The Tale of Sir Ector de Insta


This is a tale of Sir Ector de Insta. Across an ocean and over the mountains, he was known as the greatest knight of an age. None of his peers in the land of Pendragon could unseat him in a jousting tournament, best him with sword and shield, or defeat him in a simple game of dice.



On a bright and sunny day, King Uther of Pendragon announced a tournament where only the best knights would compete. To the winner went the spoils, a gold helmet lined with diamonds and the prestige of being the greatest warrior of an age. By wearing King Uther’s trophy, the victor would never have to pay to eat, drink, or be merry.



Sir Ector de Insta prepared diligently for the tournament. He ran over fields mile after mile. He practiced holding his blade, dueling anyone who came near. He jousted again and again. The fear of losing, damaging his growing reputation, pushed his abilities to new heights. Finally, the day of the tournament came.



Of course, all the other knights in the tournament fell to Sir Ector de Insta’s blade. However, he would have to defend the trophy each year. A winner’s curse.



After the victory, Sir Ector changed. Instead of improving his skills, he ate, drank and became more than merry. He posed with the villagers. Kissed babies. Tried to win the hearts of the fairest in the villages. Watched fireworks and partied at festivals. With all of his new found responsibilities, he forgot all about the up and comers and all the knights he had bested. Distracted, he rarely rode a horse or held his sword.



Then, the tournament arrived again. King Uther called this the tournament of pegasus. Why? No one knows.



When Sir Ector de Insta entered the arena this time, his sword felt heavy. His round sagged over his belt.



The first knight he faced deflected his blade and kicked his shield aside. Easily bested, Sir Ector cried and cried. His fans mourned. King Uther cast him out of the arena with contempt. And nobody wanted to pose with Sir Ector de Insta or let him kiss babies anymore. The mob, or crowd, had found a new idol to adore.



Always look over your shoulder. Never stop practicing.


The End.

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