Giving of Mirefield - POV's

Daemon Rahaleos POV

The two riders crashed into each other with the force of opposing battering rams, their lances finding purchase on each other’s armor and exploding into millions of tiny splinters. Daemon Rahaleos winced from where he was standing, watching the bout. Surely neither of these men could have weathered the storm that the other had wrought. Sure enough, one man, who Daemon knew to be Haidar Adve, went sprawling from his horse and crashing down to the hard earth below. There was a whoosh as his breath was pushed out of his lungs. A chorus of pained sounds came from the crowd around them, even as they began to roar and cheer with excitement. Ullus Front galivanted around the stadium atop his horse, as sure and true as a mighty oak that had just weathered a great storm. Daemon couldn’t help but be impressed. Judging by the ferocity with which the two men had jousted, he had been sure that it would end in a draw. Yet, there Ullus was, standing tall as the picture of heroic Knighthood. After he was done with his winning gallop around the stadium, Ullus made a show of hoping down from his horse and helping his opponent to his feet. Daemon watched with a calculated stare as the two men embraced, for all intents and purposes looking as if there were no hard feelings between them. It was a lie, of course. After all, Haidar Adve had just lost the opportunity to win an entire kingdom. Mirefield had originally been a small town. According to Daemon’s father, Vidor. Nothing more than a few tiny houses pressed together in a mostly unforgettable part of the kingdom. Yet, over the years, the town began to grow until its populace had exploded and flourished. Eventually, a keep had even been constructed, even though there had not been a royal family named to occupy it. That was about to change with this tournament.
The Lord of Tis'Envar, Royce Adve, had decreed that a jousting tournament would be held, with the grand prize for the winner being the keep of Mirefield. There had been confusion among the nobles at first. Surely Mirefield wasn’t worth the trouble of an entire tournament. Yet, those lords know knew the workings of the land well saw the opportunity for what it was. If the small town of Mirefield had been able to rise to such status in such a short period of time without a leader spearheading the charge, what might it be able to accomplish when it did have one? The spots in the tournament had been filled by only the most forward thinking and cunning of houses. Those who knew exactly what kind of prize was on the line.
House Adve, the house of the Lord of Tis'Envar, had unfortunately just been eliminated from the running. It wasn’t as if they needed any more land, though. They were the most prominent house in all of the land. Among the other competitors were of course House Front, who had managed to claim a berth in the tournament not once with Ullus Front, but again Peraxos Front. However, the latter had been eliminated from the running by none other than Daemon himself. It had been a match that most assumed would have gone the other way. The fact that House Rahaleos had made it into the tournament had been nothing short of a miracle. Daemon’s father had never been the most cunning man, but when he had seen the attention that the tournament was generating, he had known that there was something deeper at play. House Rahaleos, while boasting a small number of land holding, had never manged to win or be gifted a larger one on The Isles of Isaiath themselves. The bloodline of House Rahaleos was ancient, but they had never one the favor and fortune that some of the other great houses had.
In short, they were the relative unknowns. The underdogs. So, when Daemon had unhorsed Peraxos, the entire stadium had gone silent. They weren’t silent now, though. Their cheers reached a crescendo as Ullus Front, the clear favorite, raised his free arm into the air toward the audicene, his other clutching his helmet at his side, as he gave them a winning smile. Only Daemon saw as the triumphant knight turned his gaze toward Daemon, a dark storm cloud passing over his feature for the barest instant. Ullus would have revenge for Peraxos . He wasn’t about to let a no name knight from a no name house come in here and take what he saw as rightfully his. Daemon met the gaze with all of the defiance he could muster, even if inside he paled a little. Daemon had proven to be more than adept atop a horse. He was the best jouster in his house and had even won some minor tournaments. But here, on the The Isles, his accomplishments meant nearly nothing. Ullus Front jousted like a force of nature, and with that one gaze he told Daemon that that force would be coming for him. That was a worry for the future, though. Daemon’s next bout was about to start.
