Chapter Eleven: The Festival of Steel

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Jergan cursed as he failed to land a ring on the bottle once again. He had been trying for the last fifteen minutes to get just one ring around one of those god-damned bottles but every time, they bounced off and fell to the ground, as the man running the game stood by and grinned.

"It's rigged," he complained to Bart as they left the stand, "Damn thing has always been rigged! He cheated me out of my gold!"

Bart shrugged, "You were the one that fell for it. Besides it's not not rigged. Someone went straight to Lord Yorod about it and he decided to test it. Got it on his first try."

The Festival had a colorful first morning; all the townspeople castle workers all came looking for entertainment after a long night of drinking. Locke, Gor, and Elora were slow to join them, so Jergan and Bart moved in before the crowds did. Everywhere there were stands and tents with people bringing exotic and exciting things from the corners of the map. There was one man with a tangle of snakes in each hand, and claimed that a drop of venom from either of them was enough to kill a dozen men. Some Userians came with ivory taken from the bodies of the great beasts of the south and carved into magnificent figures, and on their shoulders sat little  monkeys in caps and holding out tiny mugs to collect coins. There was one man, Darian, who claimed to have a treasure that was stolen from the horde of Alanor, an acient castle in the far west; nobody with a right mind believed him.

By far the most enticing attraction brought to the festival was the legendary House of Pleasures, which sailed up North from Cargho every year in their great Crimson tent to entertain the rich Lords of Liticea. It was a pleasure Jergan and Bart could not hope to indulge in.

Of Course there were also the games. Not only the little stands like what Jergan played, but also Archery games where a card was nailed to a board and the goal was to hit it with an arrow from afar. Anyone who pierced it got to keep a card, as a trophy of their skill with a bow. Another favorite activity was the Run of Horns; it involves a long trail covered on both sides by tall fences, and players try to get from one end to the other, however they must survive a stampede of angry bulls in order to do so. The first man to make it over alive is declared the winner. Jergan's uncle participated a decade ago and was one of the first to climb over the side fences to safety.

"We should ask Locke if he would do that," Bart said as they saw the fence being put up. It was set up outside the main area so any escaped bulls do not cause too much havoc.

Jegan laughed, "He would be thick enough to do it.'

If fact he was. They returned to the barracks to find Locke, Gor, and Elora eating breakfast. When given the challenge, Locke stood up and proudly accepted.

It was after the mid-day banquet that the Horn Race began. In a small pen at the end of the track, twenty angry bulls were being held. Their loud bellows let the participants know what was to come. All day they have been taunted, poked, and teased, and they were itching to give someone a good thrashing. Already some poor soul lost his eye to a rogue horn.

Locke Horchaster kept his promise and was the first on the starting line. Just behind him was the gate with the bulls. Gor, Bart, Jergan, and Elora were leaning against the fence halfway down cheering him heartily; 'Don't get a horn up your ass!' Gor told him before he got on  the track.

There were at least thirty other people on the track with him. Entrance into the competition was free and the reward can be prosperous, if one could get to the other end. Locke recognized a few people from the school and from around the town, like Aeron, the Butcher was just to his right.

"Good luck Aeron," he shakily said.

"Thank you, Sir Locke. If I die tell them I want to be buried with my sword."

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