Though a full generation separated them, the two royal claimants were not completely dissimilar. The count, fifty-three, and the prince, nineteen, were both powerfully built, remarkably agile men. That the elder fellow was bald and bearded while the younger was clean-shaven and dark-haired constituted the major quantifiable differences between them. Accomplished athletes, superb sportsmen-they, along with everyone else, looked forward to a week of exciting competition.

The opening day saw the foot-race. The course stretched from the beach near the harbor into the woods, through the quarry, out across the lawns to the castle gate and then back via the same route. The royal banner that had been flying at half-mast on the harbor flagpole had been removed. The contestants' banners-green for the prince, tan for the count-flew on either side of the castle gate. The object of the race was for each man to retrieve his colors and attempt to be the first to hoist them above the harbor.

In the tradition of the chieftains of old, the contestants would compete nude, with the exception of dyed leather harnesses (again, tan for the count, green for the prince) that encircled their genitalia and allowed for the attachment of hanging weights. Each man was afforded his choice of weight to be attached, with the decision having no bearing on the competition itself, but serving as a sign of courage, stamina and virility. For the race, of course, was by no means to be a mere contest of speed; fortitude would weigh heavily in the outcome.

Both men had shaved their genitals, the count going a step further and shaving his entire body with the exception of his robust beard and rather bushy eyebrows. This served to set him more apart from his opponent, who retained a dense pelt of chest-hair. Erin initially elected to compete with the one pound weight suspended between his thighs, but opted instead for the two pound when his adversary immediately called for the heaviest-the five pounder-to be strung from his harness. The men then toed the silver cord spread out on the beach and awaited the dropping of the flag that would signal the start of the race.

Both runners got a good start, but the younger man began to pull ahead after the first ten yards. Though the swinging mass tugging at his scrotum caused him a good deal more discomfort than he had anticipated, the nineteen year old was a fine sprinter. However, the weight was not the worst of what he had to contend with; graver trials of endurance awaited. The course itself would eventually decided the race.

Though Prince Erin enjoyed a lead of several meters coming off the beach, that margin diminished significantly when he performed the long jump over the creek that wound through the forest. His leap itself was flawless, but the landing, and the resultant sharp tug on his scrotum by the two pound weight, nearly brought him to his knees. He struggled on, but his great-uncle managed to draw even with him as they passed through the quarry. The jagged stones and harsh gravel were torture on the soles of the younger man's feet, but seemingly ineffectual against the tough soles of the elder man. When they reached the lawns surrounding the castle, though the terrain again grew smooth, the elder man pulled ahead, for the damage had been done and Prince's Erin's feet were sore and bleeding. Thus Count Ezriel was first to seize his flag and begin the return trip to the beach. As they passed, the two rivals exchanged a look that was enough to convince both of them the contest was as good as over. The younger man conceded the race even before retrieving his own colors. Cheers went up for the victor, who, inspired, completed the course and hoisted his banner on the flagpole overlooking the harbor. The beach was awash that afternoon in tan as his supporters celebrated winning the first event with a party that lasted late into the evening.

Prince Erin, after hurriedly having the two pound weight removed from his genital harness spent most of the afternoon in the medical tent, and nearly all evening enduring a foot-bath of odoriferous salts.

The following day was the lift and carry, and the younger competitor came to the field with a determined air. He had expected to win the foot-race with ease, and his loss weighed heavily on him. By contrast, his great uncle appeared quite confident and relaxed, knowing he was expected to prevail here. And though the previous day had seen a good many predictions proved false, since the elder fellow had done the proving, he anticipated no such upset today.

Though ostensibly a test of strength, there were once again more subtle components to the contest. Both men were required to not only lift and stack several large stone blocks, but to use them to construct a solid base upon which their own statue might be mounted. This required some knowledge of construction, and, Count Ezriel, who had for years supervised the maintenance of his brother's castle, felt this gave him a decided advantage.

He was proven correct almost immediately. While he interlaced his bricks, his grand-nephew laid them side-by-side. This resulted in the younger man suffering devastating setbacks as his bricks twice wobbled and fell. The Count experienced no such difficulties and soon had constructed a solid foundation using all twenty of his allotted bricks. He was then able to stand back with a chilled beverage and watch his rival toil.

