Stiel felt weak, he was shivering, and his shoulder ached. The Knight-in-Waiting was nauseous, but he couldn’t tell if it was from his ordeal in Spikerock Chasm, or because of the knight who stood on the other side of the Windy Bridge.
“Stiel,” greeted the knight.
He was clad in chainmail and a brown hauberk, casually leaning on his shield, bearing the mark of the bear. Stiel had heard of him, he was his senior by some ten years or so, and of the Stemmel family. A sturdy man, square-faced, calm, and a renowned warrior. His black horse were tethered to a tree a few steps from the bridge.
“I saw your mount, Stiel,” said the knight, “and I reckon it is most honorable for both of us if we settle this matter on foot.” The knight smiled.
Stiel nodded, slightly dumbfounded, and took a step out on the bridge. He was shaking slightly, swallowed hard, and tried to calm his breathing. This was it, his third Stand within reach.
“Knight-in-Waiting! I am Karsten of Stemmel, the Bearslayer Knight, and I challenge your Stand. Do you accept?”
“I accept your challenge, Sir Karsten,” answered Stiel in a firm voice. “Get ready!”
Karsten nodded, put on his helmet with a plume of white eagle feathers, and strapped on his shield.
They met in the middle of the bridge in an epic clash, Karsten’s sword clanging hard on Stiel’s blank shield, forcing the Knight-in-Waiting back a step by sheer ferocity. Stiel retreated another step, avoiding the second swipe from the knight, and then countered with a thrust. It didn’t bother the challenger much, though - he easily swiped it wide, and slammed his shield hard into Stiel, who had to stumble backwards to avoid the following sword slash.
Stiel crouched low and managed to halt Karsten’s advance with an upward slash of his sword, almost nicking the challenger’s sword arm. His balance regained, the two warriors cautiously dealt and parried blows, trying to get a feel for one another. Normally, this wouldn’t bother Stiel much, in fact, he’d won several battles at the academy by tiring his opponent, but his left arm was numb, his parries more and more sluggish, and he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to meet the powerful strokes of Karsten’s sword with the shield. It was getting very heavy.
Something had to be done.
The Knight-in-Waiting retreated a step, and managed to wriggle out of the shield strap while doing so. Karsten cautiously followed, first with a careful thrust, but then, as Stiel took another step backwards, he went into a series of chops and slashes. Stiel backed out of the way as much as he could, and met the rest of the attacks with his blade, almost letting one through, and another nicked his shoulder but was taken care of by his own chainmail. The rings dug into his skin, no doubt bruising him.
Karsten took a step back. “Tiring already, Knight-in-Waiting?” he asked. “I am disappointed. I had expected better of you.”
The breather was what Stiel needed. With a roar, he threw the shield at the challenger, who scrambled to get his own shield up to glance it out of his face, off the bridge. Stiel didn’t wait for it to clash into the ravine floor, he stormed his challenger, hacking away with a two-handed grip, forcing Karsten to parry awkwardly with his sword.
The challenger stumbled backwards, got his shield up, but battle frenzy had reached the green-haired warrior now. The sheer power of his downward chops made dents, then cracks, in the shield, finally almost breaking through.
Karsten thrust his sword out in panic, trying to get some room for better footing so that he could meet the furious attacks from the Knight-in-Waiting. He knew he had the upper hand, still armed with both shield and sword, but he also knew that Stiel didn’t want him to be able to make use of the situation.
The thrust cut open Stiel’s right thigh, slashed his side and drew blood, forcing the Knight-in-Waiting to take half a step backwards to avoid further damage.
Karsten wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip. He stormed up, shield in position, getting ready to finish this fight once and for all.
He met Stiel’s foot dead on in the shield, with such a power that he fell to his back, barely getting his shield up to meet another furious chop from the Knight-in-Waiting. The power of the stroke, the heavy impact, slammed the shield’s edge hard into his forehead, opening a gash. He’d have that scar until his dying days, he thought, but he wasn’t sure if that would be an issue, they might not be far off.
“Yield!” bellowed Stiel, and stepped on the challenger’s sword arm, forcing him to drop the sword.
“No!” roared Karsten, and tried to push Stiel to the side with his shield.
The Knight-in-Waiting anticipated this, and casually gripped the shield and tore it out wide, pointing his sword tip to the challenger’s throat.
“Yield,” said the green-haired warrior.
For a moment everything was still.
“I yield,” said Karsten of Stemmel in a weak voice. “I yield, Sir Knight.”
* * *
Stiel looked back at the Windy Bridge from the horseback. He sat straight and proud, his shield freshly painted green, hung by the saddle nob. Further ahead rode Karsten and Falt, who’d decided to leave Qaiel behind and join the two knights for now. “You’ll need someone to look after you, Sir Stiel, or at least your horse if you think you can manage yourself,” he’d said to Stiel, and wouldn’t discuss the matter any further. Stiel didn’t mind, Falt had proven to be a good friend during his Ceremonial Stand.
The Windy Bridge looked almost forlorn in the afternoon sun. Stiel didn’t think he’d see it again.
But he had held it, he had done it. Stiel of the Uthrom highlands had completed his Ceremonial Stand. The green-haired warrior had become the Green Knight.