Duel

As William sat in the carriage gifted to him by his sister, another man sat across from him.

He was over six feet tall, broad and muscular, with a thick brown beard. One eye was hidden behind his tousled brown hair, the other sharp and dark gray. His attire was that of a State Chief.

"Ahem!" the man coughed lightly.

"My prince, I am Quell Timid, from the Timid Household. From this point onward, I am under your service. If you have any concerns or questions, you may address them to me."

Quell bowed slightly from his seat.

William responded with a sly smile. "Are you strong?"

Though the question was simple, it was also disrespectful—questioning the strength of a member of the Timid Household. Rage burned within Quell, but he remained composed.

"Yes, indeed, my prince. I assure you, your father the king could not have chosen a better man for the job," Quell replied calmly, hiding his irritation.

"You question my strength? Your family needs a battalion of servants to survive a day—including you," Quell thought but kept silent.

William kept smiling. "Where is the carriage headed?"

Before Quell could answer, the carriage came to a stop.

"Perhaps it's better to show you, my lord," Quell said, standing to open the door.

A burst of sunlight flooded the carriage, revealing rows of men dressed in State uniforms.

"As you know, each year thousands apply to join the State. Only around 1,000 make it. Before you stand the successful candidates, along with 150 of my own men—seasoned veterans who will train them on this journey."

"Interesting," William muttered as an idea formed in his head. He stood up.

"Oh, my lord, please remain seated. They’re aware of how exhausting the ceremony must have been. I can introduce them to you tomorrow," Quell offered quickly.

"No need. Today will do," William said, stepping out of the carriage.

The soldiers stood in perfect formation. William walked among them, then suddenly stopped. He approached a tall soldier with gray hair and blue eyes—Commander Rock from Crownshade.

He had applied for the State exam, passed with flying colors, and was now enlisted in the "Steps to a King" tradition.

"State your name!" William commanded.

"Rock, my lord!" the man replied nervously.

"Which household are you from? You forgot to mention that," William said coldly.

"My lor—" Rock began, but was quickly interrupted by Quell.

"My lord, please don't be offended. According to the records, Rock is a peasant. He has no noble household to represent."

"A peasant?" William stared into Rock’s eyes. "Since when do we allow peasants into the army?"

"It was Dawson, my lord. He issued the approval," Quell explained.

The tension in the air was palpable.

"Quell," William said.

"Yes, my lord," Quell replied nervously.

"You said you're strong enough to protect me."

"Yes, my lord."

"Good. Show me your strength."

"Of course, my lord. I'll fetch some wooden swords—"

"Why wooden swords?" William asked, smiling darkly.

Quell froze. "My lord, I wouldn’t want you to use the sword gifted by the king on me."

"Who said anything about me?" William asked.

Quell blinked. "Then who?"

William turned and looked directly at Rock.

The two men exchanged confused glances.

"This will be a simple demonstration of strength. In simple terms, I want a fight to the death. The victor is to bring me the other man’s head," William declared coldly.

A hush fell over the field.

Quell rushed to object. "My lord, surely you've misspoken. A fight to the death? One of us must die?"

"Quell Timid," William replied, eyes icy, "if you're to serve under me, remember this: I don’t make mistakes."

He walked back to the carriage and called to a nearby guard. "Bring me the large black sack from my personal items—loaded this morning."

Two soldiers struggled to carry the heavy sack and carefully placed it inside the carriage.

"Good. Now make sure it’s a fair fight. Quell is not to use any tricks," William instructed his guards.

The guards saluted and left.

As soon as they did, William said quietly, "You can come out now."

The black sack rustled. A hand emerged, then a head, and finally an entire person.

Edwin!

Drenched in sweat and gasping, Edwin wheezed, "Water!"

"Told you it’d be hot in there," William said, handing him a glass.

Edwin drained it in seconds, then pressed his face against the carriage window. "Is this really the outside? I can’t see with all these soldiers. When can I go out?"

"Not until we leave the capital," William replied.

"And when is that?"

Before William could answer—

Knock knock!

"Right about now," William grinned. "Come in!"

The door creaked open. First came a hand—holding a severed head. Then the man himself appeared.

Rock stepped inside, blood-soaked, holding Quell’s head by the hair. Blood dripped steadily onto the carriage floor.