I twirled my fingers around where the paper used to be in my hand. Queen Valerie would be the first to know the results, no matter what I wished.
The queen looked down at what was in her hand and sighed. I do not think she could have a more cryptic reaction. Surely Benate would come out the winner.
"The judges were not unanimous in their decision." Queen Valerie boomed above the crowd.
Instead of a hush falling on those gathered to hear the ultimate decision of who won the match, the more rowdy of the throngs started chatting for their champion.
Celebratory inebriation ran rampant within certain parts of society during tournaments. The cheers of those intoxicated drowned out thought.
Queen Valerie raised her hands to settle the crowd. Even her imposing and impressive presence did not deter the crowds from their fervor.
Moments seemed to stretch into minutes, perhaps hours. I think it was just my own anticipation affecting my perception of time. I did not like not knowing if my brother would advance to the final round of the tournament and that made this cacophony seem to last forever.
Like a school teacher with unruly pupils, the queen leaned forward and gazed at the crowd, waiting for the respect she deserved. The metaphorical class settled without more of a deterrent.
"The judges ruled with a two to one split. The decision comes with a note that this match was astonishingly hard to adjudicate because of the skill and swiftness of both opponents." Queen Valerie beamed at both men.
My brother and Sir John had both taken the time to remove their helmets before the queen began her announcement of the winner. Benate's uncertain smile was unmistakable to me.
Most of the time my brother is unflappable in his confidence, but on the rarest of occasion, doubt seeps in and his smile does not fully display.
Sir John took a deep breath as he looked toward Queen Valerie. His look seemed to long for something. He might have a tournament victory snatched from his grasp in moments.
"All judges agree that the round could have been won by either champion if they had not faced each other. Congratulations are in order to both participants! Thank you for an excellent match, Sir Benate and Sir John!" The Queen continued.
Sir John turned toward my brother and they shook hands. Both men seemed to lose some of the tension they held in their shoulders even before the final victor was announced.
"The Judges have ruled in favor of Sir John of the clan of Stag. Thank you both for an exciting display of swordsmanship!" Queen Valerie ended.
Benate's face fell for only a moment before his genuine smile erupted across his cheeks. He was resilient and I know he tried his best. He would be content with that.
I, however, was not as strong in heart as he was. A pang of disappointment rang through me as I realized my clan was the first to be fully eliminated from the tournament bracket.
My own self importance flooded my brain momentarily as I wondered if my name in the tournament bracket would have changed today's outcome. Such thoughts were not helpful and there was no need to live in the past.
My applause joined the crowd. Benate had Sir John's hand held high in the air. He hyped up the crowd into a rambunctious chant screaming John's name. Sir John burst into a laugh.
I scanned the crowd to find Gella. Although her enthusiasm did not quite match the clan of stag supporters that surrounded her, she was chanting and laughing at my brother's ridiculousness.
Queen Valerie motioned for the trumpeters to sound off. The arena should be cleared for the next match.
If my brother could have lifted a probably unwilling Sir John onto his shoulders to carry him out in victory, he probably would have done so. As it was he instead led Sir John with hands still raised around the entirety of the circumference of the arena before clearing the field of play.
At least Benate knows how to graciously lose. My mother will get to rest a little easier tonight knowing her son is not going to be in harm's way voluntarily again tomorrow.
Sir Gavin and Lord Carrion entered the arena field as the cheers started to subside. Perhaps it might have been easier to control the crowds if Benate's match had been the final one of the day.
Fanfare from the stands changed to cheering on the clans of Wolves and Falcon with red and green banners. Gella, I noticed, did not raise either flag. That made me smile.
The trumpet sounded yet again and the match began. Lord Carrion shifted his weight from side to side almost nervously. Princess Alina's favor still hanging from his wrist caught my eye. It did not seem to be fully tucked in his gauntlet. I hope he did not lose it by mistake.
Sir Gavin made the first move, feinting one way and then striking swiftly. The first strike of the match belonged to Sir Gavin. Impressively, he kept his shoulders squared with Lord Carrion throughout the motion. I could not blame him, knowing about his injury on his back.
That first strike unleashed Lord Carrion's frustration as he began an onslaught of advancing swings. Sir Gavin blocked each one skillfully before he attempted his own advance.
Each hit moved Carrion a step backward. His defensive swings became more and more unpredictable after he brought both hands up to the hilt.
Suddenly, my earlier concern happened. Princess Alina's favor hit the ground. Losing a favor from the crown princess in a public fight was not what anyone in good standing in court would consider respectful.
Sir Gavin stopped his advance immediately seeing the favor fall. The honorable golden child from the clan of Falcon scurried to retrieve the favor as quickly as possible. As soon as he bent over, Lord Carrion's pommel met the injured shoulder blade of Sir Gavin.