Though speed was not in itself an issue until all other criteria for judging the respective structures (such as height and stability) had proven equal, the prince knew he could never construct a taller more stable edifice than his opponent had. Having not expected to prevail, he conceded the contest readily rather than exhaust himself in futile exercise. He even attended the raising of his great-uncle's statue and gamely shook the elder man's hand. He then retired to his tent before the festivities began: for the count's supporters-their ranks swollen with deserters from the prince's camp-were even more exuberant in their appreciation of their champion's success and showed every sign of making their previous evening's celebration seem like a wake.

Day three was the first day of rest. Though for the people supporting Count Ezriel, it proved more an excuse to continue their celebrations. The elder man had taken to wearing his five pound scrotal weight constantly, obliging his grand-nephew to do the same with the two pound weight, and Prince Erin spent an inordinate amount of time seated.

Day four found both ends of the field gripped by a certain seriousness. It was entirely possible that these eagerly-anticipated games might conclude with the pending contest. If Count Ezriel again bested his rival, it would result in a complete rout. The final competitions: wrestling and boxing would prove unnecessary and not be held. And Prince Erin would not only loose the crown, but suffer a most humiliating defeat. Fortunately, the younger man was renown for his sharp eye, and the third contest was to be the spear throw.

Six targets had been setup at one end of the common. Two were magnificent boars, leashed to stakes by several yards of golden cord. Rounding out the group of targets were four humans, one mounted on either side of each boar. These men were naked, and tried, wrists and ankles, between a pair of poles each. Their arms and legs were thus spread wide, and all presented nearly as large a target as the mighty boars they flanked. The object was for each contestant to attempt to kill his boar without harming any of the humans. To make the matter more desperate, the four human targets were made up of associates of the competitors. On either side of Count Ezriel's boar were his secretary and valet; on either side of the prince's boar stood his best friend and training partner. The competitors would take turns throwing spears until one of the boars died.

The elder man, leading in the overall scoring, was awarded the first throw. His spear struck his boar in the beast's hindquarters. The animal squealed and faltered, but did not fall. The prince's spear struck his boar's throat, and the beast collapsed but struggled valiantly up, the shaft of the spear dangling from its neck. Count Ezriel's second throw narrowly missed his animal's belly, grazing the beast but doing no appreciable damaged. Prince Erin's second throw scored a direct hit to his boar's underside, causing the beast to buck and thrash wildly in panic. It attacked one of the men beside it, goring the young man horribly on its sharp tusks. The prince, horrified, attempted to throw a third spear to finish the beast and save his friend, but the judges would not allow it; it was not his turn. Count Ezriel, indifferent to the events transpiring at the other end of the field, called for a time out, claiming to have gotten a splinter lodged in the palm of his hand from one of the rough spears.

But the time the elder man's condition had been attended to, his rival's best friend had been completely disemboweled and hung lifeless by his wrists. The prince's boar had collapsed again, but had yet to expire. The count threw his third spear, piercing his boar's skull and killing the beast instantly. However, Prince Erin's boar died immediately after, giving him the win on a technicality because his beast had been killed with just two throws.

Overwrought from witnessing his friend's demise, the young competitor was unable to attend the subsequent, subdued celebration. It was just as well. A riot ensued when arguments regarding who really should have been awarded the win in the latest contest escalated between the rival camps. The prince's supporters, outnumbered three-to-one, were driven from the field allowing supporters of the count to hold a spontaneous rally in support of their man and to wish him well in the upcoming wrestling match. Count Ezriel himself was persuaded to attend and addressed the crowd with a moving, impromptu speech.

Returning to his tent, the elder man was surprised to discover his young rival waiting there for him. But he was even more startled by the prince's proposal: Erin offered to concede all claims to the throne in exchange for an end to the competition and a high cabinet post in the new monarchy. Count Ezriel laughed at the idea, and reminded his grand-nephew that both men had agreed that the populace required the contest as proof that their new king was the best man for the job. The prince added that he would be willing to make a public pronouncement of the elder man's superiority, if only for the good of the nation. Again the count laughed, saying he could not accept that the games conclude without a clear resolution, and that he certainly wasn't interested in having the prince as part of his court.

