For the rest of the evening after the showman ran out of Mintas, the townsfolk celebrated. It wasn’t that they particularly enjoyed running strangers out of town, but it was something that broke up the monotony.
Welter and his friends were the most boisterous of those reveling, which was understandable considering the amount of work they put into making their fight seem realistic.
“Oh man, Fieder, having the idea to run and get some raspberry jam was absolute genius. When you spit that mouthful out, I thought that charlatan was going to lose it right there.” Welter slapped his friend on the back and raised a glass in his honor.
Fieder laughed, “Hardest part was holding it in my cheek. I kept having to tell myself not to eat it!”
Another loud cheer went up as everyone around the hall agreed that the Hannowby’s fruit preserves were the best in the region.
The second to last of the combatants to fall raised his own glass in a toast, “For my money, the best part was the fake head slams. That’s what put him over the edge. I think he would have run off right then if his wagon had been packed. I only wish I had a better view, but I had to play unconscious.”
“If I would have known that Welter was going to actually hit me in the nose a couple of times, I would have let you win our bout and have you take second place.”
Welter jumped down from his place on the table and clapped his buddy on the back. “Sorry mate, but I had to make it look realistic. Slow and careful head-butts wouldn’t have sold it anywhere near as well.”
“You’re just saying that because you get to wear the belt.” Fieder gestured to the gaudy gold-colored metal plate affixed to a wide leather belt.
“Ah,” Welter smiled, “probably true. I am the champion of champions now.” The older Koraski boy raised his arms in triumph and jogged around the room relishing the cheers of the crowd. As he finished his second lap, he hopped back up onto the table. Ignoring the look from his mom that said he should get down immediately, he threw his arms out and motioned for quiet.
“Good friends,” he said loudly, “we celebrate today the transfer of this, the Belt of Champions, to one of our own. Sadly, it is not mine to keep though I would cherish all the days of my life, despite or perhaps because of its hideous beauty. No, this belt shall be passed from champion to champion for all the years of our town’s history. Each season, during the holidays, we shall have another mock battle. The most well-played combatant will carry the belt for the next season. The crowd cheered again and most of the older teenagers spent the rest of the evening talking about how they badly they would pretend to beat the others.
Welter was true to his word and the belt passed to another during the Mid-Summer holidays. By the time Welter decreed that he would be stepping down from the competition, he had won the belt more times than any other. As he surrendered his post as the Champion of Champions for the last time, he introduced a new generation of competitors starting with his younger brother Pete.
As more of the older kids stepped away from the seasonal tradition, more of Kre’s generation stepped in to take their place. When Syonette moved to Mintas a couple of years ago, just a few days short of the Harvestdays holiday, she joined in the event and won the belt. That was also the night that Noj claims to have fallen in love with her.