His heart began to pound in his chest as it always did before a match. Yet outwardly, he maintained a stoneface air of composure. He could not afford to show weakness here. Before, he had been overlooked by nearly everyone assembled. Seen as almost a novelty. But that had been silenced with his early victory. Now, the assembled crowd watched Daemon as he cantered onto the jousting arena, their faces a mixture of emotions and feelings. Some watched him, maybe believing that there was more to this unknown knight than met the eye. Others laughed, no doubt assuming that his first victory had been nothing more than dumb luck. None of what they thought mattered. The only thing that mattered to Daemon was winning, and he would do everything that he could to do so. Having so many eyes on him as he cantered out was a bit unsettling. This was by far the biggest tournament that he had ever been apart of. There were even whispers that this might be the biggest tournament that the land had ever seen. All for a town that had been unknown but a scant few years ago. It just proved how things often overlooked could grow so quickly before anyone knew what they were facing. Daemon took his position at one end of the arena as a page passed him a jousting lance. Across the way, his opponent for this bout, Warren Titus, made similar preparations. Once both competitors were ready, the waiting began. Daemon hated the waiting. In reality it lasted only a few moments. Just as long as it took the pages to clear the field and the official to give the go ahead for the match to begin. Yet to Daemon it felt like forever. His gripped his lance in a vice of iron, holding a small wooden shield with the other. Beneath him he could hear the breaths of the massive horse on which he rode, clinging to it with only the power of his legs. Eyes fixed forward, Daemon saw the flag come down from the corner of his eye. All of the muscles in his body tensed as his horse erupted into motion. The length of the field went by in a blur, until he could see the whites of Warren Titus' focused eyes through the helmet of his visor. The impact sent tremors throughout Daemon’s entire body, yet he did not falter and his aim was true. He absorbed the impact of the other mans lance, at the same time angling his own upward, sending Warren Titus off of his horse and into the air before he crashed to the ground.
This time, there was no stunned silence. The crowd roared and cheered for Daemon as he made his victory lap around the arena. The only man not cheering for him was Ullus Front. He didn’t even wait for Daemon to clear the field before he was once again riding out on his own horse, taking position for his next bout. Ullus unhorsed Ser Stallion Worgus as if it were child’s play. Daemon had eyes only for Ullus, who he was sure would make it to the final with Daemon if he himself made it that far. There was a tension building between the two men that would soon come to a head. However, when they did finally meet, it was not in the finals, but the semifinals. With Daemon as focused on Ullus as he had been, he had not seen the impressive showing of lord Rion Gaulden. The knight had unhorsed both Praem Hildergrass II and Joea Marnei, securing himself a place in the finals with his final win against Chase Redpool. Still, in order to get to the finals and meet Rion, Daemon would have to get through Ullus.
They took positions across from each other on the field, the entire stadium holding its breath in unison. By now, even though Ullus was still favored to be the winner, the crowd had realized that anything might be possible when it came to Daemon Rahaleos. They weren’t about to count him out just yet, even if most of them believed that he had no chance of winning the match. Daemon just hoped that Ullus felt the same way. He was smart enough to know that there was no way that he could beat Ullus front under normal circumstances. The man held a lance as if it was an extension of his own arm. He sat atop his horse as if he had been born there. But he also had an ego as big as a kingdom. His pride could not allow him to see this underdog knight as any kind of challenge. To Ullus Front, Daemon Rahaleos was nothing more than a lucky man who had found himself in a very unlucky situation. Daemon could use that. He could use Ullus' ego against him. The flag came down, and time slowed to a crawl. Daemon felt his horse’s heaving breaths under his legs. He saw the clods of dirt that Ullus' horse kicked up as it too ran, bringing the men ever closer together. Daemon tensed, positions his lance for a strike at Ullus' side. Ullus went for a straightforward stab, intending to use his superior strength to unhorse the other man. But Daemon knew that he would do it that way. He brought up his wooden shield and met the other mans lance, deflecting it away. Ullus hadn’t even bother to raise his own shield, and so, when Daemon’s lance connected solidly with his armor, Ullus’ eyes went wide with surprise, and Daemon allowed himself a small smile. Then, Ullus hit the ground.
The roar of the crowd was like nothing he had ever heard. Daemon was still riding the feeling of unhorsing Ullus as he made himself ready for the final bout with Rion Gaulden. Ullus had stormed off back to the keep, looking like a wounded puppy. But he had only been a stepping stone in front of Daemon’s path. The final hurdle lay here. Across the way, Rion gave Daemon a friendly smile, which Daemon returned. There were no hard feelings here. Just a match between to competitors. Still, there was an entire keep on the line. So, Daemon steeled himself for what was about to come. For the final time he kicked his horse into motion. For the final time, two knights barreled down toward each other. This last match would decide the fate of Mirefield. The distance closed between the two men. Daemon tensed and brought his lance and shield to bear even as Rion Gaulden did the same. This man was not like Ullus Front. He was not about to underestimate his opponent. If Daemon was going to win, he would have to do so with his skill alone.