The Measured Victory

King Tuscan sat on a throne decorated with gold. A longsword hung at the right side of the throne, its polished steel gleaming in a ray of sunlight.

"I am hungry. Servants, bring me my favorite platter," Tuscan ordered with a clap.

A small group of servants stood near the right wall of the throne room. They glanced at one another and pretended to appear busy by adjusting their uniforms and inspecting the floor for dust.

One of the servants, John, sighed and stepped forward reluctantly. "Of course, Your Highness. I will prepare and bring it for you," John said. Then, more quietly he muttered, "Once again, this is my battle to fight."

As John exited the throne room, Tuscan looked around in confusion. "Battle? What battle is he talking about, and why was I never informed of this?" Tuscan wondered as he looked to the courtiers and guards.

"Your Highness," an advisor standing near the left of the throne explained, "I believe the servant was only speaking of the task—not an actual battle."

"I see," Tuscan nodded and leaned back against the throne.

A while later, John returned, carrying a tray. He set it down on a table at the right of the throne.

"At last," Tuscan said, turning toward the tray.

"I have prepared a meal consisting of roasted duck, meat pie, wheaten loaf, grapes, and honey water, just as you—"

"You are telling me all this, yet I see nothing on this tray," Tuscan interrupted, regarding the empty tray.

John's face turned red. "Sorry, Your Highness, I forgot to tell you that a child was playing in the kitchen, and I believe they ate all your food."

Tuscan looked doubtful. "What? My food? Bring me this child."

"Yes, Your Highness," John said and quickly departed, his footsteps pounding down the hall.

A short while later, John burst through the doors, followed by a woman. "Your Highness, I have brought the child," John said panting.

The woman had a youthful face, which made her seem younger than expected. However, what contrasted with her youthful appearance was her royal gown. She smiled at Tuscan, who looked at her in bafflement.

"This..." Tuscan said quietly, looking at the woman. "She is not a child."

John stared open-mouthed at the woman. "But-but what? What is going on? Do you know her, Your Highness?"

"Yes. She is Queen Caroline, my wife," Tuscan said, sighing.

John stood still, confusion slowly turning into shock. Then, laughter burst from his open mouth. His body shook as John furiously pinched his arm, trying to stop. Tears began streaming down his face. He quickly turned and left, laughing hysterically as the sound echoed down the hall.

The throne room was eerily quiet. Then, Tuscan broke the silence. "Was this all an excuse to avoid laundry duty?"

A messenger entered the throne room. "The arena has been prepared for your spar, Your Highness."

"Let's get going," Tuscan said as he descended from the throne.

Caroline was beside him, followed by the courtiers and guards as they walked into the hall. The sound of footsteps filled the hall as the group made their way to the end of the hall, where they arrived before a pair of tall double doors.

Tuscan walked out into the courtyard. At the center was an arena that was surrounded by a waist-high stone wall with two open entrances on opposite sides. A crowd was forming as people streamed in, filling up the stands which were about ten feet from the wall and formed a semicircle around half the arena.

A knight in full plate armor stood at the opposite end of the arena, holding a sword.

"Are you ready, Arthur?" Tuscan called to the knight.

Arthur straightened up tall. "Ready, your highness. I can't believe someone like me will be sparring with the king himself, but I will not hold back," Arthur yelled.

"Good to hear, Arthur. I have heard of our army's many victories, especially of the great feats of our elite warriors. You Arthur, are the best of them, therefore, I want to personally gauge your skills in a spar between you and I."

Arthur bowed his head. "Your words are too kind, Your Highness."

Two of the attendants on the side ran up to Tuscan, holding equipment.

"Your armor, Sire," one of the attendants, young with a slim yet strong frame, said. She helped Tuscan strap on the leather armor.

"Thank you, Andrea," Tuscan said as he took a step toward the entrance.

"Wait, your highness, your helmet," Andrea said as she lowered the shiny gold helmet over Tuscan's head.

"Ah, yes, my helmet," Tuscan said, his voice echoing. "Andrea, could you—"

Clang. He was cut off by the visor closing. Andrea blushed as she quickly lifted the visor. "So sorry, your highness, I-I accidentally bumped it," she said quickly.

"Good because I thought I was boring you," Tuscan said seriously, then chuckled. "No need to apologize. What I was trying to ask was, could you check up on John for me? Tell him he is not off the hook of today's laundry duty."

