After letting the spectacle pass by, Eric continued to push through the dense crowd, constantly bumping into people but getting nothing but a smile in return for his trouble. It was about this time that it really hit him how many strangers were here. He knew almost everyone in town, but there were so many faces he didn’t recognize. Even considering the local farmers that had come for the festival, it still seemed a large number of people he couldn’t place.
They must have traveled from Denark and maybe even as far as Athsmin. Very dangerous to travel that far just for Sanctas, he thought. The local farmers lived in relative safety because of the militia Lord Pike sent out just to patrol the local area regularly. They were instructed to change their route every day just in case it was being monitored by someone or something. But anyone traveling from another town was really on their own. Eric could not see risking life and limb for a local festival!
Before he knew it, he could see the platform up ahead that had been set up days ago for the local events. Getting closer, he could now observe the activity taking place high up on the canvas stage. Two knights, each wearing full plate mail, were clanging away at each other. The choreography was brilliant, as they had practiced for weeks leading up to this one event. The first had silver plate mail with a green tree painted on the breastplate. He carried a golden shield with a red half-moon in one hand and a long sword in the other.
The second knight was clearly playing the part of evil. His armor consisted of jet-black plate mail with a red skull painted on the breastplate. He carried no shield, but spun a black morning star in each hand. The spiked balls of death whirled around him in circles until he changed the pattern to figure eights then back to circles again, attacking at all the right moments to have the weapons bounce hard but harmlessly off the other knight’s shield. Then he would go on the defensive and work the morning stars into looping circles to deflect the long sword’s attacks. The weapons were real, so the dance had to be perfect, which it was.
The crowd here was mostly children cheering and clapping every time the golden knight pressed the attack while booing loudly with their thumbs down each time the dark knight did. Eric only watched for a minute, admiring the dance for what it was, but he had to keep moving on to the next area. He had made a promise to a friend that he intended to keep.
It was hard to approach the roped-off circle. The crowd here was densely packed in, waving their arms and cheering. When Lord Pike stepped into the homemade ring, which was nothing more than a series of posts dug into the ground with two ropes that attached them all, wild clapping and whistling followed. He waited a moment to let the crowd settle. When it appeared they were not going to calm down any time soon, he gestured with his hands, palms facing down to try to quiet what was increasingly becoming a mob.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said in a booming voice to try to overpower the many that were still hooting and whistling, “we now present our annual quarterstaff competition.” The now re-energized crowd boomed with applause and shouting. Lord Pike tried his best to talk over them. “We have a special challenge lined up this year unlike any show we have ever done.” That did the trick. After the collective shocked sound of air being taken in by everyone at once, it seemed as if you could hear a pin drop.
“In this corner I present the challengers Amos, Brant and Cory Brendon—the Brendon brothers!” Confused clapping began slowly as three enormous young boys stepped under the ropes. All three were blond and muscular, with very similar faces. It was clear they were brothers, possibly triplets, each holding a staff of his own. To make matters even more confusing, they were each shirtless and wearing the exact same loose brown pants, making them look identical.
“In this corner I present the defending champion, who has agreed to fight all three challengers at once! I present the champion...Jacob Couture!”
What? Eric thought. Is he crazy? The collective gasp from the crowd echoed his thoughts. Just then Jacob climbed under the other side of the rope with his staff in hand. Arrogantly he leaned on the rope with one elbow as he began whispering in the ear of a young girl just outside of the makeshift ring.
Then, after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek which made the poor girl turn ten shades of red, he slowly glided to the center of the ring with his staff held loosely over one shoulder. He then looked each opponent directly in the eye one at a time, holding each gaze for several seconds, bringing a collective Ohhhhh! sound from the crowd. Then he slowly drifted back to his corner, twirling his staff above his head with the speed of a tornado.