Viking: Master of the Icy Sea

Chapter 148: The Knightly Tournament

The night before the tournament.

In the Royal Palace hall, dozens of Whale oil candles burned fiercely, illuminating the entire space as bright as day. Ragnar reviewed the list of participants and, struck by a sudden surge of enthusiasm, ordered the Scribe to add his own name to the roster.

"It has been far too long since I last took to the field. Haha, let me personally test the martial prowess of these young lads."

Hearing the King's declaration, the great Nobles standing on the right side of the hall had mixed reactions. Ivar let out a loud, piercing whistle. "Father, if we end up facing each other, do not expect me to show any mercy."

Prime Minister Pascal openly advised against it. "What knight would dare draw his sword against the King? Even if you were to win the tournament, your championship title would be heavily scrutinized by the public and lack any true credibility."

Upon hearing such a blunt and dampening remark, the King downed several goblets of wine in rapid succession. Fueled by the alcohol, he grumbled bitterly, "In that case, none of you great Nobles are allowed to participate either. Leave the opportunity to the lower-ranking knights who are desperate to make a name for themselves."

October 11, 851 AD.

On a bright and sunny morning, the first Londinium tournament officially commenced.

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the King, the two Queens, and five of his children (Bjorn was currently in Greenland) stepped out of their carriages one by one. Treading upon a scarlet wool carpet, they ascended the southern grandstand.

They were followed by Prime Minister Pascal, several cabinet members, and the powerful great Nobles. Once everyone had taken their seats, five buglers on the right side of the stand blew their horns, signaling the competitors to enter the arena in succession.Four years ago, Aethelwulf hosted the first knightly tournament in Oxford. The event received wildly enthusiastic support from the West Francia Nobles. Since then, a total of six tournaments had been held, and the rules had evolved over time.

The most obvious change was that the Spears used in the matches were now wrapped in soft felt, greatly reducing their lethality.

Clip-clop, clip-clop.

Horseshoes struck the ground with a crisp rhythm as hundreds of participating knights entered in formation. Clad in chainmail with brightly colored surcoats draped over their armor, they rode tall, majestic Frankish warhorses.

A Knightly title, proper armor, and a warhorse were the mandatory prerequisites for participating in the jousting events. The majority of knights had not brought a warhorse when presenting themselves to the King, and thus lacked the qualifications to even enter.

Arriving directly in front of the grandstand, the riders bowed slightly from horseback to show their respect for the Kingship.

After the Mounted combatants departed, an equal number of Foot combatants made their entrance. This group consisted mainly of lower-ranking soldiers and commoners, along with a small handful of knights who had arrived without warhorses.

Accompanied by a shower of petals tossed from the grandstands above, the opening ceremony concluded, and the first round of the tournament officially began.

The horns blared. Two knights charged at each other from the east and west ends of the arena. The moment their horses reached top speed, both riders lowered their Spears.

The thunderous drumming of hooves filled the air. The knight on the east struck his opponent's Oak shield with precision. With a sharp crack, the Spear shattered, exploding into a cloud of pale yellow wood splinters. As the two mighty steeds galloped past each other, the western knight plummeted to the dirt.

Instantly, the deafening cheers of the audience echoed into the sky. Viggo frowned, his eyes locked onto the triumphant victor.

"That man has no martial honor. He intentionally lengthened his Spear by half a meter, allowing him to strike his opponent first."

Soon, squires rushed onto the field, carrying the injured knight away on a wooden board for medical treatment. Two servants armed with brooms swiftly swept away the debris. Once everything was prepared, the second round commenced.

As a newly emerging sport, the rules of jousting were still riddled with loopholes.

One participant used a sharp-tipped lance, piercing straight through his opponent's body as easily as a hot knife slicing through butter. The arena erupted in loud boos. Completely disgraced, Ragnar immediately ordered the man's arrest, declaring he would be handed over to a judge for sentencing. "Opportunistic trickery! This is sullying the Honor of the Kingdom! If anyone else dares to use a sharpened Spear, I will force them to eat the iron tip alive!"

Listening to the King's furious roar, Viggo remained entirely expressionless. Human greed was bottomless. Even though these men had already been dubbed knights, they still harbored a burning ambition to climb the social ladder. If they managed to win the tournament championship, they would undoubtedly be entrusted with heavy responsibilities, paving their way to one day joining the ranks of the great Nobles.

As the event progressed, the audience witnessed even more blatant cheating.

Aside from switching to sharp-tipped Spears or increasing their length, some knights took full advantage of their warhorses' massive size, deliberately ramming their mounts into their opponents. One particularly cunning individual even coated his Oak shield in a thin layer of Silver, using the reflected sunlight to blind his adversary.

"Boring, absolutely boring," Ivar turned his head and complained to Gunnar. "Were the tournaments you hosted like this as well?"

"There were some, yes. But Opportunistic trickery can only defeat average knights. The ones who make it to the end are always true masters like Maurice."

By noon, Ragnar gathered his inner circle in a lavish, spacious tent for lunch, seeking their advice on the matter.

Pascal spoke up, "The organizers should provide the shields and lances. I believe we should use a softer wood for the tournament lances to minimize casualties."

Viggo added, "Erect a dividing barrier down the center of the arena. During the joust, the two knights can charge at each other from opposite sides of the wooden fence. This will completely prevent the horses from colliding."

Accepting their suggestions, Ragnar temporarily suspended the jousting events. He allocated two days to overhaul the rules, and in the meantime, he had the Foot combatants battle it out in one-on-one duels.

Compared to the intense and thrilling mounted jousts, the foot combat was noticeably less captivating. Generally, the taller and more muscular fighters held an overwhelming advantage, leaving the matches with virtually no suspense. The moment two combatants stepped onto the field, the audience could already guess the victor.

During the evening banquet, Viggo reflected on the day's events and felt thoroughly underwhelmed. "This tournament is likely a lost cause. Hopefully, once the rules are perfected, future tournaments will be much more spectacular."

"Future?" Ivar viciously tore into a honey-glazed pigeon, mumbling through a mouthful of meat.

"I just asked the administrator. The estimated cost of this tournament exceeds eight hundred pounds of Silver. The old man's original intention was to recruit talent and flaunt the royal majesty, but it's devolved into an utter farce. I doubt he'll even consider hosting an event like this for the next few years."

A moment later, Ivar thought of the Football matches popular in the Northern Marches, and sudden realization dawned on him.

"Could it be that your true reason for organizing Football matches is simply to save money?"

Knowing Viggo well, Ivar understood that the man had grown up accustomed to poverty, and thus always paid meticulous attention to costs in whatever he did.

A knightly tournament was an enormous drain on funds and easily resulted in severe injuries to both warhorses and knights.

In stark contrast, a Football match was the perfect alternative. It only required a flat grassy field, a round ball sewn from leather, and a mob of energetic, bored young men. Since it was a commoner's activity, the prize pool didn't need to be extravagant; a mere few pounds of Silver were more than enough to satisfy the winning team.

With this thought in mind, Ivar sparked an interest in introducing the sport of Football to his own lands. After all, he was currently strapped for cash and couldn't possibly scrape together the funds to host a tournament anyway. Trying something new seemed like an excellent idea.