Lyn repressed a scoff as she listened to the prince’s welcome. She wondered how many of her fellow young knights were observant enough to see how duplicitous royalty could be. She knew some of them from the Leincrad Knights’ Academy, but many others were from neighboring kingdoms or smaller fiefdoms. None of them could have been over the age of 25, and she knew there would be some skilled fighters among them, but Lyn’s sword had seen more action than many of these young men ever had. 

From his high platform, Prince Aidan was looking down at them in both the literal and figurative sense of the phrase. Lyn squared her shoulders. Prince Aidan probably didn’t know the name of a single young knight who had trained in the Academy next to the palace and also in the palace’s own courtyards for years while he grew up with his feathered pillows, plush carpeted halls, and servants attending to his every whim. She doubted he even knew that there were girls training to be knights at the Academy. It didn’t matter that he would someday be king and that he wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to associate herself with. None of that mattered, because Lyn was here to win the tourney and collect the winnings; then she would finally be off on her own, never to see Leincrad again.

Even though Lyn had been promoted from squirehood to knighthood several years ago, the maesters of the Leincrad Knights’ Academy had insisted she win a royal tourney before being allowed to travel under her own shield. It was a ridiculous requirement that they had created and imposed only upon her, even though she had been the best squire of her year. She knew they’d added the rule for her and her alone because she was a girl, and it was completely unfair that the rest of her peers had been allowed to leave immediately, while she’d had to wait for every new tournament to be held. 

She’d competed in three Leincrad tournaments. Lyn lost her first one during the jousting round to a rookie mistake, and during the two after that, which were battle royale style, she’d been ganged up on by opponents who knew she was a girl and thought she didn’t belong on the battlefield.

This time, though, it was a classic, single combat advancement-style tourney. Lyn knew that she could rise to the top, and her maesters would all be in the stands to see her defeat the opposition.

After Prince Aidan announced the commencement of the tourney, Lyn and the other knights returned to their personal tents. Her first match would be against Sir Tyrragon of Clarendell. 

She smiled to herself, realizing that many of these opponents and spectators didn’t know she was a girl, and probably couldn’t tell right away because she’d cropped her hair so that it barely came below her ears, for ease of combat. Perhaps they would actually fight normally, instead of being scared to hurt her or using unscrupulous tactics to beat her because they were personally offended by the fact that she was female.

Lyn prepared her blunted tourney sword herself, not having cared to bring along a page for such duties. When she was on her own out there in the wild world, she wouldn’t have someone to strap on her armor or carry her shield. She’d taken care of herself through all these past years, and she could do so no matter where she went.

The trumpets sounded outside as another match ended, and Lyn put on her helmet, adjusting the visor to her liking before she stepped outside.
“Sir Lyn of the Western Isles in combat against Sir Tyrragon of Clarendell!” the crier announced with a blast of trumpets on either side of him. Lyn and Tyrragon entered the arena, clasped forearms, and spread apart, swords drawn and ready. 

“Commence combat!”

Lyn began by stepping slowly to the right, shifting her blade and analyzing her opponent’s response. He mirrored her, stepping to his left to stay directly across. Lyn smiled, knowing what she had to do.

She kept her eyes on his eyes, rather than his sword, and right before he stepped forward at her, his gaze shifted slightly. In that moment, Lyn darted forward and dodged his blow, delivering a hit of her own to his sword-wielding arm’s shoulder. After that, she knew she had the match won. Lyn made quick work of him and was declared the winner. As they moved her name up on the lists, she acknowledged the crowd, lifting her visor but not her helmet. One victory felt good, but it was not the time to get cocky. She still had to defeat everyone else she was matched up against; all the way through to the end.