Disclaimer: I don't own Sims medieval.

Champions

Trenton's POV

I stalked away from the barracks, my cheeks stained red with embarrassment. I couldn't quite believe that I'd reacted like that. So what my new squire was gorgeous, I should not have gotten so distracted. Distractions will get you killed, my father had always said, and I agreed with him.

Before I'd returned to Graza, in my years of travel, I'd been mercenary. Selling my sword to the highest bidder, fighting for anybody with good motives and who offered coin. I had spent years fighting, six years in all, meaning I was almost perfect for my post.

I pushed my embarrassed thoughts away as I entered the castle. The entrance lead straight the throne room, a fact which always made me nervous. I was a soldier through and through and I hated the fact that something I had sworn to protect was so strategically unsound. The original designers of the building had concentrated too much an aesthetics than on keeping their monarch safe from death for my liking.

I had to admit though, the throne room was a thing of frigging beauty.

Three pillars held the floors above suspended, on either side of the room. A long, red carpet led toward a huge, marble throne and sat on it was the Queen. Amelie the first was tall, with long black hair that was currently curled around her ears in two buns. Her golden crown was settled on her head and despite its weight, she sat up straight, not a single vertebrae curling. She smiled regally at me as I advanced.

I sank to one knee, a sign of respect and asked about my summons, "You sent for me, Your Majesty?" I looked up at her from my vantage point. Her eyes were a darker brown than mine, with hazel flecks surrounding her pupils. The shape of them had been extenuated with eye charcoal, making them longer and sharper. Aside from that, her skin was devoid of make-up, preferring to show her natural mixed-race colour.

"Yes, Lord Trenton." She stood her back still straight. "We will discuss in private." She announced and led me up to her rooms.

When I closed the door the immaculate posture dropped. "Thank The Watcher you finally got here Trenton. My back was killing me." She massaged it gently and tossed her crown towards the pillow it rested on while she slept.

Her rooms didn't hold much furniture. A king-sized bed, which currently held a sleeping Lyon, table and chairs and a few multi-coloured rugs. The only thing the room had an excess of was art. The walls were covered in paintings and tapestries, all very famous. One of Amelie's ancestors were very passionate about art and had been a collector as had her own father.

"So, what's happening?" I asked. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Oh no. I was just wondering how your preparations are going?" She slumped into a chair with a sigh.

I felt a feeling of foreboding descend. "Preparations for what?"

She looked over. "You know, the tournament."

"What tournament? There's a tournament?" My mouth flopped open in surprise, and we stared at each other in horror.

"The War Games! You're our champion, Graza's representative! How can you not know! I've been planning this for weeks!" She yelled hysterically. There was a weak moan from the now awake and hung-over Lyon. I didn't really care about him though, Amelie had my full attention as she'd started to panic. I grabbed her arms.

"Don't worry, Amelie." I soothed. "Everything will be fine."

"It's in four days' time!"

"And I've fought wars with less notice!" She pulled in a deep breath and began to calm down. I waited until the wild look had left her eyes before letting her go and sat down in her other chair. "There will be a representative from each country, yes?"

She nodded "Six taking part including you." She looked towards the bed in worry as Lyon groaned again. "Can you do me a favour, Trenton? Next time you go out drinking with my husband can you try not to get him so… inebriated?"

I stared at the bed in amusement. "He did that to himself. I had nothing to do with it."

"Amelie," Lyon whined "I think I'm dying."

"I'll get the rest of the details from Silas and leave you two in peace." I stood up and walked back toward the door. "Hope you feel better Lyon."

"I hate you." He growled from deep under the blankets. I started to laugh.

Silas, the Royal Advisor to the Queen, was sat at a scribes table when I finally found him. He was tall and graceful, with long ebony hair pulled back from his face with a silver clip.

"Ah, Trenton, what can I do for you?" He asked looking up momentarily with a harried smile and looking back at the document he was writing.

"Well…" I ran my hands through my hair, feeling a tad sheepish about the whole affair, "I just found out about this tournament thing-"

"You mean you didn't know?" Silas interrupted, looking back to me with an incredulous look.

I gave a shrug. "I have no clue how it happened either but now I do I need to know what's happening."

He leant back in his chair, laid his hands over his stomach and thought for a minute. "Well, the tournament will last for three days. There will be two fights on the first day, followed by a celebratory banquet that night. The next day two of the three victors, chosen at random, will fight each other. On the last day the two remaining victors battle for the winner's laurels."

Simple enough, I thought.

"As the host country's champion, you will be expected to welcome each competitor. Oh and Amelie has commissioned a new set of armour and a sword for you. The blacksmith should be done with it by tomorrow. I'll send you a note when it's ready." He scratched his face absently. "I can't think of anything else you'll need to know, really. Oh wait!" He quickly scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to me. "This is a list of all the competitors."

