Chapter 53 – As Full of Valor as of Kindness

Obelaine’s desperate cry had caused Frambert to hesitate. The tip of his sword trembled as it rested against Benderast’s throat.

“Obelaine, no,” Frambert croaked. “That… that’s not true. Gwilet warned me that you’d say that. You’ve convinced yourself that this guy saved you, that… that you love him, that… so you can bear the fact that he… what he did to you…”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, I don’t know if I’ve ever encountered a more despicable worm than Gwilet.

Gwilet hadn’t just spun a web of lies, no, he’d even tried to preemptively immunize Frambert against the truth, in case he somehow found out.

With tears in her eyes, Obelaine shook her head as she walked toward Frambert, took his armored hand, and clasped it in hers. Frambert was still staring intently at Benderast, the sword pointed at his throat.

“Please look at me, Frambert.”

Slowly, Frambert turned his head toward her, and the sight of her softened the hatred on his face.

“Gwilet lied to you, Frambert.” Obelaine didn’t speak loudly, but in the dead silence, her words carried all the way up to the stands anyway. “He knew he could lie to you without consequence because you wouldn’t talk to anyone about it, because that would dishonor me. He took advantage of that. He counted on the goodness of your heart, so he could use you.”

“No.” Frambert shook his head in horror. “That can’t-“

But Obelaine wouldn’t let it go. “It was the goblins who did this to me, who captured me and kept me in their breeding kennels for weeks, along with other women. Human women, but also Shaeravyn and Sylvyn. They hurt me. Not he.” She pointed a trembling finger at Benderast. “Yes, I was in hell, but Benderast and his friends freed me from it.”

“But then…” Frambert looked down at Benderast again. The realization didn’t seep slowly into his mind, no, instead, it seemed to hit him with the force of a hammer blow.

He quickly pulled the tip of his sword away from Benderast’s throat and then flung his sword aside in such terror and revulsion as if he’d just discovered a really fat, hairy spider on it.

Then he looked at Obelaine, and once again it seemed as if he’d been struck squarely between the eyes with the sledgehammer of realization. With a choked sound, he fell to his knees before Obelaine and clasped her delicate hands in his armored ones in turn now.

“I forced you to… I didn’t mean to… I dishonored you. I am a fool.” He looked as if he were about to burst into tears at any moment.

Shaelith took the opportunity to hobble over to Benderast.

The crowd began to stir once more and sighs and indignant murmurs could be heard. Gwilet’s name was in everyone’s mouth.

Prince Gwilet himself, of course, still lay unconscious where Grimbart’s Chronosteel arm had roughly sent him crashing to the ground, and he had no opportunity to react or put any spin on the story. The verdict of thousands of spectators was against him, and there was nothing he could do about it.

King Gelsevier, in his royal box, had stood up and was clinging to the railing, suddenly looking terribly old. He was trembling. King Gerade and Grand Master Rambaud had also stood up and stepped over to him, trying to calm him down.

Quite the PR disaster, I guess.

Shaelith, however, wasn’t wasting too many thoughts on that right now, because Benderast really didn’t look good. The entire tournament field was littered with dazed and groaning knights who were now being tended to by their squires, but none of them looked as bad as Benderast.

She knelt down beside him, activating a healing glyph as she did so, and the mycelium slowly began its work.

He looked at her through swollen eyes and breathed raggedly. “Shaelith…”

“Shhh. Don’t speak, Sir Fisto.”

A gurgling sound of laughter escaped Benderast, and a piece of tooth fell out of his mouth.

When she looked over at Grimbart, she saw that Thaelon was already tending to him and that Mirrsoss was on her way to him in full flight as well.

“I HAVE RENDERED MY VERDICT.”

Honor’s voice was so loud that the excited whispering fell silent immediately, and everyone looked up at the banner, which had majestically unfurled to full size on the pole.

“I will not return to Gwilet. Never.”

Big surprise.

King Gelsevier let out a choked sound. All color had drained from his face, and he looked as if he were on the verge of a heart attack. King Gerarde and Grand Master Rambaud had to hold him up because he was threatening to collapse.

