The first phase of the tourney, the archery phase, went by in the blink of an eye. When Daud found that he had made it to the second, final phase of the tournament, his heart soared. Finally, he was able to show off his prowess in the one-on-one duels! It was certainly the most anticipated part of the entire tournament, both for the spectators and the combatants. The underground chamber where they awaited seemed to come alive with excitement. Men chattered as if they were women, wondering who would be chosen to fight against whom and making their own judgments about the people around them.

He'd heard that Jonathan had been the best archer during the first phase. He'd rode as swiftly as the wind, they said, and that his arrows had flawlessly met their mark despite the unpredictable movements the dummies were making. Daud felt a surging pride for his friend, though Jonathan did not look like he was particularly rejoicing or prideful over his performance. In fact, amidst the livelier atmosphere of the hypogeum, Jonathan kept his silence.

Daud overheard the people talking about Jonathan, attributing his victory to his "cur's eyes". A frown creased his eyebrows. Men could be as cruel as women with their words. He'd known the people to not look upon a bastard very kindly, especially one who was half a canid calaian. Canid calaians had quite the bad reputation on Jordarys, second only to the platinum draconic calaians- tyrannical self-proclaimed rulers of the calaians who imposed their will upon their own race with an iron fist... or claw, should they shift into their platinum dragon forms.

"Pay their words no mind," Daud finally spoke, breaking the silence between them. "They must be envious of your outstanding performance."

A smile slid onto Jonathan's face as he shook his head. "Oh, no, I am not particularly bothered by their words," he replied. "There were merely other things occupying my mind. I'm sorry for my lack of conversation."

The wait was a long and dull affair. Daud found that they probably spent more time sitting around in the hypogeum, waiting for their turn. The muffled sounds of clashing longswords resounded from above the entire time. The short moments where Daud's turn came to face off against one of the other men in the room brought him more relief than anxiety. He relished the chance each time. The adrenaline through his veins, his steel clashing against his adversary's... It was a thrill, even if each duel did not last for long.

It was in the later stage of the event when Jonathan had been chosen to face off against Lord Faolahn. The moment the two men stepped out into the arena, the men in the hypogeum was abuzz. They made bets among themselves about who they thought would prevail.

"A mongrel hoping to face off against a varg?" Lord Manus Corrain jeered, loudly. "The stray dog should've stayed to licking off scraps."

Derisive laughter rippled across the room from those who heard the lord. Daud felt an acidic taste fill his mouth. Angry, burning heat surged within his chest. It was one thing to talk of Jonathan in such a despicable manner, but to outright mock him in the face of many great men? It brought Daud to his feet. However, before he could confront Lord Corrain for his profanity, another voice spoke up.

"Do not be so unkind, Lord Corrain!" Sir Brendan Ahlonn piped up. His voice still held its usual sunny tone, though a hint of reproach was in his voice. A calm smile was on his face. "Vargs are near extinction nowadays, yet the mongrels survive and grow in numbers. You may never know- the mongrel might end up licking the scraps off the varg's bones."

Several men chuckled in amusement, watching Lord Corrain to see how he would react to Sir Brendan's quip. However, Lord Corrain merely sneered.

"Near extinction? You mean like your bloodline?" he retorted, to the laughter of other men in the chamber.

Sir Brendan's face flushed red. Nobody was a stranger to the Ahlonns' notorious reputation for having a difficult time finding a spouse and procreating. It almost seemed like a curse that ran within their bloodline- Sir Brendan was only one of two remaining people in his generation of Ahlonns, the other being his only cousin. Still, to make fun of a person's predicament in such a manner drove Daud's patience to its limit. He strode up to Lord Corrain, the dark shadow of rage passing over his eyes.

"You know what we do to branches that rot?" Daud asked, in a calm voice that held a dangerous edge to it. "We cut them off. The same goes for other things- rotten fruit, rotten crops... and rotten tongues like yours, Lord Corrain."

All the eyes in the room were directed towards them. Lord Corrain bowed his head, though a sardonic grin was on his face. "My apologies, Lord Raine. Would you like to do the honor?" he asked, walking towards Daud. The man was taller than him, though Daud was shorter than most of the men in that room. "That is, if you can even reach my tongue standing on your tiptoes."

Daud lifted his chin, meeting the lord's gaze with his own steel-like, unflinching glare. "Why should I stand on my tiptoes, when I can bring you down to your knees?"

It was then that Sir Verghal Burne stepped up between the two of them. His face was deadpan, showing no anger nor fear as he held up both of his hands to separate the two of them. "Let us not start a brawl in the hypogeum," he said, coolly. "Don't the two of you have better things to do than to bicker, like preparing for a duel?"

Daud finally relented. Letting out a sigh, he gave Lord Corrain one last steely glare. The sounds of steel sliding over each other had stopped, followed by applause. All eyes turned towards the entrance to the underground chamber. Jonathan and Conall entered, taking off their helmets. Lord Connor Sulvayn boldly walked up to them.

"Which one of you won?" he asked.

Conall Faolahn bowed his head slightly. "I have been defeated, though I find no shame in it," he admitted. He nodded to Jonathan, a small uncharacteristic smile forming upon his brutish face. "The Hound lord fought well- it was an honor to have fought against you."

"The honor is all mine, Lord Faolahn."

There were dumbfounded looks on the faces of the men who'd doubted Jonathan. With a jolt of realization, Daud realized that Jonathan had made it to the final round of the tournament. Jonathan, his friend- no, his brother in spirit. Joy and pride surged through him. He felt a broad smile stretch his lips, so much that his cheeks almost hurt.

