Surprisingly, with the arrival of a tournament one week, a familiar face did come. It was Sir Deavenwood, one of the king's knights! He was apparently searching for them. When their eyes met, their eyes lit and their hearts leaped for joy. The man motioned to not make a seen, and continued riding by in the post-battle parade of the knights and spectator nobles. Hope once again returned to the trio, and they couldn't help but smile.
During the tournament, Sir Deavanwood did quite well. He was a fairly young knight, but his large, tall frame added to his exceeding skill as a knight, made him a most formidable foe. The tournament lasted for two days, and near the end of the second, he was among the top rated combatants. The final test for the prize was decided by a match, every man for himself, of the as of then top knights. It wasn't a very long conflict. But, in the end, the last two knights still engaged in combat were Sir Deavanwood, and a Knight of Fraudsworth. That particular battle lasted longer than the entire rest had. Finally, Sir Deavanwood prevailed, the other knight on his knees, blade several feet away.
“And now, good knight, what shall you choose as prize, for you bravery and skill?” inquired the king's herald. The knight referred to replied,
“Eh, how about a few slaves? I could use a few more...” The herald looked a little perplexed, but said,
“V-very well; your choice. Bring forth our top three slaves!”
“No; I would pick my own, if you please.”
“Uh, very well, then. Belay that!”
So, the slaves of the castle were all herded into the square, for his inspection. Several of them were suggested to the knight, but he waived them all. After making the appearance of great indecision, he gradually and casually picked out Kentworth, Maniskeel, and Brently.
“And supply horses for them! I prefer to move on the swift, yes?”
The three horses were supplied, and the four started toward the outer gate. But when they had nearly reached it, their countenances plummeted. Before them, a wall of around twenty men-at-arms and pikemen formed in front of the portcullis. A knight stood at the front. One that looked very familiar.
“Vee know vy you are here, knight! I myself brought those three slevz here from your keeng's castle.” at that another familiar looking knight stepper from the crowd.
“You did not! I did! I dragged zem here, all za vey from zat dog of a keeng's castle!!”
“Oh deed you now? And how do you plan to proove zat?” And so a quarrel aroused, ensuing in a confused and divided group of men. This provided the opportunity for the four on horseback to slip by unnoticed. Almost unnoticed.
“Zere getteeng avay!!”
Within moments, several mounted soldiers were chasing after Kentworth and his small band. Their horses were small and compact, meant for speed. They were gaining ground quickly.
At the top of the hill before them, Kentworth's group met another, all hooded and armed, some of which quickly handed Kentworth, Maniskeel, and Brently swords. Oh, how wonderful it felt to hold a good blade once again! But the trio hadn't time to relish it. They were forced to wheel around to face their assailants, and spring forward to as to not be caught on the standstill. The two groups collided head-on. A few immediately flew to the ground. Some of the Fraudsworthians didn't really know why they were fighting. So they weren't giving their all, and thus they weren't terribly formidable opponents. Kentworth and his comrades put up an immense fight. Some of their assailants fled sheepishly back to the castle in terror. The rest including the two knights, continued determinedly, but indeed with a slight look of fear in their eyes. Kentworth was engaged in combat with one of the two knights. When given the opportunity, he swung his blade at the man, who in turn ducked away and brandished his own weapon hard upon Kentworth's unprotected right shoulder. He winced and clutched his upper arm, but shifted his blade to his left hand, with which he used it nearly as skillfully, much to the surprise of his opponent. A high swing, a low slice, and a gut-bound thrust were all parried by the younger knight, who distributed his own torrent of weaponry. Finally, the older knight of Fraudsworth, weakened by several cuts and slices, fell to the ground as a result of an inescapable downward blow upon his shield. Kentworth dismounted and held the man against the road with his blade; he surrendered honorably.
Looking around, Kentworth saw that his side of the battle wasn't prevailing. Remounting his steed, he wheeled around to Brently's aid. The unsuspecting man-at-arms on one side toppled off his mount with a blow to the shoulder, and the palace guard on the other panicked with a knight on either side of him, and fled back to the castle. This left the other knight and three other men-at-arms to deal with, which proved relatively easy, with the odds lopsided to their advantage.
The end result of the whole affair was two surrendered knights, and four wounded men-at-arms on the ground. Sir Deavanwood ordered they be brought to their feet and taken to the castle gate. Once this was accomplished, he proclaimed, “People of Fraudsworth! Hear me! Here be two of your chief knights, wounded and bleeding. Take them now, off our hands, and henceforth leave our own people be! Hear me! Further acts of war on your part shall be fatal!!” He and his comrades wheeled about and cantered away, north, on towards home.