A Knight in Rusty Armor (and in love)

[6] Noble Steed

I've been so caught up in worrying about my stature and my armor, in comparison to the rest of these guys, that I had overlooked something else, and now I kind of want to roll over and die.

We're all suited up, carrying our heavy supply bags and rolled-up tents on our backs. I'd be concerned that the weight was too much for the horses if I didn't know they were specially bred for these things. The announcer is going over the rules. I'm only half-listening, since I know most of this already. He gives us all maps with the route outlined. There's a general path that we're supposed to follow, with a few alternate routes in case of emergencies, with host towns highlighted and plenty of rest stops and encampments marked between them.

We don't just head straight for the princess and fight together to save her. Instead, we take some long way and face challenges and contests and fight monsters and free villagers along the way. Why? Because that's just the way we do things. That's how it's been for hundreds of years, and that's how it's going to stay. I can't help but suspect that when they draw up the official tournament routes, local monarchs have us do their work for them, while we're at it, by throwing whatever else they can think of into the mix.

When the announcer finishes, our journey officially begins. A bugle calls forth the stablehands, who bring each of us our steeds. They've been looked after for us since we arrived. Everyone else has a horse. I have something a bit... different. Think of it as a discount model.

I try to hide the redness of my face as I climb onto my animal. I hear snickering behind me. Thaddeus of Thunderhell and Alphonse of Castlebreak approach me on their horses, both proper ones with long legs and muscular frames. The two of them are pretty mean-spirited and have bonded to each other if only so they can back each other up when they're hurling insults. The act is transparent. They're both scared and intimidated and try to hide that by acting like grade school bullies.

"What is that? Is that even a horse?!" Thaddeus loudly mocks. I just roll my eyes.

"...She's actually a pony," I admit under my breath. "Her name is Buttercup."

Look: I wanted the thoroughbred stallion with the shiny coat and the cool name as much as the next guy. I really did. But horses are expensive, and my father is cheap on top of us being poor, so he got me a pony instead. I've grown attached to her over the years, so it feels bad to be embarrassed by her, especially since she's pretty damn fast for such a short thing... The point is, I don't actually have a horse. And I can see more and more of the other Knights noticing it.

"Why did they even let you enter?" Alphonse asks scornfully. That... actually stings a little. "You don't even have the most basic of—"

"Such a pretty girl."

Alphonse lets his words trail off, stunned, as he looks the the intruding voice. I'm as surprised as he is.

Lancelot Elvensword is affectionately stroking Buttercup's muzzle, smiling faintly as he does so. His own steed, a reddish-brown thoroughbred, waits patiently behind him. His other hand hold the reigns.

"She is really cute," a somewhat squeaky voice chirps. I turn to see a boy that doesn't look old enough to be here. "A steed is a steed, right?"

Alphonse grumbles something under his breath, and Thaddeus scoffs as his horse trots away. Alphonse seems reluctant to follow his lead, but he does it anyway. He seems like the kind of guy that's suspicious of everyone and everything, and Lucius, who tried talking to him at breakfast, said that he's done nothing but complain since his arrival. I suppose blatant pessimism is a default setting for some people.

"...Thanks," I mumble. The boy gives me a warm smile. Lancelot gives Buttercup a scratch behind the ears.

"Oh, you don't have to thank me," the boy replies nonchalantly. "Because it's true! Freckles here isn't exactly a racehorse either, but I love her anyway."