I saw my name at the top of the list and quickly read each name after. I could see that we were the only country who had put the head of the guard forward as the Champion, as I didn't recognise most of the names on the list. Apart from one. The second name from the bottom proclaimed the Champion of Crafthole as none other than Sir Geoffrey Middleton, otherwise known as Geoffrey the inebriated

It took me a few minutes of staring to finally except what my eyes were seeing. I suddenly found myself laughing. Sir Geoffrey Middleton? It couldn't be the same Sir Geoffrey, could it?

Silas raised an eyebrow and asked "Is something amiss?"

"I'm pretty sure I know Sir Geoffrey, though the idea of him becoming a knight…" I trailed off as I continued to laugh. "He is the very epitome of the word drunkard. In the two years I fought with him, I don't think I ever saw him sober for more than an hour or two."

I hadn't seen Geoffrey since I was twenty-two, when we had worked on a few mercenary jobs together. We had lost touch after he'd accepted a job that would have taken me too close to Graza and we'd had to part ways. I'd missed him terribly. God, I hoped it was him.

"Well, thanks for your help Silas," we shook hands "It's appreciated. Now I better get on. I'm going to have a busy week."

Eli's POV

It was raining. I could feel rivulets of water running down my face and soaking my thin clothing right the way through, making it cling to my back and chest as I ran back home. Mother would be so angry when she saw how wet I had gotten, I thought, as I passed other houses in the village. I could almost already hear her chastising me and it made me run faster both to try and ease her wrath and also to experience it faster.

She had been dancing around me for so long I'd almost missed her anger. Or maybe I'd just missed being treated as a normal child, I mused, as I slipped in the mud on the garden path and reached our home.

"Mother!" I called as I pushed the door closed behind me, just in time to miss the first flash of the lightning. It rumbled ominously as I looked around the small kitchen of our home, and saw our dinner for the evening cooking in the fireplace unattended. That was my first clue that something was wrong.

"Mother?" I called again. Then called "Father?" No answer from either parent. As I crossed over to my parent's room, the thunder boomed again causing me to jump. I reached for the handle then paused. I could hear the now familiar sobbing of my father from inside the room. What could cause my father to cry?

I slowly turned the handle and…

Was awoken by somebody knocking on my door. I stared in confusion, my sleep addled mind still partially in my old home, about to open the door and be confronted with the scene inside. Another knock finally pulled me from my memories, followed by a child yelling "Mister Eli?"

I dragged myself to my feet, yawned, and pulled open the door.

A small girl, with short, tangled black hair, a grin with a missing front tooth and a very dirty face smiled at me. "You Trenton's new squire?" She asked.

"Yes." I looked at her dress, which was also dirty and her shoes that I was pretty sure were broken and after she didn't speak prompted "Does he want something from me?"

"Want's ya to meet him at the trainin' grounds." She looked me up and down curiously and asked, "You're not from round 'ere, are ya?"

I shook my head no, as I belted my sword back to my side.

"I can show ya where it is if ya like? For a price, of course." She looked into the room and craned her head around, curiously.

"Of course." I agreed. "Will this suffice?" I asked and tipped a handful of coins into her palm. Her face lit up into a wide grin and she said "Thanks, Mister! I've never had this many gold coins before."

I returned her grin, slightly amused by her childish enthusiasm while I stepped out into the hallway and held the heavy door open for her, now much easier to handle without all my bags. "What's your name?"

"People call me 'elena the urchin." She replied as she ducked under my arm and walked down the stairs.

"Don't you have any parents?" I asked as we passed through the area in front of Trenton's rooms.

She glowered at the floor and muttered. "Ain't got none. Both died years ago."

I'd thought so. I nodded and said "I know a little of what it's like."

"Your parents are dead 'swell?" She looked at me curiously.

"Not exactly. My mother died when I was eleven and father went crazy not long after. I never saw him again so for all intents and purposes he may as well be dead."

"Trenton's an orphan 'swell ya know. An' the Queen. Guess that's why they keep me 'round." She gave a small smile as we walked down the hill and past a waterfall.

I filed that information away for further examination. "You take a lot of messages for people then?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah. It's alright work. I like it." Her smile widened a little, as we turned up a hill. "I get t' meet nice people 'nd the Queen always 'as a message for me if business is slow."

By now I could see the large training grounds and had already found Trenton standing with his sword drawn determinately hacking at a wooden training dummy. The encounter from this morning returned to my mind, as I watched him perform a graceful move that sent the dummy swinging backwards. Considering himself victorious, he slid his sword back into its scabbard and turned towards. Then he waved and Helena waved back.

"I'll see you around, Helena." I told her as Trenton started fiddling with something in his pack

"Good luck!" She called as she started to walk away.

I took a deep breath and walked towards my boss.

Author note

Well, this took longer than expected to write. I hope Helena is suitably urchiny enough for you. Don't worry she'll be back. I have plans.

Thanks for the reviews. They give me a warm glow inside.