Lasers, Dragons, and Lies: The Tale of the Blue Knight

A hush of anticipation fell over the stadium as a dignified man in gleaming golden flexi-armor astride a magnificent metal steed charged full speed, electro-lance raised, at a knight similarly armed in purple charging from the opposite end of the jousting pit. The two men approached each other, nearer and nearer, the tension in the audience growing until it was almost palpable. The metallic thud of hooves on packed earth was the only sound as the knights lowered their lances, then, “Crash!”

The Purple Knight’s lance glanced harmlessly off the Gold Knight’s shield with a dramatic shower of sparks. The Gold Knight’s lance, easily avoiding the shield of his opponent, smashed directly into the Purple Knight’s chest, propelling him off his horse. The Purple Knight smashed into the ground in an undignified racket of screeching metal joints as the crowd went wild.

The Gold Knight continued riding to the end of the pit while the crowd roared their approval. The Purple Knight just lay prone on the ground, moaning and soaking in the agony of both defeat and his own pain.

“Full fall! Full fall!! Full fall!!! Match to the Gooooooold Knight! In 10 tics!” an announcer’s voice bellowed over the PA system, barely louder than the ecstatic crowd.

The Gold Knight rode over to the Purple Knight, who had by this time managed to prop his aching body up a bit off the ground. The Gold Knight bent down and offered his hand, which the Purple Knight readily accepted. The Purple Knight knew he had been bested by the best.

Bartz, the Blue Knight, sat on his robo-mount, paying far more attention to the crowd jamming the rafters of the TechnoLot National Jousting Stadium than to the match. The ultra-huge metal stands circling the main jousting pit were crammed to the rafters with flag-waving, wildly cheering, and crazed spectators. The fans waved flags of all colors: blue, green, yellow, purple, and some red ones, although many of the red flags had big Xs through them. Without a doubt, though, there were more gold flags in the crowd than all the other colors combined. That wasn’t any surprise to Bartz. He knew the people ate up Gold’s exploits.

The huge electronic scoreboards that dominated both ends of the jousting pit alternated between statistics, instant replays, and, of course, commercials, causing the fans to either cheer or boo wildly. The souvenir shops and concession stands dotting the sides of the pit were mobbed with fans. These people were eager to spend their hard-earned zinc on some souvenir soon to be lost or serve as a token for a short while and then be lost. Bartz found this all more interesting than the match itself.

Falca, Bartz’s trusty bird companion, flew over and landed on Bartz’s shoulder. Falca was a mite large for a parrot-falcon mix but otherwise quite average-looking: green feathers with a touch of red on the wingtips.

“Zooks, the Gold Knight is good!” Falca said. “To be in first place by over 50 points! He is without a doubt the greatest knight in all of Aqua.”

“How can you say that, Falca, my friend? We have so little knowledge of the other territories. We don’t even receive their shows on the Magic Box.”

“Speak for yourself. You wingless ones might not talk to each other, but we birds are more open.”

“Oh?”

“Yep, and word of the beak is that nobody is as good as Gold,” Falca said.

“And what do your friends say about me?” Bartz asked.

Falca hesitated. “Some of the naive ones think you have the potential to be nearly as good, but I tell them they’re zoony. Zooks, you haven’t beaten the guy at anything for as long as I can remember! Free fighting! Laser swordplay! Archery! You name it. Zeck, the last two jousts, including this one, he’s bested you in one pass.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Falca, my trusty companion.”

“I just call them like I see them, Bartz,” Falca said with a little shrug. “If you look up under-achiever, they show a picture of you.”

“Okay, I get your point,” Bartz said, suppressing a groan.

Falca gazed at the flashing digital scoreboard. “By the way, you’re up next against the Red Knight. If you can beat that louse by three points, you get second place,” she said.

“I still know how to read a scoreboard, you know!”

Falca put a wing over her heart, “Hey, just trying to be helpful. You haven’t been past third place for the last… let’s see…”

“Mount, activate,” Bartz said, ignoring, or at least attempting to ignore, Falca.

The e-horse sprang to simulated life with a gentle neigh. Bartz gave the reins a gentle tug to the left. The horse started a light gallop towards the pit entrance, causing Falca to stumble some, derailing her train of thought.

“Lately I’ve been, what’s the word I’m looking for…”

“Not very bright? Careless? Lazy?” Falca said, regaining her balance on Bartz’s shoulder.

“No, none of those are the words I’m looking for!” Bartz said with a snarl.

Falca couldn’t tell if that was a playful snarl or if Bartz was mad about something, or if it was some combination of the two.

“It’s Princess Opal. Isn’t it?” Falca said knowingly. “If you are ever going to come to terms with yourself, you will have to confront her.”

“That’s much easier said than done,” Bartz said as they trotted along toward the starting area. “I used to think we would at least end up friends. Now I get the impression she doesn’t even like me.”

“How can you say that?”

“Last formal dance, she called me an ignorant troll. I even got the impression that she wanted to take a swing at me…”

“I’m sure she’s just playing hard to get.”

“Well, she’s very good at it,” Bartz said as he maneuvered his mount into position on the field.

“You have to talk to her. Tell her your feelings. She’s a princess, not a mind reader?” Falca said.

“The problem is, I’m not sure what my feelings are,” Bartz said with a sigh. “We used to be so close. It was easier when we were young and had no responsibilities.”

“Yeah, life is easier when you are young and stupid,” Falca said. “But for now, it’s best to keep your head on the Joust so you can keep your head.”

Bartz smiled, “I remember how it was when my father was a knight. Back then, knights were more than showmen and entertainers. They went into the bad parts of the city to help the poor, protect royalty and the innocent, and fight crime. Or they’d go on quests out into the badlands! Even when I was a young knight we got to do things to help the people. We made TechnoLot a better place.”

“You’re living in the past and watching too much of the Magic Box,” Falca said, trying to sound angry but also concerned. “The joust is too big a zinc-maker to risk you knights doing actual, non-organized fighting. And, King Lary has outlawed the genetic research that created the mutants and crime is way down, at least according to his PR people. Besides, we have soldiers to do all that dirty stuff now.”

“I know,” Bartz said.

Falca patted him on a padded shoulder, “Besides, you knights do a lot of good stuff. Only last week you did two free benefit autograph scribblings, and you gave that great talk about staying in studies.”

“I used to think there would be more…”

Falca looked Bartz directly in the eyes, or at least as directly as she could with a beak. “Listen,” she said sternly. “The joust may be a game—but it’s a dangerous game.”

“Yeah, yeah, right,” Bartz shrugged.

He knew Falca was only trying to help, but there are times when the more people try to help, the less it works. This was one of them.