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Time tends to run regardless of our desires. After all, it seems that just yesterday I was calmly sorting through the herbs in Chloe's house, and today I'm shaking in the cart, cursing our lord who saves on roads, and trying to put at least something under the sore fifth point. It's been 5 years since that day.
The following days, after the beginning of my military training with my brother, were not particularly original. All the same, waking up an hour before sunrise, jogging, warming up and running in full gear. Then I went either to study with Chloe, who, after my study of all the medicinal properties of plants known to her, began to teach me how to create poisons and antidotes, or to hunt, where I practiced archery and the ability to set traps, simultaneously reducing the number of forest animals and increasing your wallet. The only variety in this schedule was brought by my mother when she asked me to try to get fish along with the meat. Looks like relatives were tired of a completely meat diet, and they wanted to diversify it. So I got a new pastime - to stand on the rocks in the shallow water of the river and try to shoot the fish. At first I only spoiled the arrows, but soon the Cold family had fish days.
Half a year flew by so quietly, until my father decided that our endurance was enough, and we passed this stage of training. A new hell has begun. Now we practiced different strikes hundreds of times every day from different stances with different weapons. And it would be nice to just swing a sword or an ax, so the father set a condition - all movements must be perfectly calibrated, accurate to the millimeter. According to him, his clan's fighting style was relentless attacks. They were achieved through the use of inertia and its subsequent neutralization by muscle strength. Each movement should flow into the next, constantly striking from a variety of and unexpected positions, or stop abruptly to break the rhythm of the opponent, striking him from an uncomfortable position, in his opinion. And if with a sword and a dagger it was easy to do, then with an ax my father worked real miracles. He twirled his 10 kilogram battle ax, which was so two-handed, like a wand, holding it with one hand and forgetting about the existence of inertial forces. It was more like an art than a way to kill people, but all doubts about the strength and danger of his technique disappeared when he effortlessly cut a tree in half with a single blow, a quarter of a meter in diameter. The heroic strength, which, according to him, we also inherited and increased.
As my father later said, this style of wielding an ax was invented by the last head of his clan, who lived a century and a half ago. According to legend, he once visited Meereen, one of the largest cities on another continent - Esossa. There was a local analogue of the Colosseum - fighting pits. According to stories passed from mouth to mouth, there he watched the battle of two gladiators. One used a light sword that looked like a needle, and the other used a giant battle ax so large that its owner was rumored to have cut off an elephant's head with it. The battle eventually ended with the victory of the gladiator with a light sword, who won thanks to his technique - smooth and calm. The ancestor was amazed at the sight and thought - what if the giant had the same technique, and could smoothly strike with his weapon. The owner of such a fighting style would be very difficult to defeat.
The first people from whom the northerners descended were always famous for their strength and growth, and were not inferior in physical strength to that defeated gladiator, who was a giant for the locals. This is how the style of handling heavy weapons was born, based on all its advantages, but based on softness and technicality, and not on strength and weight.
This story impressed me very much, because the ancestor of the clan from which my father came out did the same thing that Sasaki Kojiro did on Earth. He created a style of handling heavy weapons that removes his main drawback - wild inertia. With this motivation, I began to train much more with the axe. And Aerys... this is Aerys. His father could not beat out of him a dislike for axes and their derivatives, and he remained an ardent lover of swords, most of the time training with them. Although I must admit, he had a talent for this particular weapon.
A year later, horseback riding and the study of the knightly code were added to these exercises. When asked why we need this set of rules, the ex-knight himself shrugged his shoulders and said that this was a kind of trigger that separates the noble from the simple killer. The questions stopped. The following years weren't much different, except for ending my apprenticeship with Chloe at age 9 and beginning my apprenticeship with Bern, who took me on because of the solidarity that I'm half northerner and much persuasion backed up by 3 silver moons. Although I had great doubts that he could teach me anything, with my knowledge, it was difficult to find a better place to practice.
I also continued to communicate with the old herbalist, often visiting her and giving her the herbs collected during the hunt. At first, she tried to give me money for this, but she came across polite refusals and arguments that they did not take money from the family, and I sincerely considered her my grandmother. The latter touched her so much that she taught me several "secret" recipes that were not included in the "standard" herbalist's kit. Attempts to repay the help ceased after that, but I perfectly saw how she handed over a small purse to my mother, who put it aside for other savings.
