just drove, but buried, his iron up to the hilt in Bewee’s chest. The golden claymore fell from his hands and stuck in the ground. The High Engenium fell to his knees. Rasmere removed his sword, slowly. He backed away, and Bewee fell face first into the soft green grass.

  “Rasmere Elmidas advances to the next round,” the herald announced.

  The crowd became frenzied. Rotten fruit pelted Rasmere as he left The Stage. The crowd truly despised him.

  “Remarkable,” Koste said.

  “He felled a fatty. What an accomplishment,” Tontal said sarcastically.

  “Bewee was a skilled warrior. Do not let his looks deceive you. I fought by his side when we drove the Harpies from the forest a few years back,” Azonis said as he stroked his chin.

  “Have you ever in your life seen a weapon such as his bow?” Koste asked.

  “The arrow appeared from out of nowhere,” Tontal added.

  “It is an impressive weapon indeed,” Azonis said as he took his seat. “Let us not get worked up about him just yet. He has yet to face the best the tournament has to offer.”

  “The next match begins,” Koste said as Maltais Faroku and Alister Kale took to The Stage.

  This match ended, much like Maltais’s first match, abruptly. When the fat Engenium signaled for the match to begin, Alister let loose a single arrow. Maltais tucked and rolled forward. Before he had even come out of the roll, he slung a dagger at Alister, which sank deep into his throat, driving him to the ground. Maltais strode over to Alister’s body, pulled the dagger from his throat, and exited The Stage.

  “Maltais Faroku advances to the next round,” cried the herald.

  The crowd erupted with cheers. This High Engenium seemed to be their favorite.

  “Now that was impressive!” Tontal exclaimed.

  “Indeed,” Azonis responded.

  “It seems your nephew is well trained,” Koste said.

  “Maltais is the finest warrior Lasticall has to offer, and I am proud to call him family,” Tontal said.

  “He is a fine young Engenium, but he has yet to face a worthy opponent. Hold your excitement until he has been properly tested,” Azonis said.

  “Yes, my Lord,” Tontal replied.

  As the day lingered on, Rasmere Elmidas and Maltais Faroku kept racking up victories. Each of their matches was more impressive than the last. It became clear that these two Engeniums would be the ones who faced each other in the final round.

  “Rasmere Elmidas, make your way to The Stage!” the fat herald bellowed.

  Rasmere made his way to The Stage. Unlike his earlier matches, he was now met by cheers. He had warmed the hearts of the crowd with his impressive victories. They were now behind him as much as they were any High Engenium.

  “Maltais Faroku, make your way to The Stage!” the Engenium cried.

  Maltais was met with voluminous applause. As much as the crowd now approved of Rasmere, Maltais was clearly their favorite. He took to The Stage smiling and waving at his fans. He walked past Rasmere with a grin on his face. His silver braids bounced on his shoulders as he strutted by the Forest Engenium. Maltais stood a good fifty yards away from Rasmere, a tactic that puzzled Azonis.

  “Why does he put such distance between himself and the Forest Engenium? Does he not fear his bow?” Azonis asked.

  “I am sure he has good reason,” said Tontal with a notable lack of confidence.

  “If it were I, there would not be such open ground between us. Rasmere is deadly with his bow. Maltais gives him a huge advantage at such a great distance,” Koste replied.

  “BEGIN!” the fat herald familiarly cried.

  Rasmere, nor Maltais, flinched. Both Engeniums stood across from one another in the green open field. The crowd was on the edge of their seats. Finally, Maltais made the first move. He stepped forward and stuck his short swords into the dirt. He whistled loudly up at the sky. A shadow fell over The Stage as a giant Teratorn soared toward Maltais, clutching an unknown item in its talons. The bird released an the object and soared up and out of The Stage, disappearing from sight. Maltais bent over to recover the unknown object, never taking his eyes off of Rasmere. The object was wrapped in horse hide and secured with a length of rope. Maltais cut the rope and removed the horse hide, revealing a golden bow and quiver of golden arrows. He took the bow and stepped back into a direct line with Rasmere. He nodded his head, notched an arrow, and sent it flying toward Rasmere. The Forest Engenium drew back his own bow and sent an arrow flying in return.

  CRACK!

  The two arrows met mid-flight, sending shards of gold and splinters of opas raining down on The Stage. The crowd erupted with applause.