Andrea chuckled. "Of course, I will do that now." She rushed toward the servant quarters.

Tuscan stepped into the arena. "Now, where is my sword?" Tuscan muttered.

The other attendant approached. "Sire, I believe your sword is in the throne room. I will go bring it for you."

Tuscan hesitated then nodded. "Yes. I do not want to delay this match, so until you return, I will try to find something else."

Tuscan scanned the arena, looking for a weapon. One of the guards, a tall man with a scar on his shoulder, walked over and presented him something.

"What is this, Quintus?" Tuscan asked in bewilderment as he stared at a three-foot long strip of wood.

"It is a yard stick, Your Highness," Quintus said. "It has two important roles. One of them is to measure objects, and the second is to use as a weapon, like a staff. You may have heard of how I defended against an invasion with this, which earned me the title: Yard Fighter."

"Right... and I assume it will serve me just as well against an elite knight?" Tuscan said, regarding the yard stick doubtfully. "This will have to do for now."

The crowd in the stands quieted as the match began. Tuscan noticed Caroline sitting near the front row, observing the arena. Arthur charged, his sword raised high. Raising the yard stick, Tuscan braced for the impact.

A sharp crack reverberated around the arena as steel met wood. Surprisingly, the yard stick didn't snap in half. Tuscan was strong, but Arthur's strength proved stronger as Tuscan's staggered back two steps.

"As expected," Tuscan grinned as he moved forward, bending his knees and extending the yard stick toward Arthur's chest.

"You know how to use a yard stick quite well, your highness," Arthur said jovially, moving into a ready stance.

Tuscan lunged toward Arthur, thrusting the yard stick forward. Arthur, sensing this, stepped backward. Tuscan moved forward while Arthur moved back along the arena's edge. Tuscan swept the yard stick low, fast, and controlled, but Arthur smoothly swung his sword down to block the yard stick from sweeping his legs.

The audience looked on at the edge of their seats, holding their breath. The two fighters continued like this for a while, Tuscan striking and Arthur parrying, as they moved around the arena. Tuscan realized they had just completed a circle along the arena wall.

He stopped and lowered to a crouch. Arthur waited, holding his sword in front of his stomach.

Tuscan smiled. "I have you right where I want you." He lashed out quickly at Arthur's knees.

There was a flash of steel as Arthur moved his sword down in front of his knees, knowing that Tuscan's attacks had always targeted his knees. This was why Arthur was momentarily frozen in place when he didn't feel the expected strike connect with his blade.

It was a feint. In a blur of motion, Tuscan withdrew the yard stick and sprung high into the air. The audience gasped.

"Your Highness, catch!" a voice yelled as a shiny object came flying toward Tuscan.

Realizing it was his sword, Tuscan, in a fluid motion, grabbed the sword by the hilt, raised it over his head, then swung down toward Arthur with everything he had as he dropped. A loud bang shook the arena as the sword crashed against Arthur's helmet. The force of Tuscan's momentum was so strong that it sent Arthur flying backwards until he collapsed just outside of the arena's wall with a thud and a clatter of armor.

The audience erupted into cheers. It sounded like a rushing waterfall as all Tuscan could hear was white noise. He stood there for a moment, taking in the overwhelming energy that surrounded him. Tuscan raised his sword in the air, which caused the crowd to cheer even louder. Tuscan could feel the sound vibrating in his chest.

He walked over to Arthur and helped him to his feet. "You fought well, Arthur," Tuscan said.

Arthur removed his helmet. "Thank you, Your Highness. I thought I had a chance when you entered with a yard stick, but I was defeated," Arthur chuckled and sighed.

"You have potential, Arthur. Just continue refining your skills, and I am certain you will defeat me one day," Tuscan said encouragingly and walked out of the arena.

He glanced toward Caroline. She was on her feet, clapping and cheering. "That's my king!" she shouted, her voice somehow carrying over the roaring crowd.

Tuscan was stunned. Caroline was almost always softspoken and composed. That was why what he saw right now was unexpected yet heartwarming at the same time. He smiled and waved.

Tuscan had an idea. Bending down, he grabbed the yard stick, which had dropped when he had caught his sword, and raised it high above his head. "Thanks to this yard stick, I was able to win this fight. Thank you, Quintus," Tuscan spoke and handed the yard stick back to Quintus. "And thank you Caroline, my wife, for being my greatest supporter!" Tuscan shouted over the thundering applause of the audience.