Now we were on our way to Ashmark, where a tournament and a fair were held in honor of the fifth name day of Adam Marbrand, heir to these lands. I have royal plans for this trip. First, you need to buy a thoroughbred foal, which in the future will become my horse. I planned to leave home at the age of 14, a sufficient age to travel alone and leave the care of the family. The sooner I do this, the better. A storm is coming. And this is understandable even without my knowledge. Aerys II Targaryen, or Aerys the Caller, as he was popularly known for his empty statements, had already shown himself to be an abominable ruler. He began to quarrel with the Guardian of the West, canceled most of the reforms of his grandfather, Aegon the Incredible, sent the Iron Bank to hell, introduced a huge list of duties that greatly complicated trade throughout the continent, and finally fell in the eyes of the clergy. According to the stories of the septon, who had recently traveled to Lannisport from King's Landing and stopped at an inn not far from the farm, it turned out that Aerys, who had previously shared his wife's grief at the loss of children who died in infancy, began to present absurd accusations to the queen, declaring that "Seven do not allow on the Iron Throne of the bastards" - supposedly all the dead children were the fruits of Rayla's betrayals with some lovers, and the king himself has nothing to do with them. All of King's Landing knows that he imprisoned his wife in a dungeon, leaving several female nuns there as overseers. After such respect for him, as for the king, fell below the plinth. The inhabitants of the Western Lands are more or less fortunate - as long as the Great Lion of the West, Tywin Lannister, is the Hand, he will not allow the king's people to plunder their lands. For the rest, unfortunately, Fortune did not smile like that.
The second reason is the tournament. It is too early for me to participate in general fights or tournament clashes, but I can take part in the archery competition. The father, however, wanted to warm up in the general fight, proving to himself that he had not rusted during the time of peace and that he could also "give a kick to pompous knights."
The third reason was banal - trade. The harvest has not yet ripened and the "autumn arable land" is still far away, so most of the goods in our cart are my prey. Horns of giant deer, fangs of wild boars and wolves, dozens of dressed skins, several bags of feathers and down, and finally, a whole centner of smoked meat of any game, from simple partridges to the leg of a giant boar. And we must not forget about my pride - a whole bag of expensive skins of ermines, weasels and sables - a great rarity in our lands. Usually they live much further north - in the northern lands of the River District or in the North itself. There are few of them in the Western lands and the locals, due to the availability of other prey, are not used to hunting them.
So in Westeros, as in the Middle Ages, it is forbidden to hunt big game, since it is the property of the king and his vassals. But there is always an exception. Remembering what an idiot I felt when I found out that for participation in the suppression of the Rein and Tarbek uprising, our family is allowed to hunt any animal in the Western Lands, I want to hang myself on the nearest bough.
"How much money did I lose because of my stupidity, having missed so much loot" - at these thoughts, my hand landed on my face by itself, making a classic gesture in my home world. The interesting fact that my father participated in the suppression of the rebellion and fought in both battles of Tarbeckhall, I learned only six months ago, and then by accident. He does not like to mention this because of his new nickname received in battle. Which unfortunately is not known.
Our farm was close to the River Road, equidistant from Ashmark, Sarsfield, and Goldtooth, so it only took half a day to get to the right place. Having left the house on a wagon in the morning, by the evening the castle belonging to the Marbrand family already appeared on the horizon.
***
"Habit is second nature," I thought, waking up, as always, an hour before dawn. Rising from the bed and brushing off the local fleas (brr, at our house I had already eradicated them a long time ago), I went outside, to the well. "Wherever you are, you should not stop training."
Having descended into the yard, in the center of which a well was dug, I set about water procedures and a light workout. In this form, I was caught by a local waitress. Observing all the cliches of some second-rate movie, she first blushed, then turned pale, and then, again blushing, she rushed into the house.
"What kind of girls went? Have you ever seen naked people in your life? – I thought, pouring another bucket of cold water. And you will think that this time I was in the same pants. We all people. We differ only in primary and secondary sexual characteristics. Medieval, what can I say.
Half an hour later, my father joined me, becoming a couple with me to embarrass the local peasant women. This was followed by light sparring with blunted swords, breakfast, which was so-so compared to mother's food, and our departure to the fair site.