  “I do believe they are going to deliver quite a show!” Tontal exclaimed.

  “Shhh,” Azonis whispered, never taking his eyes from The Stage.

  Rasmere let loose another arrow. Maltais sent one of his own back in return.

  CRACK!

  The two arrows, once again, collided violently in the air. Maltais sent three more arrows flying Rasmere’s way. Rasmere defended once more.

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  Rasmere returned fire.

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  Maltais had defended all three shots as well.

  Maltais held his bow o
ut to his side and dropped it in the soft grass. He picked up his swords and said, “It seems that this match will see no end by way of the bow. Let us settle this properly.”

  Rasmere unsheathed his iron long sword and began marching toward Maltais. Both Engeniums sprinted to one another. They were in a dead run with their swords readied.

  CLANG!

  Iron and gold collided creating a blue-yellow flash. The force behind both of their blows sent them reeling backwards. They briefly locked eyes and came forward again. Rasmere lashed out with his sword. Maltais deflected the blow with his left, ducked, and then slashed at Rasmere’s legs with his right. Rasmere evaded his strike, leaping backwards. Maltais pressed Rasmere with both of his swords, swinging them wildly and powerfully. Rasmere was reeling backwards. His heel caught on the edge of a stone and he fell onto his back. Maltais pounced at him, but the Forest Engenium stuck out both of his legs and flipped Maltais onto his back. Both Engeniums rolled to their stomachs and took to their feet once more.

  This time Rasmere took the offensive. Rasmere’s strikes were more calculated. He lunged forward, leading with his sword. Maltais took a step back. He lunged again, but this time after feigning a slash. His sword grazed the cheek of Maltais, bringing first blood. Maltais, angered by this, came rushing forward once more. His sword slashed through the flesh of Rasmere's chest, opening up his defense.

  Maltais used the hilt of the sword in his off hand to bash Rasmere in the head. The Forest Engenium sprawled backwards. Maltais ran forward, jumped into the air, and kicked Rasmere square in the chest. Rasmere Elmidas fell to the ground, desperately searching for his breath. Maltais leapt into the air, aiming to plunge his swords deep into Rasmere’s defenseless body. The crowd raged with excitement.

  As Maltais was falling upon him, Rasmere leaned up and grabbed Maltais by his wrists, pulling his arms into a V. The golden short swords missed each side of Rasmere’s neck by inches. The blades dug into the ground, and Maltais’s neck came to rest on the intersection of the blades. The force of Maltais’s falling body drove the sharp edges of the swords into his neck. Blood poured freely from Maltais, as both of his jugular veins had been severed. Rasmere pushed Maltais’s lifeless body off of him, carefully removed the swords away from his own neck and stood covered in blood.

  The crowd was silent for a moment, until the herald cried, “Rasmere Elmidas is victorious!” They exploded with cheers.

  “Well, this was rather unexpected,” Azonis said with disappointment in his voice.

  “We cannot have a Forest Engenium as the Sword. It will upset the balance of all things,” Tontal said loudly, so he could be heard above the tidal wave of cheers. “What shall we do, my Lord?”

  Azonis was staring at Rasmere, deep in thought. He knew that he could not have a forest dweller in his court. But what choice did he have? This Engenium had made it through the tournament, fair and square. He fought bravely and with honor. Azonis’s thoughts turned to the final tasks in the tournament. There was still a hope that Rasmere would not make it past the beasts he had procured.

  “Release the Hormuts,” Azonis said.

  “What? The victor is scheduled to rest until tomorrow morning before he faces the beasts,” Koste said.

  Azonis turned on Koste, coming within inches of his face.

  “Do as I say!” the Sestian commanded.

  Koste turned to the fat herald and said, “You heard him,” he paused for a brief moment, looking back at Azonis, “release the Hormuts.”

  The fat Engenium stepped forward. His voice erupted through The Stage. “Rasmere Elmidas, prepare yourself for battle.”

  Rasmere did not look surprised. He knew that the Sestian did not want a Forest Engenium in his court. It must have come as a huge surprise to Azonis that he had advanced to the end of the tournament against the large number of skilled High Engeniums. He drew his bow and nodded.

  “Release the Hormuts,” the herald cried.

