Page 1 of The Champion

One

“Test of arms, my bloody arse. They ought to call it the test of incompetent fools,” Stryder of Blackmoor muttered as he made his way from the list toward his tent.

There hadn’t been a single man on the field he had sparred against who had posed any contest to him at all. He might as well be fighting his brother Kit for all the skill the so-called knights showed.

It was a damn shame when a man couldn’t find a decent opponent.

His own knights who traveled in his company. Raven, Will, Swan and Val. But at this hour of the day, the only thing they would be fighting off was a headache caused by their excesses of last night. Or knocking each other out of the way as they rushed to the garderobe before said excess fled their bodies.

The five of them had been too long abroad and the temptation of the English court and its decadence had been more than Stryder’s men could resist. His four knights had spent all of last evening carousing and drinking.

The first to vanish had been Will who’d supped with a rich widow. After the meal and several tankards of mead, Will had discreetly made an exit with his lady in tow.

Raven had collapsed from drink in the hall just after midnight, leaving Stryder and Swan to see him abed. Once they had the young man safely in his cot, Swan had left to meet up with his latest paramour– a woman the knight had known all of an hour.

And Val...

Val had ended up in a drinking bout with several of the king’s men. No doubt, Val’s head would hurt for a week or more given how much beer and ale the man had consumed.

At half past three in the morning, Stryder had wished his friend well and sought his own bed.

He hadn’t seen Val since.

When Stryder had gone to break his fast before practice this morn, the hall had been clear of his men and none of them had been in their tents.

Surely they had risen from the dead and returned to camp by now.

Then again, most likely not.

As Stryder left the practice list, he was mobbed by more than a score of maidens seeking his favor. They varied greatly in ages and size.

But one thing united them all⁠—

Their desire to become the next Countess of Blackmoor.

How he wished Simon of Ravenswood were here to help combat the shrill women who lauded his virtues as they elbowed each other and pranced trying to gain his notice.

Even his brother, Kit, would be of help.

But as usual, Kit was nowhere to be seen. No doubt he was off composing sappy angst-filled songs with his mewling friends whose only thoughts were trivial and asinine.

Stryder deflected that thought quickly, lest it test his temper even more.

“Lord Stryder, please choose me as the Lady of All Hearts!” one young woman screamed in his ear as she yanked at his black hair.

Stryder bit back a curse as he struggled to free himself of her demanding hand.

“Nay, I shall be the Lady. Is that not correct, milord?”

Stryder couldn’t answer due to other women shouting over him. The women each grabbed a hold of him and pulled at his surcoat and limbs while others were busy ramming their tokens into his armor and helm.

Not to mention his chausses...

“I got a lock of Lord Stryder’s hair!” one woman screamed as she fainted.

The other women stepped over her while another woman tried to swipe his hank of hair from the fallen woman’s grasp. The “unconscious” woman quickly bit her and then ran off with her trophy.

That only started a frenzy as other women tried to get their own piece of his flesh.