"Jonathan!" he exclaimed. "T-this means you will go into the final round, to fight one last time for the title of either Sword or Shield!"

Jonathan laughed. "Unbelievable, is it not?" he answered. A wide grin was on his face, displaying the sharp dog-like fangs that were embedded into his gums.

The herald came into the chamber, almost breathless from hurry. "Lord Daud Raine and Lord Manus Corrain!" he announced.

In that instance, Daud and Lord Corrain exchanged glares. Both bore equally sour expressions upon their faces. This only bolstered Daud's resolve. This was the second-to-last stage of the tournament. He'd made it this far- and the victor would go into the final round to fight for the title of Sword or Shield. He would not allow Lord Corrain to defeat him, not after the things he'd said and the way he'd acted. The two put on their armor and grabbed their longswords, before heading out to the field through separate doorways. The two met each other once more on the field, face-to-face.

The sound of the horn blasted through the air.

The two circled each other for a time, their stances low and their hands gripping their swords, poised to attack. Daud watched the other man through his helmet carefully, watching his movements and the way he positioned himself. On the field, gone was all the anger and thirst for vengeance. Lord Corrain was just another competitor in his eyes, just like all the other lords and warriors he'd previously fought. All that mattered was the careful calculation of his moves.

Very suddenly, Lord Corrain lunged at him with a strike, closing the distance between them. He moved so fast that Daud almost failed to parry him. Almost. He quickly deflected the blow, biting back a curse. The other man moved so fast, so full of aggression, that Daud had to put all his concentration into preventing Corrain's blunted blade from touching him. All the while, he tried to look for opportunities to strike back. He couldn't allow the man to trap him in a defensive state. Circling behind his adversary, Daud finally found an opportunity to strike back. He pushed his sword down with the blade of his own, before grabbing his wrist and twisting the hilt of the sword clean off his grasp.

The crowd roared with cheers. He heard the word "Raine" being called out by the masses. A surge of satisfaction filled him as he was led back to the hypogeum. He succeeded in what he set out to do. The dumbfounded, almost sullen expression on Lord Corrain's face as he took off his helmet was worth a thousand golden picas.

In his final round, Daud had to face Sir Brendan Ahlonn. For the first time in the day, he found his heart pounding loudly underneath his chest. The tranquility that had filled him throughout the tournament suddenly vanished, replaced with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. This was it. The moment that would decide which of them would get the honorable position as the Sword or Shield of the King. The sky was painted red by the setting sun as he stepped onto the field, sword in hand. Sir Brendan stood opposite to him, his face obscured by his helmet. A large fire mantis raising its toxic claws, the sigil of House Ahlonn, was emblazoned upon his armor. It was red as the color of the sky.

Sir Brendan Ahlonn made the first move, going after Daud with a quick strike to close the line between them. Unlike the previous duels, the spectators were deathly silent, watching with bated breath as the sound of steel rang through the air. Daud deflected his blade quickly. Sir Ahlonn's movements were vicious, yet also graceful. He saw how his years of training reflected upon his exceptional footwork, his posture, and the way his sword moved through the air. However, Daud did not falter.

Sir Brendan Ahlonn was merely another enemy on the field.

The next thing he knew, Sir Brendan Ahlonn had closed their distance. Their swords locked together, metal sliding upon metal. Suddenly, an epiphany struck Daud. He saw an opportunity- a chance to do something quite crazy. He pushed the cross-guard of his sword underneath Sir Brendan's fists, thrusting them upwards. He then proceeded to do something Sir Brendan had obviously not anticipated.

Daud hit Sir Brendan's helmet with the pommel of his sword.

The crowd bursted into gasps and groans as Sir Brendan stumbled backwards. Seeing his chance, Daud gave Sir Brendan a shove, causing him to lose his footing and fall to the ground. Daud pointed his blunted sword at the knight's neck.

King Aidan rose from his seat. "It looks like we have a winner."

The crowd burst into cheers as Daud helped Sir Brendan up to his feet. Sir Brendan gave his hand a firm shake as a sign of congratulations.

When he looked back, he saw Jonathan enter the field. A jolt of shock ran through his heart. Was Jonathan the victor of his round? Shock turned into joy the moment the fact seeped into his mind. The man he considered like a brother was going to fight by his side, as either the Sword or the Shield of the King.

Daud took off his helmet. King Aidan stepped down to the field, carrying within one hand a large shield with the emblem of Althewyn upon it and the other a sword. Daud knew they were the weapons passed down from Shield to Shield and Sword to Sword for generations of kings... yet to see them with his very own eyes, being passed down to him, filled him with a sense of awe.

"Sir Daud Raine, I bestow upon thee the Sword of Althewyn, to act as my right hand and to uphold the justice of the King," Aidan declared, touching Daud's shoulders in turn with the flat of the sword. "And to you, Sir Jonathan. I bestow upon thee the Shield of Althewyn, to act as my left hand and to protect the royal family with your life... and defend the weak."

"Arise."

Daud rose and accepted the sword. Jonathan did the same, accepting the shield. The entire crowd rose to their feet, erupting in a burst of cheers and applause.

He raised his sword to the air.

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: Not my proudest chapter in any way, having had a fit of writer's block in the middle of writing this >.< At any rate, I hope it is still a good enough chapter to keep you entertained!

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