If anyone hoped that this fair was similar to those shown in cartoons and TV shows, then he is deeply mistaken. There were no orderly and neat rows of stalls greeted by merchants praising their goods, there were no minstrels singing their songs about great heroes and princesses, there were no people arranging dances around the fire. In fact, it was just a huge wasteland, where a bunch of people, under the supervision of local guards, took a strictly designated place and began to trade. Nobody arranged dances here, and the minstrels, if they were, are now sleeping off after yesterday's booze. This brethren has always been without exception alcoholics.
Gray boring days dragged on. If someone thinks that the life of a merchant is a constant argument with customers, planning deals, talking to customers and trying to deceive them, then he may be right, but not in my case. The first five days were very boring. Just sit back and watch that petty thieves don't steal anything. And the only islands of joy were the very moments of trading, which do not occur often. Oh-oh-oh... It was wonderful. I immediately recall a past life when I bargained in the markets in Baghdad and Tehran, visiting these cities for work. This eternal argument, price gouging, the game of offended innocence... The Jew sang in my soul. But all you need to do is not refuse directly, make light and unobtrusive hints, carefully compare the product with someone else's in favor of your own and give the buyer the illusion that he himself set the price. How I liked it. On the locals, this show was one hundred percent effective. They left and did not understand how they managed to buy meat or fangs used here in craft or medicine, 2 times more expensive than the rest. The difference in mentality decides. But there were also grated rolls. The merchants of Lannisport and the Riverlands did not fall for my game. Here they had to bargain seriously.
For just one "conversation" with a merchant from Old Town, which is taking place now, at the end of the fifth day, who wished to buy the antlers of a giant deer, all ancestors up to the 7th knee, all sick and poor relatives, all conceivable and inconceivable types of insults, all the most intricate curses and flattering compliments that carry sweet molasses from a mile away. We ended up parting after 2 hours completely satisfied with each other - I have my five dragons, 138 deer and 27 pennies and he has giant horns, which, due to the bans of most lords on hunting, are very difficult to get.
- It was necessary to take you to such fairs earlier. – From the euphoria after a good deal, I was distracted by the voice of my father. He looked dazed, like all the other merchants in the wasteland. In front of their eyes, I did what they could not - bargained with merchants - people who, in everyday life, in two words can force a peasant to sell his crop for next to nothing. "More money would have been made."
In local realities, peasants are not used to haggling. Not knowing such a thing as pricing and not knowing how to properly display their goods, ordinary people simply agreed to the prices offered by merchants. Those, of course, did not strongly borzeli, giving such a price so that the peasant could survive and deliver goods to them again next year, but they themselves sold "honestly" bought two or even 3 times more expensive. Speculation in its purest form. I'm sure these horns will go to the maesters of the Citadel for at least fifteen dragons.
- So I don't mind. - Putting unsold skins in the cart, I said. The day was coming to an end, and the counter had to be cleared. "But you always refused me, saying that I would not be of any use.
Who knew you had such a talent for verbiage? Father chuckled into his moustache. In general, the last days, leaving the auction on me, either trained in the inn, or slept. The word did not allow him to drink. My word, which I will definitely tell my mother. And the father does not want to reacquaint himself with his face and a wooden rolling pin. With her hot temper, Cersei is very similar to her famous namesake in the future, who is already four years old.
- You didn't ask. He just smiled at my words. Tomorrow is the last day of the fair. The only day when the lord and his family come down from the castle and visit the fair themselves, hoping to find something unique and interesting. The sight of the castle only made me chuckle. "Lady Marbrand is rumored to be a big fashionista.
- What do you mean? - Looking at my father's puzzled look, I just smiled, expecting a fun show tomorrow.
***
- How many?!!
- Thirty dragons.
- It's a robbery! These shreds are not worth a single dragon! The roar of Lord Damon Marbrand rippled through the fairground, silencing all other sounds.
- Don't buy it. I replied, pretending to be more interested in my nails than in the rage-reddened face of the Lannister standard bearer. The lord himself had long black hair, an oval face with a large square nose, and colorless gray eyes that now seemed to burn with rage. "Any lady in the Western Lands would love to buy these furs, and at a higher price.
