The Dragon's Champion by Sam Ferguson, Bob Kehl

such a young age, but to them I would
say, show me a sixteen year old who better exemplifies the qualities of a
Lokton noble.”
    The crowd
cheered and applauded. Many shouted accolades to Erik and others invoked the
blessings of the Gods on House Lokton. Lord Lokton surveyed the festive crowd,
but his smile diminished as three individuals pushed through.
    “Lord Lokton, I
cannot allow this,” the tallest individual said. The crowd ceased cheering, but
a few whispered and murmured among themselves. “This orphan-child of yours has
dishonored my family. Look at Timon’s hand,” Lord Cedreau pushed Timon forward
and the boy lifted his broken hand, wrapped in a cast. “The law demands that
restitution be made. So, to repay my son, your cast-away shall not receive his
hunting sword today.”
    Erik turned and
saw Lord Cedreau for the first time. He was taller than Timon, but had the same
dark, wavy hair accented by gray eyes that were narrow-set. The noble’s nose
was prominent, with a slight upturn at the end. Though the man had grown to be
rounder in shape than his sons, it was obvious to Erik that he still possessed
great physical strength. His arms and legs were large, and his shoulders broad.
The blue and gold tunic was secured in place by a large sword-belt, from which
hung a silver-handled long sword. Lord Cedreau then caught Erik’s gaze with his
own steely stare. At first, Erik wanted to look away, but he did not. He met
Lord Cedreau’s stare and narrowed his eyes on the man.
    “You twist the
law, Lord Cedreau,” Lord Lokton countered. “The law does not demand restitution, it allows it. Furthermore, today’s festival is a rite of
passage. In this ceremony Erik becomes a man. The payment you ask for is not
equal with the offense against your son that you claim.”
    “It is fair
payment,” Lord Cedreau countered.
    “No,” Lord
Lokton replied. “My son broke Timon’s hand. Erik would’ve had to break
something else to justify denying this ceremony.”
    Chuckles rippled
through the crowd.
    “How dare you?”
Lord Cedreau roared. “My son is noble-born, yours is a cast-away, an orphan! He
is not worthy of the ceremony you are throwing for him now.”
    “How dare I?”
Lord Lokton echoed. “No, sir, how dare you ? How dare you crash Erik’s
Konn Deta! How dare you call my son a cast-away, and how dare you demand more
than a fair restitution before my entire household and all of these witnesses.
Your offense today is far worse than any offense Erik gave. You have insulted
my son, me, all of my house, and the law that you profess to uphold.”
    “Watch your
words, Trenton Lokton, or we may be forced to end this feud by blood,” Lord
Cedreau growled.
    “Is that a
challenge?” Lord Lokton hissed. “I don’t recall you ever coming close to
beating me in a duel at Kuldiga Academy, so perhaps you should choose your
words carefully.”
    “I will summon
the magistrate, and he will settle this,” Lord Cedreau promised. “I wouldn’t be
surprised if he granted me a portion of your holdings for denying restitution
to my family.”
    Another man
pushed through the crowd, followed by a large man with a hood drawn over his
head. The first man had gray hair and a full, gray beard. His skin was tanned
and leathery. He wore a simple, blue tunic with green trim and black trousers.
Over his shoulders he wore a long, flowing black cloak, clasped across the
front with a brooch in the shape of a golden eye. Erik knew at once who the man
was.
    “I am already
here, Lord Cedreau,” the magistrate announced.
    Lord Cedreau
stiffened and clenched his fists. “I see your wit is still sharp, Lord Lokton,”
Lord Cedreau said under his breath.
    “Sharp enough
for the likes of you,” Lord Lokton replied sourly.
    “As of right now
I see no cause for this intrusion, Lord Cedreau,” the magistrate said. “As you
know, Kuldiga Academy reports all incidents of injury directly to me.”
    “I did not think
you would hear of