The Four Swords-Chapter 149: Brothers

I thought through the schedule of the tournament. I would soon see my brother cross blades with Sir Chalmers.

"Please bring forth the next champions! Sir Benate will represent the clan of Bear. Sir Chalmers will represent the clan of Falcon." The Queen announced.

The banners in the crowd shifted from blue and green to gold and crimson almost instantaneously. Everyone wanted to cheer for someone, even if their own clan was not represented in the fight.

The turnover between matches took a little bit of time and I saw peddlers and keen businessmen taking the opportunity to sell tournament wares and refreshments to the captive audience. My eyes followed one of the vendors as an excuse to see Gella again.

She certainly captivated my attention. Nothing about her could be described as childish. She grew up while I was not paying attention, and I suppose I had too.

It hit me like a ton of bricks that I was now the second oldest swordsman when I had been the youngest earlier in the year. At least I was not the oldest. My steadying breath must have been misunderstood by my Swordsman counterpart in the royal box.

"I always get nervous for my brother too." Lord Garrison remarked.

Although I pieced together in my mind that Sir Chalmers was Sir Balor's father, I had only thought of him in that capacity. The man had more than one relation. Of course I should have thought more about his brother than his son.

If Sir Balor only knew that my thoughts gave him more notoriety than his Swordsman, I am positive his pride would swell. I can count him not being able to read minds as another blessing in my life.

"It is hard for me to see him in action when I wish I were the one in the tournament." I admitted to the eldest Swordsman in an attempt to refocus my attention.

"It is not always easy letting others fight their own battles." Lord Garrison replied.

That simple phrase seemed to have more meaning in it than I understood. Yet another reason to be thankful I was not the eldest nor wisest Swordsman.

"Indeed" was all I managed in reply.

"May both warriors make us proud. Good luck, Lord Holden." my counterpart held out his hand to shake mine.

"You too, Lord Garrison." I took his hand forcefully and was rewarded with a genuine smile.

"See Cali. Other clans can be civil and wish the others well. Maybe Jack would do the same if he were in this box." Princess Alina motioned toward her guardians.

"Sure they can," Lady Calista waved off her friend's point. She was still clearly frustrated. "Can we focus back on watching men hit each other with sharp things?"

I do not recall Lady Calista paying too much attention to the last tournament round, but clearly that was preferable than losing an argument with Alina. I could not blame her. I excitedly awaited two men battling each other as well.

Alina laughed at her counterpart. "There will be plenty of fights today."

Benate and Sir Chalmers finally took center stage. They shook hands, as was polite. Somehow the rigid stance of Sir Chalmers made him seem pompous. I could be projecting my opinions of his son upon the man in question. However, I do not think that apple fell far from the tree.

Whatever caused him to stand so erect, worked in his favor for his waistline. The man looked like he had lost weight since he was presented as a champion on horseback.

A herald trumpeted the start of the fight. My brother started the fight charging toward his opponent. He swung hard and fast with a guttural yell permeating from his being.

I smirked. Having him as an older brother, I had fallen victim to that startling beginning of a fight more than once. It was almost a signature move between the two of us sparring as youth.

Although I learned to steel my nerves against such a scream, it took practice. Even though I knew how to react, it still sent a shiver down my spine. A hulking figure charging toward you with a weapon in hand wailing a battle cry naturally evokes fear.

"Oh my." I heard Queen Valerie exclaim. Clearly not everyone was expecting Benate's yell.

Benate's strike landed square in the middle of Sir Chalmer's blocking blade. If the man had waited a moment longer to block, my brother's strike might have knocked him out.

Sir Chalmer's stance fell from its rigid start allowing his plump belly to jiggle more naturally. His physique sculpted into a leaner version of his son's bulging form. No question that the two men were related.

"That had to hurt." I heard Lord Garrison hiss.

I could not disagree. The clashing of the two swords rang out proving how forceful Benate's strike really was.

The match continued with my brother playing offense. Sir Chalmer returned a few good swings met with blocks. My brother's brawn overwhelmed his shorter opponent, rarely letting Sir Chalmers get much power behind any blow before blocking it.

Benate left behind conventional footwork. Even if it looked a little sloppy, the effectiveness could not be questioned. Slowly he forced Sir Chalmers to retreat. Step by step, the stout opponent crept closer to the arena wall.

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I critiqued my brother in my head. Clearly he must be having the time of his life not to realize a caged opponent is a dangerous opponent.

Sir Chalmers swings became more erratic. Unpredictability requires focus. Block after block became haphazard. The clock ticked down for Sir Chalmers to make a move. He finally did.

Benate swung low toward Sir Chalmer's middle. Taking the hit, Sir Chalmers swung high. His sword met with the side of my brother's helmet.

Both blades struck their opponents, causing both men to take a step back. I could see the leather strap of Benate's helmet fall loose. That was far too close.

Benate regained his composure and swung two more times, hitting Sir Chalmers both times. The herald blew his horn announcing the end of the match.