These words were addressed not to the lord, but to the one who stood behind him - Lady Marbrand, holding by the shoulders a five-year-old boy - the reason for the "holiday" - Ashford's heir Adam Marbrand. Judging by the delight with which the lady looked at the fox pelt, constantly bringing it to her face and inhaling its scent, Chloe was right.
- Yes, you know, boy, that for such money I can hire and equip two knights! Do you think your product is worth that much money? - Apparently, he has already calmed down, and his anger has been replaced by cold fury. It is unpleasant for a nobleman when a simple, rootless huckster puts forward conditions for him.
- Costs. It was evident from Damon's bulging eyes that he had not expected such insolence. "Think about it yourself – weasels and stoats are a huge rarity in the Western Lands. And these are unique. I found them in an old apple orchard where they have been eating juicy and wild apples all their lives. All their wool was saturated with the smell of these fruits. Where else in these lands will you find such a thing? Who else can offer you such a unique fur that even merchants from Essos would envy?
After such a tirade, a drooping jaw was added to the bulging eyes. It took the lord about 10 seconds to orient himself and come to his senses. Having promised me all heavenly punishments with his eyes, he was about to turn around and leave, when he came across a glance that promised him the same thing. Judging by the sharp turn of his head and the understanding that appeared in his eyes, it dawned on Marbrand that the entire monologue was addressed not to him, but to his wife. And if he does not buy these furs, then it will be easier to drown himself in the nearest well than to return to the castle. And three things do not allow him to use his right as a lord and simply take away my goods - his own pride, a reputation that will be broken after such a trick in front of all the people present, and my father, calmly sharpening a battle ax to the side. Or rather, the fibula hanging on his cloak, in the form of a large gold and small red lion. Such decorations can only be worn by those who performed well during the Rein and Tarbek uprising, and therefore only by those favored by the Great Lion. The "pathetic" 30 dragons are not worth even the slightest bit of dissatisfaction with the Lion of the West.
- Fine. Give me those skins. - Said Marbrand, starting to count 30 gold rounds from the purse. - But if at least one skin is spoiled or odorless, then I will hang you on the nearest bitch, for deceiving the lord. - But the last he said, in order to somehow restore his reputation. We need to help him - thirty dragons are not worth the enemy among the nobility.
- I vouch for my goods. - Putting my hand on my heart and bowing slightly at the waist, I said. This posture reflexively makes a person relax a little. The main thing is not to forget about the soft, but not fawning tone. Let me congratulate you. Soon, as soon as your craftsmen work on this beautiful fur, all of Westeros will know about your love for your wife and your willingness to go to such great expense for her sake.
Well, about the whole continent, I turned down, but all the Western lands at the expense of local merchants and minstrels, who are local world gossips, will know about it for sure. Judging by the fleeting smile that appeared, Lord Damon perfectly understood my hint. Lady Marbrand was nee a Lannister of Lannisport. The Lannisters there will respond very well to such a gesture from Master Ashmark. Improved reputation costs much more than the measly 30 gold.
Local lords left satisfied beyond measure - one almost free of charge improved his reputation with his wife's family, the second acquired a unique product that is very difficult to get, and the third - the birthday boy - was simply glad to leave this place, where the stench became almost unbearable after 6 days of parking.
For the rest of the observers, a miracle has now happened - the lord, not only did not kill the insolent person who dared to demand something from him and raise the price, he also paid the established fee, which for ordinary people was a fortune.
After that, the remaining few goods sold like hot cakes. Most bought even without bidding, instantly agreeing to the set price. After all, how. Since the lord himself bought furs here at such a high price, it means that the goods here are of very high quality and will last much longer. And the fact that they do not differ much from others on the market ... so the lord knows better. On Earth, this happened when celebrities advertised a device, becoming a guarantor of quality and popularity.
The fair ended in a couple of hours. As a result, my father and I became the owners of 36 golden dragons, 408 deer and 812 pennies. Provided that a copper penny can buy the cheapest sausage and a horn of ale, a silver deer can buy a hearty dinner at a roadside inn, and there is still a handful of coppers left as change, this is very good money. A new complete set of knightly armor - long chain mail, a plate collar, mittens and a helmet - costs 800 deer at the same Bern, or even more. Although at the fair, the old worn-out armor of the boundary knight was sold for only 200 deer. So thirty dragons for a poor person, for example, a singer, is a fortune, with this money you can sail away to the Free Cities and lead a life full of pleasures there.
