The New World
Copyright© 2024 by Dark Apostle
Chapter 42: Tourney Part 2
Fan Fiction Sex Story: Chapter 42: Tourney Part 2 - The story follows James Smith, a man who dies and finds himself in a surreal afterlife courtroom, where his life is judged as "zero sum"—neither good nor evil, just utterly average. Dissatisfied with being consigned to eternal mediocrity, he manipulates the cosmic bureaucracy into granting him a second chance in a new world, where he is reincarnated as a child with his memories intact and perks... - edited by my lovely Steven.
Caution: This Fan Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Ma/ft Mult Coercion NonConsensual Reluctant Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fan Fiction Farming High Fantasy Rags To Riches Restart Alternate History DoOver Extra Sensory Perception Body Swap Furry Magic Incest Mother Sister Politics Royalty Violence
The next morning he took a long shower and then ate a fast breakfast. He wanted to check out the booth and then watch the tourney finals.
Threading his way through the other vendors’ booths, he was surprised by how much nicer theirs was. There were subtle modern features in the design that helped with storage and speed of order fulfillment. ‘The only thing missing is an iPad with the tip screen.’
He passed a long row of stalls where the morning air carried the mingled scents of fresh bread, roasted chestnuts, and oiled leather. A blacksmith’s stall displayed rows of newly forged spurs and buckles, the metal still warm from the forge. Next came a weaver’s booth hung with bolts of brightly dyed wool and linen, while a potter nearby arranged glazed mugs and plates on low tables. Farther along, a farrier’s assistant hammered horseshoes into shape beside a stack of spare tack. James laughed as a richly dressed squire stepped squarely into a fresh pile of horse dung, the man’s boots sinking with a wet squelch before he began swearing loudly enough to draw stares from passersby. The squire hopped on one foot, cursing the entire line of horses and the tourney grounds in general while trying to scrape the mess off on a patch of grass.
He was updating Jan when Lord Mallow came to the booth. Jan’s full breasts strained against her thin top, thick nipples visibly tenting the fabric and pointing south in a way that made James instantly rock hard. All the other women working had their tits out for the same reason, hard nipples on full display in the cool morning air. The sight drew men in like moths to flame; once they were close, the rich aroma of cooking food hit them, and the effect compounded. Hooters had the right idea—tits sell, and the combination kept the customers lingering.
“Good morning, Lord Mallow,” Jan said.
James offered a short bow, Mallow smiled and inclined his head in greetings, taking in the stool, surprised to not find Fel lurking around. Mind you, his hulking mass would be hard to miss.
“Good morning to you all. I have heard good things about all the booths, especially yours. And how are you, Master James?”
“Excellent, Lord Mallow. Thank you again for the commission.”
“The contestants have been greatly pleased with the time and cost savings. The judges will recommend this for other tourneys. And there have been many favorable comments about the food offerings. When the tourney is finished, you must teach Spiro to make these dishes.”
“Of course, it will be our honor,” James replied.
“What do you think of the tourney, James?”
“It is unfamiliar to me. I needed to have someone in the stands explain the rules to me so I could follow. It is an interesting mix of danger and spectacle, which the crowd loves.”
“The tourney is good for Castletown. Our reputation has grown, and the coins they leave are beneficial.”
“Agreed, and some of the coins have stayed with us,” James added.
“The good captain tells me that you have learned to be a battlemage. Is this correct?”
James decided to minimize his skills by downplaying his actual level of accomplishment.
If he boasted, then Mallow might assume that he was ready for anything. And he truly had much to learn. Besides, this world had taught him that boasting was foolish.
“Maybe. I have been shown many spells and practiced a few. But a battlemage? Not yet. I am a little more advanced than an apprentice, but nowhere near where I need to be.”
“Please keep training and keep me informed. Castletown will benefit from a battlemage in residence,” Mallow said.
“I will. But there are many things to discuss before I can be of service.”
“Plan on seeing me once the tourney is over and I will give you the time you need,” Mallow said.
After Mallow left, Christine asked, “What was that all about?”
“Kael told me I was selling myself too cheaply and letting a non-magic user plan a battle is a good way to be killed. He said I should have complete control and be paid my worth. If I don’t charge good money, then they will call me for every problem. Soon, the answer for a cat in a tree would be ‘Call James.’”
