The crowd erupted into both cheers and moans with an occasional drunken yell as the champion of the tourney raised his arms high above his head. He proceeded to beat his chest and make barely audible noises at the audience. “I, the mighty Gonzales, the bastard of Dimsmouth, stand undefeated at this pitiful engagement of royals!” The warrior stood yelling out to the silent mass. “Can no one here really best me? I thought you were the knights and heroes of legend? I was lead to believe that no commoner who challenged the noble knights could ever defeat them, but here I am!” It was true, all of the knights who had dueled Gonzales left the arena bruised and aching, except for the unlucky few who were sent to home with broken bones.

A fairly awkward silence extended from the crowd, a few shuffles and mumbles, but no one seemed brave enough to challenge his taunts. The silence persisted for nearly a full minute before two men abruptly stood up, seemingly at the same time. They both stared awkwardly at one another. It looked like they were pleading the other to sit down so that they wouldn’t have to discuss who would duel Gonzales, but neither did. They both marched down the stands to greet each other and Gonzales himself.

The first man to speak up was Bertram, a tall, blonde, and beautiful man, a shining example of a perfect stereotype. “Greetings, I am Bertram though some know me as the Winter Blade. I have traveled far and wide slaying the most fearsome beasts and winning honor for my lord. I will now kindly ask you to turn around and take your seat so that I may give this ruffian a proper wholloping.” 

“My apologies Ser Bertram, but I will do no such thing. I am Ser Ogden, the round, they calll me that because of my brilliant round shield that I carry into battle.” This was obviously not true as “the round” referred to his stature and size rather than reffering to any skill he might possess. Ser Ogden was very interesting to look at indeed. He seemed to stand at nearly 5’3” his height was complemented by his enormous belly. Ogden had a very round and red face adorned with hideous muttonchops flaked with crumbs from his meal prior.

Everyone seemed unimpressed by the portly knight, it was a tourney! They wanted to see Gonzales and Bertram clash swords for a truly magnificent final event to an otherwise anticlimactic tournament. The crowd yelled at Ogden trying to convince him that Bertram was the one they wanted to see fight, but it only seemed to increase his resolve to prove himself. “Oh for God’s sake!” Gonzales yelled. “Ogden you are far too large and stupid to fight me. I would crush your puny head in an instant, run back to your seat so that I may enjoy the little time I have left in the day.”

“How rude.” Ogden mumbled under his breath. “All of you seem to want to see a grandiose fight between two men of equal status, but I stood first! It is my right to beat this man into submission.”

“To hell with you, you blundering oaf! How can you be so stubborn?! I WILL NOT DUEL YOU!”

The crowd proceeded to boo the poor man. They called him all sorts of rude names and slurs. Ogden looked like he was on the verge of tears, even Ser Bertram seemed bothered by the crowds treatment of the small fat knight. Ogden ran off behind the stands wailing into his arms. Bertram glanced at Gonzales and the crowd before swiftly running after him.

No fight took place that day, but from that event a glorious friendship emerged between two very unlikely men.