Honor fixed his gaze on Benderast, who, dazed, looked up at the banner through his swollen eyes as if it were an apparition. “Benderast Stonefist has given me not the slightest reason to abandon him. He is a good man, a valiant warrior, a humble servant and protector of the weak, and a worthy bearer. He is as full of valor as he is of kindness. Even in the face of death, he was not willing to lie even to save his own skin.”

I’m not entirely sure that’s actually smart, but then again, none of those banners is called “Common Sense” either. 

“But still…,” Honor continued, fluttering gently in the wind. “I once heard a wise man explain the difference between honor and reputation. Reputation, he said, is what others think they know about you. Honor, however, he said, is what you know about yourself. A good person guards their honor and lets their reputation fall where it will.”

As he spoke, Honor turned away from Benderast and looked directly at Obelaine.

“Obelaine, the Princess of Tulvia, sacrificed her reputation to save the life of a good man. She chose disgrace over dishonor. It was the most heroic act I have ever seen a member of House Grevue perform.”

Obelaine, who was still holding the hands of the kneeling Frambert, blushed and cast her eyes to the ground.

“Yes, Benderast is a worthy bearer.” For a heartbeat, Honor went limp on his pole. “And yet, I love the House of Grevue, which is my house and always has been, and which still bears honorable blossoms… even if they are daughters instead of sons. I can’t decide. It’s tearing me apart.”

Fervor and Mercy and not just the other two founding banners, no, all the banners now unfurled to their full size with a loud rustling of silk, respectfully, reverentially even.

What is happening?

Honor let go of his pole and was carried by the wind. He hung high in the air, rising even higher until the founding banner seemed to dance in the wind above the field, spreading out in the sunlight, and the golden griffin looked down on them all benevolently, yet also with a strange sadness.

And then, with an agonizingly slow, unpleasant sound that was half like tearing and half like a scream, the banner tore in two.

The far larger part of the banner, on which the griffin, the blue, red, and gold colors, and the name were visible, slowly sank to the ground and draped itself around Obelaine’s shoulders like a lovingly embracing cloak.

The smaller part, however, really nothing more than a fragmentary scrap, tumbled in the wind and fell onto the chest of the bleeding Benderast.

And although it was a small piece that had just been torn off by Honor, Shaelith saw that it was now navy blue, with a tiny silver fist on it. And sewn into the hem were the words: “As Full of Valor as of Kindness.”

~

The herald Tancred was the first to find his voice again, even though he clearly still had no idea what to say.

“That’s… unprecedented.” He sounded completely out of breath. “We don’t have a protocol for this!”

King Gelsevier, meanwhile, had been led back to his high-back chair by King Gerarde and Grand Master Rambaud, where he slumped down. Both spoke softly to him, and the heralds of the College of Heralds were arguing heatedly among themselves, repeatedly pointing  at Obelaine with Honor and Benderast with Valor and gesturing wildly. 

It was the banners that settled the matter.

“BEHOLD THE VERDICT!” Mercy raised her voice thunderously. “Behold the verdict pronounced by our brother, the founding banner ‘Mine Honor Is My Life, Both Grow In One’!”

Fervor joined in. “OBELAINE OF HOUSE GREVUE, PRINCESS OF TULVIA! HEIR TO THE REALM!”

And then all the banners joined in and boomed in unison. “HAIL THEE, PRINCESS OBELAINE, HEIR OF TULVIA!”

The banners chanted this over and over until the entire crowd of spectators joined in, and all the knights on the tournament field who could pull themselves up went on one knee before Obelaine and held out their swords to her. Obelaine had no idea what was happening to her, and King Gelsevier was completely bewildered as well. 

Benderast tried to sit up to see what all the commotion around him was about and what that shred of cloth on his chest was, but he immediately let out a pained groan.

Shaelith pushed him back firmly. “Take it easy, you idiot.”

He coughed violently, and a thick, slimy clot of blood shot out of his shattered nose, forcing the small little banner on his chest to dodge out of the way before examining the blood with curiosity.

“Hey… Shaelith?” Benderast rasped.

“Yes?”

“My memory is a bit hazy.”

“I can’t blame you for that, you look like you slept between two running millstones last night.”

“Did I… win?”

Shaelith looked around, taking in the chaos around them.

“You know what… I have no fucking idea.”