  The crowd gasped. Hormuts were extremely rare in Calencia, they were almost extinct. Hormuts were the largest and most vicious canines in all of Calencia. They hunted in packs, which made them all the more dangerous. A steep bounty had been placed on the savages many years ago, greatly thinning their numbers.

  A gate on the opposite end of the fighter’s entrance slowly rose. Silence fell over the crowd as the gate stood open. A low growl began to climb from the darkness of the holding pen. The growls became louder and louder and louder. Suddenly, six mangy brown Hormuts exploded out of the holding pen, racing toward Rasmere with their large, razor sharp teeth exposed. Rasmere began to unleash a barrage of arrows from his bow, killing four of the Hormuts before the other two were upon him. He drew his sword in the nick of time and extended it in front of him, skewering one of the beasts through its neck.

  The last Hormut let out a chilling howl, mourning its fallen brothers. It lunged at Rasmere and clamped down on his sword as he brought it up to block the attacks. The Hormut violently ripped the sword from his hand with its powerful jaws and flung it across The Stage.

  Rasmere was slowly circling the beast, awaiting its next attack. The Hormut leapt forward, and Rasmere grabbed it by the jaws. The force of the Hormut behind its weight drove Rasmere to the ground. The Hormut fiercely snapped its teeth at Rasmere’s throat. The canine was only inches away from spilling the Forest Engenium’s blood all over the green grass.

  Slowly, Rasmere began to extend his arms, pushing the Hormut away from him. He grasped the beast by the back of the skull and lower jaw. With a rapid jerk, he snapped the Hormut’s thick neck. It let out one final yelp and went limp.

  The crowd was on the verge of destroying The Stage with their rowdy applause. Rasmere, throughout the tournament, had put on a spectacular show, and the crowd was in love with him.

  Azonis slammed his fist down hard on his table. “Send out the Ganthor!” Azonis roared.

  Koste and Tontal stared unbelievingly at him.

  “Did you not hear me? Send out the Ganthor, now!” the Sestian demanded.

  The fat Engenium hurriedly said, “Ready yourself! Release the Ganthor!”

  Before the crowd or Rasmere could react, another gate opened. A Ganthor came stampeding toward the Forest Engenium. He fired several arrows at the beast, but to no avail. It kept charging at furious pace.

  The Ganthor was a hulking beast, twenty feet tall and ten feet wide, wearing only a loin cloth. It clutched a large spiked club. Its pale gray skin was riddled with scars. It had a wide, nasty mouth which was filled with sharp teeth. Most of the surface of the Ganthor’s head was covered with hundreds of tiny eyeballs. It breathed heavily and drool dripped from its mouth.

  The Ganthor brutally slammed its club into the ground. Rasmere jumped out of the way, firing several more arrows as he did. The beast turned on him and brought its large three-toed foot down on the ground, trying to stomp the pesky ant that nipped at his flesh. Rasmere, once again, evaded the attack. This game of cat and mouse went on for what seemed like an eternity.

  The crowd was on the edge of their seats. Rasmere was running out of wind, but so was the Ganthor. Its attacks were becoming fewer and at a less rapid pace. Rasmere knew that his opportunity to slay the beast was at hand and that he must act. He waited patiently for the Ganthor to swing his club. When that moment came, Rasmere grabbed onto one of the club's spikes and was hoisted high into the air.

  The Ganthor frantically searched the ground for the tiny Engenium. He was turning in circles looking for Rasmere, oblivious to his whereabouts.

  Rasmere slid down the club and ran up the Ganthor’s arm. The multi-eyed monster looked to his club, then to his arm, but Rasmere was now on his neck making his way toward its greasy head. The Ganthor swatted at Rasmere, like a gnat.

  Rasmere scaled the beast until he stood upon the crown of its head. The Ganthor thrashed its neck trying to shake Rasmere off of him. The Forest Engenium pulled his sword and slid down its head to the front of its face, digging his
fingers into as many of the beast’s eyes as possible. It let out a shriek of pain.

  Rasmere was dangling in the air with one hand on his sword and the other secured into a freshly popped eye. An eye, much larger than the others, sat in the center of the Ganthor’s face. Rasmere sank his sword into the Ganthor’s eye and ripped it out; creating a large laceration that ran the length of the eye. The Ganthor shrilled in pain and fell to its knees, sending Rasmere tumbling to the ground.