Humiliated, the younger man offered to concede the throne anyway, simply to end the games. He claimed the loss of his friend, coupled with his inability to score a decisive win in the spear throw and the subsequent riot that his questionable victory had inspired, left him able to form no other conclusion than that the games themselves were proving harmful to the nation's morale. The count still refused to end the competition, claiming a clear resolution to the games was exactly what the country needed. At that point, Prince Erin broke down, kneeling before his rival, tears flowing freely down his face, and begged to be spared further embarrassment. Count Ezriel laughed more boisterously than ever, and the younger man fell down before him, prostrating himself and kissing the elder man's feet, first with his lips and then with long adoring swipes of his tongue.

The count was not indifferent to this abject servility; he waited until both of his feet glistened with the younger man's saliva, but then staunchly and finally refused Erin's request. Realizing there was no hope of changing his great-uncle's mind, Erin had risen, his face burning with humiliation beneath his mask of tears, and said that he would see his great-uncle in the morning. When morning came, however, the prince had gone.

Before even being offered the crown by default, Count Ezriel declared that no coronation could take place until his brother's grandchild was caught. He asked for volunteers to form a posse and aid him in the search, and was eventually forced to turn away more than half the men who stepped forward-there simply were too many.

Before nightfall, the count and his men had surrounded Prince Erin who was holed-up in a tower with a handful of supporters. The two camps parleyed, and the elder man offered the younger a chance to surrender, saying that if he did, the men who had fled with him would receive full pardons. The prince asked what his own fate would be in that case, and was told in no uncertain terms that he would be tried for sedition. Erin, therefore, refused to surrender, only to have his second betray him on the spot and announce that all the men hiding in the tower were ready to declare their allegiance to Count Ezriel.

Devastated, Prince Erin announced he, too, would surrender and accept his punishment, only to be told by his great-uncle that the offer was no longer on the table. The prince now had but two options, return to the tower and await morning when he would be hunted down by the posse and killed, or face the count in the wrestling match the young man had fled to avoid. The prince chose the later, for in that, at least, he felt he might salvage some dignity.

He was vastly mistaken. Count Ezriel proved to be a consummate wrestler: both dexterous and strong, and also highly skilled in the art of submission holds. Again and again Prince Erin's young body was twisted and tied into knots, tormented to the edge of endurance and released only when it appeared he was on the verge of surrender. He fought back to the best of his ability, and indeed evinced extensive skill, but it proved no match for the elder man's diabolical ability to inflict torture. The match lasted as long as it did due mainly to the fact that Count Ezriel wanted to expose his rival for the weakling and coward that he believed the young man to be. His achievements eventually exceeded even his expectations, however, when, in desperation, Prince Erin grabbed a sword from one of the men gathered around to watch the fight, and attacked his unarmed opponent with it.

The count was nearly cut down before thrown a sword of his own by another of the men. The two rivals then engaged in a short duel that ended only when Erin, disarmed and bleeding from a multitude of cuts and shallow stab wounds, fell to his knees and pleaded for a quick end.

Count Ezriel stood before his vanquished foe with a look of utter triumph coloring his face. His cock, bloated by the strenuous contest and his mastery of the other man, stood nearly straight out from his shaved crotch. His large scrotum, stretched by the five pound weight that still hung from it, swung pendulously between his thighs. He did not raise his sword again, however, instead ordering his men to seize the prince, who was then pilloried, tied to a stake for the night, and marched back to the castle in disgrace the following morning.

Prince Erin's beheading took place just before the coronation because no king could act as executioner, and the count was adamant that he wield the mighty ax that ended his grand-nephew's life. Still naked, both still wearing their scrotal weights, the two men were accompanied onto the common by an honor guard. The prince, his hands manacled behind his back, was made to kneel before the chopping block. Much to his great-uncle's satisfaction, the young man pleaded one more time for mercy. He was eventually gagged and tied to the blood-stained stump, where he continued to sob as the ax was raised and then, amid cheers from all those assembled to watch, fell with a resounding crack.