Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 655: 306 Knight Tournament

Chapter 655: Chapter 306 Knight Tournament

The sunlight poured into the ancient and grand Great Arena, a colossal structure capable of accommodating tens of thousands, and at this moment, it was packed to the brim.

The stands surrounding the arena were tier upon tier, with people dressed in colorful attire, resembling a grand sea of flowers.

Amidst the stirring blare of horns and trumpets, the knights, clad in full heavy plate armor, mounted on warhorses, proudly entered the Great Arena to thundering cheers.

The knights’ helmets were adorned with more splendid ostrich feathers, peacock feathers, wolf tails, and even carvings than what would be seen on the battlefield. Both the riders and their steeds were equipped with armor and draped in bright and luxurious emblem cloaks.

In their hands, they held aloft banners depicting the emblems of their respective families—such as a soaring eagle, a roaring lion, a galloping wolf, and surging waves. These ancient symbols danced in the wind, vivid and radiant.

The spectators were already on fire without any provocation; the Grand Tournament in the Capital infused mundane daily life with exciting thrills, echoing cries reverberated above the arena, as if they could overturn the entire venue.

The King’s Announcer, dressed in a long robe, a feathered cap on his head, and holding a scepter, swallowed a throat-soothing drink, invigorated his spirit, and swiftly ascended the observation platform. Facing the purple curtain emitting magic light patterns, he cleared his throat and loudly proclaimed:

“Another bout of power and glory will unfold. Today, the kingdom’s most noble knights will compete in this arena, representing the dignity of their families, harboring a yearning for victory! They will showcase the bloodiest and fiercest duels!—….”

As soon as the words fell, the knights galloped along the edge of the Great Arena, proudly saluting the noble spectators and ladies, as well as the civilian audience, with one hand holding the flags.

The sound of hooves, cheers, and shouts intertwined, heralding the beginning of yet another contest.

Such lively scenes have continued for over ten days since the knightly tournament began. Yet whether civilian or noble, all still brim with boundless enthusiasm. Thanks to the grand event, the great theater in the Capital has seen no audience this month.

Even for the upper classes, lavishly dressed actors on stage do not match the delightful and thrilling sight of knights in real combat.

Leon lifted his face mask, topping his head with a wing helmet, riding the Black Steed as he waved to the countless spectators. His gaze effortlessly settled on Olivia, clutching a cluster of flowers.

Though many beautiful noble ladies surrounded the young girl, the woman leaning with a long sword against the seat was indeed singularly recognizable.

Leon, in a playful imitation of the knight flirting with some lady in front, bowed with affected mannerisms on horseback towards Olivia, saying, “For you, my fair lady, I bring yet another victory.”

Unfortunately, his voice was drowned in the tumultuous human sounds.

Olivia was amused by his bizarre expression, waving the flowers in her hand.

This area of spectators seemed to recognize the banner with a black background, gray wings, and a red sword. They cheered Leon’s name with special enthusiasm, whether as gamblers with stakes placed or simple enjoyment of the knights’ combat.

In his peripheral view, Leon even spotted several spectators wearing academic robes. Over the days, he noticed they hadn’t missed a single match. Leon would always see them shouting with flushed faces and strained necks. It seemed even scholars, buried in books, had an innate bloodthirsty impulse.

In the entire arena, only four Warlock Masters sitting at special seats in four directions monitored the magic aspects of the competition. They leaned on their staffs with expressions as dull as ever, and one even yawned.

Throughout their one or two hundred years of life, be it tournaments sponsored by kings or Great Lords, or held by local petty nobles, the magicians had witnessed countless matches. Their once fervent blood and interest had long turned cold.

Hearing the reminder horn sounding behind him, Leon smiled at his young wife and lowered the face mask before galloping back to the arena area.

The King’s Announcer waited for the day’s knights to arrive at their respective zones before continuing to shout through the witchcraft curtain:

“—From the North where mountain winds and sea winds howl!

The emblem is the snowstorm-ripping wolfman. His long spear has pierced countless Northnian pirates, and he has slain mountain giant trolls that devoured infants!

Bakan’s Iron Bone, Baron William Hades!”

A knight clad in a pale gray and blue cloak, equipped with additional standing shoulder armor, donned a frog-shaped heavy combat helmet. He wielded a wooden knight’s lance with a hammer-shaped blunt tip and rode to one end of a decorated horse stall.

As the announcer’s voice rose several notches, he shouted towards Leon’s direction:

“On this side, — from the Nightmare Forest shrouded in curses!

The emblem is the long sword with raised great wings. Look, the young hero who slew serpents, humbled the Dragon Slayer, and vanquished millions of undead, the southern hero!

The Avalon Lion, Baron Leon Pendragon, who has won twelve consecutive matches without falling!—

To whom will you throw the flowers? Is it ‘Iron Bone William’ or ‘Lion Leon’?”

The deafening sound waves nearly overwhelmed the previous ones.

Leon reached out to take the fist-headed wooden long spear brought by Kovis, urged his horse forward, accustomed to the announcer’s earth-like boxing ring host-like exaggerated bragging.