Even ten dragons can be called "a fortune" that are instantly gone after one important purchase. But a good thoroughbred foal, which will grow into a strong and powerful warhorse (I saw his parents - monsters, not horses) was worth the money. He was of the Northern Shire breed, the largest horses in Westeros, reaching almost two meters at the withers, similar to a hybrid of Spanish Andues and English Shires. The only suppliers of these beautiful horses were the Riswells, one of the most ancient horse breeders of the continent. It is believed that their horses are the best option for a heavy rider, on a par with Brackens and Florents. Other breeds do not suit me. Judging by the growth rate, then soon I will significantly surpass my father in size, and he is one meter ninety centimeters tall.
"I didn't think we had enough money for such a luxury." - Said the father, watching as I played with a small foal, which was two years old at most, and he was already the size of a large adult dog. How he will grow with good nutrition and training, I'm afraid to even imagine. Here my modest knowledge, gleaned from a friend who has horses and his own hippodrome, fails. I can name a couple of breeds of horses and that's it. In taming and educating me, to enlighten me, along with my brother, who also bought a foal, although not so good - "only" for 5 dragons - will be the head of the family. You traded well. Money is never redundant. But remember, son, when you travel, distinguish between your personality as a knight and a merchant. They mutually hate each other, since the life of knights is built on noble traditions and honor, while merchants are based on profit, for which they can sell these traditions and honor.
- Are you a father? I asked as we walked to the front desk, leaving the foals in the care of the groom. The stadium was erected yesterday, near the castle, and today was the last day of registration for the tournament. Are you like a knight?
- I'm a warrior, son. Like all northerners. He looked at me seriously, he said. – When you live every day on the edge of the blade, and it is not known whether you will remain alive tomorrow, the principles of knights become unimportant to you. The main thing is to survive and return home. At any cost.
- I see... We've arrived. - The place of registration for the tournament was a small stand with three wooden shields, with the image of a spear, sword and bow. Sitting behind her was a small plump peasant, constantly yawning and fanning himself with papers, as if with a fan.
- Greetings to the esteemed manager of the tournament. - Even our appearance did not distract him from his thoughts, judging by the look at the tavern, aimed at choosing the wine that he will drink in the evening. Only the voice of his father made him look away and look at us more meaningfully.
- Greetings to future participants of the tournament! - His face instantly became smiling and ingratiating, as soon as he noticed the fibula hanging on his father's cloak. There are only 500 such decorations and they went to the most distinguished participants in the suppression of the uprising. This immediately says that you have a strong warrior in front of you, who can easily blow your head off. - Let me know your names and what stages do you want to sign up for? Surely you, sire, want to take part in clashes, showing your strength, power and nobility ..
- Enough, enough. - His father interrupted when he realized that this manager would describe each competition in this way. My name is Alexander Cold. I want to sign up for a general fight. This is my son, Felix. Sign him up for an archery contest.
- Of course, sir. - If every steward is like that, I don't really want to participate in tournaments. His sugary smile strained me very much, creating associations with lovers of little boys. Even if it doesn't threaten me. I'll kill him first. "So, Ser Alexander Cold is in the general fight, and young Felix Cold…
- Not Cold. He is my second son and has not yet been knighted. - Corrected his father. He doesn't have a last name yet.
- Fine. - If he was annoyed that we interrupted him, then he skillfully did not show it. "Young Felix will take part in the archery competition. Is everything right?
- Yes.
- Then congratulations on entering the Ashford Tournament, dedicated to the fifth anniversary of Lord Damon Marbrand's heir, Adam Marbrand. - He uttered a phrase that was said dozens of times, which are said to all the knights taking part in this tournament.
Saying goodbye to the manager, and mentally wishing not to meet with him again, my father and I went to the hotel. It was necessary to get enough sleep and wake up early, completely stretching the body and spirit.
The next day met us with a bright warm sun, gently warming everyone around. If we add to this the rich red and yellow color of the leaves that have been hanging on the trees for half a year, then an illusion was created that the world was ablaze in bright yellow colors. Pushkin would have liked this world - here you can admire his beloved autumn for a whole year.
In the morning, having warmed up and having a good breakfast with not too heavy food, my father and I went to the tournament. At the beginning of the day, horse skirmishes take place, where knights knock each other out with spears at full gallop. Then there is a general fight - a kind of struggle, where everyone is for himself. At the same time, an archery competition takes place, where local craftsmen show off their shooting skills.
