Harbinger Of Doom: The Attainer

31. The Archery Contest (2)- Commencement

Prior to the commencement of the contest, Mo and Lores met some other contestants. Based on Lores' evaluation, some were trouble free while some weren't so nice. But all in common were ignorant of the fact that Mo wouldn't participate.

Lores could tell how grand and momentous the contest was to the people of Liz. Well, while people were laughing and chatting with those they had not seen in a while, Lores was not left out of the impromptu encounters.

He once again collided with young Marquis Hancho.

Young Marquis Hancho was dressed as elegantly as ever. His regal robe lined with silvery embroidery along the collar and sleeves stood out among those around him. A hand was kept on his back while the other wielded a fan, thus, adding to his capabilities.

When the scholarly Hancho sighted Lores from afar, he squinted his eyes to ensure he'd seen clearly. How a street fighter appeared in an occasion meant for the elites was worth wondering about. His face became paler and paler as the figure of an abashless Lores edged closer.

Lores was clad in a navy blue satin and a pair of boot like every one of the prince's escort guards. His thick long hair cascaded towards the earth, pigtails extending from the back of his head down to the shoulders and asleep on his breasts. A kerchief was tied round his head. His sword was fastened to his side as usual. His face was as lustrous as monolith, his exquisite charm unfettered.

Lores stood on ceremony along with non-stop flatteries flowing from his mouth. Even him could not tell if he was ridiculing the young marquis by trying to be friendly. After a session of bickering back and forth, they came back to the hot issue of the contest. Hancho held the belief that hoped for an era where talents would be chosen by books and not swords and spears. His faraway expression and the wide fan that waved back and forth emphasized how soon he wished for that era to finally show up.

Lores rolled his eyes and smacked his forehead. The thought was quite laughable, but it could only be realized when many years of peace had been achieved. However you may view it, choosing scholars or civil officials through combat skills wasn't apt. The same goes for knights.

"If everybody becomes a scholar, then the world would be imbalanced." Lores uttered thoughtfully. Hancho stopped for a while. He stared at Lores with reason. As someone who believed greatly in his abilities, Hancho loved debating controversial topics. Lores really made a vital point.

"If you had been this reasonable, then we could've become friends. But you're quite extreme. What a shame." He clicked his tongue, jittered his head as if regretting something then sluggishly walked away.

It was 12 noon. The designated time was getting closer and closer. Lores could see Mo having a discussion with a man (General Russ) not older than fifty. His bunned hair was decently held bound and firm by a hair piece, and a frizzy beard covered his jaw. For the short time the conversation lasted, the man talked in a perky manner before they brought their heads down and parted ways. Actually, Mo talked nothing much other that the normal pleasantries.

Considering General Russ had a neutral ground in the court in terms of having a favourite candidate for the crown prince spot, getting acquainted with Mo was an indication that he may climb down the fence soon enough. Russ was an integrious man. He was decisive and a bigger picture looker. Seeing how he backed Mo that day the latter reported himself of misplacing the seal could be a good turn out for Mo.

It would be a massive addition to Mo's league because of his title as general.

The time finally came. An enormous drum of about five feet high was pounded repeatedly to signal the commencement of the contest.

King Elead sat domineeringly on a spacious seat prepared on an ostentatious platform. Beside him, a facially youthful woman sat graciously like a plum tree in a quiet courtyard, her hands resting gently on her laps. She was clothed in a moon-white gown, and a calm smile that was a enough to calm a depressed soul played on her rosy red lips. She was the queen consort. She never showed up in public nor indulge in political affairs, but an event like this was always an exception. It had much relevance, and was held in high regard.