“That makes sense. I saw Mallow walking by other booths with at most a word. Here he stopped just to talk to you.”
“Yeah, he thinks of me as free magic.”
“You should talk to the other magic users in town. They will have suggestions.”
“Great point. But I will wait until I have put in more practice. I want to be able to talk to them as equals. I don’t need to master all of the spells Kael gave me, but I must have the ones I use regularly down pat.”
“How long will that take?” she asked.
“Realistically, a couple of months. But I should be confident enough to talk to the other mages in a couple of weeks. They are not battlemages, so there should be no fighting. I will try to start a Castletown mage guild.”
“That is a lot more than just talking to them. Do you have the time for the effort?”
“I will have to see. Ask me in a few weeks after the meeting. Now I am off to the tourney.”
Reaching the stands, he noted there were no open seats. He decided to stand at the side of the field, close to where the contestants entered. The air was thick with the smell of oiled leather, sweating horses, and the faint metallic tang of blood from earlier mishaps. Squires darted about like overworked servants, while heralds barked announcements that half the crowd ignored. James tried his best not to laugh his ass off at the sheer pageantry of men in tin cans risking their necks for a shiny disc and bragging rights.
After a few minutes, the first two entered, with one heading toward the other end of the list. The judge announced the two combatants, and then a squire dropped the flag. The riders charged each other and one fell, the victor then paraded in front of the judges and crowd. ‘I don’t have any appreciation for this. It’s boring.’
Suddenly, there was a shout, and a riderless stallion charged out from the holding area. James automatically reached out with his magic to tame the horse. The panicked animal swung around the field, looking for danger. The horse’s hesitancy allowed James to finish the taming, bonding the horse to him. As he walked to the panting animal, he softly called out in a calm and gentle voice. Once he reached the horse, he grabbed the bridle and started rubbing the horse’s snout and neck.
The sounds of footsteps reached him as two men came up to where he was calming the horse. “Is this yours?” James asked.
“Yes, he is my Baron’s prize stallion. A lance fell and startled him. I would be in terrible trouble if Stardust had been hurt.” The taller one spoke. “I am sorry, I have not introduced myself. I am Meklin, squire to Baron Manfred Cuntz.”
“Cuntz?” James asked, not believing his ears. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, fighting the urge to double over. Of all the noble names in the realm, this one took the prize for accidental comedy. In another life, he might have cracked a joke about the Baron’s unfortunate name and how it probably explained his aggressive jousting style. Here, though, he kept his face straight while dark humor bubbled up anyway: imagine the poor peasants who had to say “Baron Cuntz” with a straight face every day. One slip and they’d be swinging from the nearest tree.
“Yes, he is a powerful Baron who competes on the tourney circuit. May I ask your name?”
“I am James.”
“The Baron thanks you for your help.”
“Well, here is his horse,” James said, while breaking the taming spell and handing the reins to Meklin.
‘Baron Cuntz. Wait until the girls hear about this.’ Shrugging, he turned back to watch the next joust.
Finally, the final joust was announced: Baron Cuntz versus Sir Holger. They lined up on either side of the list and waited for the flag to drop. At the signal, the two men charged. Splintered lances were the result of the collision as both men stayed in the saddle. They rode to the end of the list, and their squires handed them new lances. The crowd roared with bloodthirsty delight, and James had to clench his jaw to keep from snorting. If the Baron’s name alone could cause this much chaos, he wondered what fresh disaster the rest of the day might deliver.
Once again, they prepared themselves for the flag to drop.
This time, they charged at each other with their lances’ tips held higher. At the last second, Holger leaned forward and hugged the neck of his horse, causing the baron’s lance to miss. Holger’s did not. The crowd roared as the baron was knocked off his horse.
The tourney had a winner.
James shook his head. ‘Isekai’s royalty has a unique way of using their resources.’ He stayed and watched Iona present the tourney award to Sir Holger. As he turned to go, he saw Meklin waiting for him.
“Baron Cuntz would like to thank you for saving Stardust. Please come with me,” Meklin said. James shrugged his shoulders. “Why not?” And followed Meklin.