"Of course it's a pity that I won't see how my father fights. But I wanted so much "- Such thoughts visited me while I was walking to the venue of my competition. I didn't really like the horse fight. This kind of competition is too specific. Initially, tournaments were created to train and demonstrate the skills of knights in peacetime. The essence of equestrian duels was that equestrian knights fight each other with special blunt spears. Their goal is to knock the opponent to the ground, hitting as successfully as possible. The one who can stay in the saddle the longest is declared the winner. In real battles, this happens only at the moment of the collision of knightly cavalry. The ability to keep oneself in the saddle is the main condition for survival in such moments. The rest of the actual combat in tournaments is represented by skirmish. In itself, this is just rubilovo, where horsemen or footmen fight each other until one winner remains. In my opinion, the ability to kill one's neighbor in battle should be valued more than the ability to poke an enemy with a spear at the beginning of a battle. But here it's the other way around.
Archery competition is different. It is arranged for commoners, since for them the bow, according to the aristocracy, which is the weapon of the mob, is much closer than an expensive spear or sword. Most often this is simple target shooting, but sometimes exceptions are made. In Dorne, tournaments are most often held in the format of a solar spear - a test when you need to hit a vertical rather than a horizontal target. We must not forget shooting at moving targets and shooting at rings, which are carried out in the case of large tournaments, when almost everyone present is landowners who are not interested in watching a "traditional" competition.
But now it's all pattern.
***
- And today's winner of our archery tournament is a young archer named Felix, Alexander's son! - loudly broadcast the manager of the tournament, after my last shot.
"It could have been better," I thought, looking at my target, where ten arrows in a row hit the center of the target, the size of the phalanx of the little finger, and the latter generally repeated the old legend about Robin Hood - split one of the arrows in half. The rest of the participants, who are more hunters from the surrounding lands or free shooters, were able to hit with a maximum of eight arrows out of 10. The specifics of their craft played their role. It is important for mercenaries to be able to shoot canopy in large groups during battles. Of course, there are professional shooters among them, but such people have long been occupying good places in mercenary units and they are not interested in such small-town competitions. With hunters, another problem is distance and training. Usually the animals are shot from 50 steps, while the minimum distance for tournaments is 70. And they rarely shoot, only on the hunt, where most of the time is devoted to tracking down game or setting traps. Whereas I train at least 4 hours a day with only one bow. According to my father, I am already an excellent shooter, but this is not enough.
"Many people elevate the possession of a bow to the rank of art, but this is not so." Such thoughts swirled in my head as I helped my father take off his armor in our tent. – "Art is something that people do not understand and cannot explain with their current capabilities, and what can be trained, improved and explained is a skill that must be strived to bring to unattainable perfection"
The father also won the general fight. According to the butler, whom I managed to catch and question, under the threat of a fist under his nose, he scattered all his opponents, simply distributing blows to the right and left with his giant ax. The boy, although in fact he was my age, said that it was like a dance, where each blow was perfected and verified, and with each stroke one of the knights fell to the ground of the list like a broken doll.
"If in two words - dad had fun"
The awards ceremony was held at the same arena. The rewards were average for a tournament of this level. A knight-errant from the Reach, who won the jousting, got a hundred golden dragons and a bottle of golden Arbor wine. Judging by the fact that he enjoyed the wine more than the money, soon a good amount would be drunk in the tavern of Ash Tree Village. For the victory, my father got 50 dragons and a good steel sword worth at least several hundred deer. This is a good gift - only one out of 10 blacksmiths knows how to forge weapons and finding them is still a problem. We were lucky in this regard - Bern was a very good generalist, able to forge weapons and armor.
My reward was the most modest - 30 golden dragons and a good birch bow made from wood brought from the North. Only in order not to see my smiling face, Lord Marbrand forced his son to give out my award, which did not add to the mood of the boy, torn from his mother's skirt.
After listening to the final speech of the lord, reduced to gratitude for attending his son's birthday and inviting the visiting noble gentlemen to the table in the castle, my father and I went to the hotel. We had to get ready, and tomorrow they would fall off home, to the family waiting for our return.
So ended my first, but not the last tournament in this world.