  When Rasmere smashed into the hard ground, he rolled backwards and drew his bow in one swift motion. He released twenty arrows into the Ganthor’s ravaged eye, each one sinking deeper than the last. The beast let out one final cry and fell to the ground.

  The crowd’s shouts shook The Stage. Rasmere stood up and looked toward Azonis Ferrini, hoping that this was the last beast he would face.

  “Set it loose,” Azonis said, not taking his eyes off of Rasmere. “Release the Pranther!”

  There were no objections from his constituents. The herald called out to the crowd. After attempting to quell the crowd several times to no avail, the herald motioned for the gate keeper to open the gates. With the opening of the final gate, the crowd instantly became hushed, as a very unusual being entered The Stage.

  The beast that entered The Stage was a Pranther, a cross between man and panther. The last known Pranther had died over seven hundred years ago at the hands of the Kwaynots. All of Lasticall was in awe at the sight of this mythical beast. No one was sure how Azonis came about procuring such a creature, but the crowd loved him for it.

  Pranthers were fearless, savage, warriors of old. They were once a dominant race in Calencia, but their barbaric customs had no place in the ever changing world. Their eagerness for war and lack of diplomacy ultimately led to their supposed extinction. Everyone believed them to be long gone, never to be seen again. Nonetheless, here one stood walking on its hind legs with its long tail dragging the ground behind it.

  The feline-like creature was at least six feet tall. Its body was thick with muscle and covered with a silk, purple fur. It had sunlight yellow eyes and long sharp teeth. The Pranther was wielding a silver long sword in its right paw and a shield in its left.

  Rasmere and the Pranther locked eyes momentarily. The cat-like creature let out a piercing cry, resembling the scream of a woman being butchered, and began bounding toward Rasmere. Rasmere, as always, held his ground with bow in hand. He watched carefully as the Pranther darted toward him. This creature was fast, very fast. Rasmere was having extreme difficulty keeping his eyes locked onto it. The Pranther leapt high into the blue sky. Rasmere looked up and raised his bow, but the sun blinded him. He lost sight of the airborne creature. He only had time to fire a single arrow before the Pranther fell on him. The crowd fell silent once more.

  Azonis had left his seat and was leaning over the railing to get a closer look at what had just happened. Suddenly, the crowd erupted in cheers as Rasmere pushed the Pranther off of him and took to his feet. He stood victorious once more.

  “No!” Azonis screamed as he slammed his fists down on the railing.

  Rasmere called out to him, “I am ready. Send your next beast. It will meet the same fate as the others.”

  Azonis would have liked to have sent every dangerous creature in Calencia at Rasmere, but he had no more at his disposal. He had prepared to give a worthy High Engenium a meticulous test of strength and cunning. He had not made preparations to destroy a seemingly undefeatable Forest Engenium. As much as he detested the thought of having a Forest Engenium as his Sword, he must follow through with his offer or face civil war. Looking on the bright side, Azonis had just gained the servitude of the most skilled warrior in all of Lasticall. Surely I can break him? I am sure I can use him to my advantage.

  Azonis addressed the crowd. “Good citizens of Lasticall. I declare Rasmere Elmidas winner of the Tournament of the Decade and bestow upon him title of Sword of the Sestian, if he wishes to accept this most glorious position.”

  Rasmere stepped forward, bowed to one knee and said, “It would be my honor to serve you, my Lord.”

  “As you wish,” Azonis said turning to the crowd. “Everyone, give a big round of applause for your new Sword.”

  The crowd cheered Rasmere, for he had put on the best show any of the Engeniums had ever seen. He had won the hearts of every Forest Engenium and High Engenium alike.

  Azonis turned to Tontal and begrudgingly said, “Great. This has turned into a most depressing day,” and stormed off back to his castle.

  Later that day, Rasmere was welcomed into the castle where Azonis presented him with a golden suit of armor, which Rasmere hesitantly declined, and a golden long sword that he graciously accepted. He could tell that Azonis was not happy that he had won, a fact that he knew beforehand. Azonis had to despise the fact that a Forest Engenium had won his tournament and would be occupying a position of power in Lasticall, not to mention residing in the castle. Rasmere vowed that his newly acquired position would not change him. He would use this power to somehow, some way, bring equality to the Forest Engeniums.