Meklin led him to an ornate pavilion. The walls were a dark blue with white thread stitched into a delicate pattern. Each of the tent poles was gilded in bright gold. There were two pendants at the door showing the Baron’s crest. Meklin walked inside the pavilion to a table and introduced James to the Baron, who remained seated behind a wooden table covered with dense carvings of intricate patterns.
“I understand that you captured and calmed my horse,” the Baron said.
“Yes, it was obvious the horse was panicked, and I wanted to prevent injury to the horse or any of the people at the tourney,” James replied.
“I am grateful for your actions. But I am puzzled by how easily you were able to calm such a high-spirited horse. What is your occupation? Do you work with horses? You have the build for it, with such impressive muscles.”
“No, I am the owner of a tavern. In fact, the one who supplied the meal boxes for your entourage.”
“So how were you able to stop Stardust?”
“He ran right by me, and I was able to grab the reins. I talked softly to the horse and was able to settle him down.”
Cuntz suddenly stood, so forcefully that his chair tipped over and hit the floor. “Do not lie to me!” he thundered. “Stardust is too powerful to be controlled that way. Now, how did you do it?”
“I have a little magic and was able to use it to tame the horse as it ran by. The horse was calm by the time Meklin arrived.”
“Interesting. What other magic can you perform? I am always looking for skilled practitioners for my court.”
“Baron, I appreciate your offer, but I am happy in Castletown. I run a wonderful tavern, The Fenrir, and have deep roots here. I am glad I could help save Stardust, but that is the extent of my skills.”
“I will accept your decision, but if you change your mind, please contact me. Here is a reward for your effort.” He then handed James a bag with coins in it.
“Thank you, Baron. Safe travels,” James said, bowing his head before turning and leaving the pavilion.
Back at The Fenrir, James regaled the women with his meeting with Baron Cuntz. “Did you laugh when you heard his name?” Christine asked.
“No, but I did bite my cheek. I knew you all would appreciate his name. He offered me a job, but there is no way I could work for a Cuntz.” Then James burst out laughing, soon accompanied by the women.
The next afternoon, a guard arrived at the tavern with a request from Lord Mallow for a meeting at the castle.
When James arrived, he was immediately brought to Mallow. “Welcome, James.”
“You asked me to come, and my schedule was clear.”
“I had an interesting meeting with Baron Cuntz. He wanted to let me know that there was one of my subjects with a little magic. He did not consider you to be a threat since your magic was so limited.”
“I answered his questions. When he tried to have me join his court, I thanked him and left.”
“Oh ho! He did not mention that.”
“His demeanor was clear—he outranked you, and I should be honored to even be asked.”
Mallow snorted and nodded.
“That is the problem with nobility. There are some pompous jerks who don’t think their shit stinks. You would hate working for him. He would treat you like an object. He treats that horse of his better than anyone.”
“Lord Mallow, I recognized his behavior. Running a tavern, you meet all sorts of people. His type is not unknown to me.”
All through the exchange, one thing that surprised James was how relatively nice everyone seemed, even Cuntz. There was no looking down on peasants or casual contempt for those beneath their station. The Baron had spoken plainly, offered a genuine reward, and shown real concern for his horse. Mallow himself treated the conversation as equals rather than lord to subject. It was a far cry from the sneering arrogance James had expected from nobility. Even the squires and guards he passed in the castle halls nodded respectfully instead of sneering. It made the whole system feel less rigid and more human than he had braced himself for.
“All of our meetings have been for very specific reasons. I fear I may not have explained the structure of royalty in this realm. Let me summon the steward, and we can share a bottle of wine while we talk.”
Once they were settled, a glass of wine in their hands, Mallow started his explanation. “Isekai has several power centers. At various times, one may be dominant over the others. They are the crown, the mages, and the churches. The crown is embodied by the king. He is born into the position and remains a prince until his father, the king, dies. If there is more than one son, the council of nobles decides which son ascends to the throne.
There are four ranks of nobles—Duke, Counts, Barons, and Lords. I am a lord, the lowest level. So you can understand that a baron such as Cuntz would hold himself as superior. The king has a small standing army. If there is a war, then the nobles provide soldiers.
A noble has control of an economic asset, several farms, unique industries, or a city. The asset provides money to support the household. The higher the rank, the richer the noble is. You could see the wealth in the pavilions at the tourney. Some of the nobles travel from tourney to tourney as a sport.
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