Chapter 27 - Sol Vs Luna

On the outskirts of the palace grounds, amidst the brush and bramble, Prince Sol was hiding. He was still only a small thing, though large for his age at only 12 years old. Despite his small stature, he was toned and muscular. His build implied a significant might, but still he cowered away.

He was being pursued by a beast so unimaginably awful that even with all the power his body contained, he dared not face it. A beast so great, he had lost almost every battle he had fought against it to this point. He had been beaten, bruised, scratched, scraped and thoroughly defeated, over and over again. He was sure that if he attempted to resist, he would once again suffer the same kind of defeat. The best option was not to battle at all.

This was not a fight that could be avoided, however. It was an inevitable daily occurrence. Each afternoon after the palace maids cooked him his lunch, he was set upon by this monster and pursued until he eventually relented. Thus far no hiding nor running had sufficed and it was unlikely it would today either. Surrender wasn’t even an option, for the creature was wily enough to refuse any such requests. It sought an honourable battle, it would not accept an unearned victory.

As was inevitable, the beast was shortly upon him. With a sigh, he knew his time had come. He braced his body, steeled his nerves and took one last heavy breath…

When he emerged from the bushes, he was greeted by his enemy. Dirt-soaked with piercing blue eyes, scruffy blonde hair tied in the remnants of what were once neatly made twintails, too-loose boys clothing draped over a slim girlish form. This was the monster that was relentlessly pursuing him. His twin sister, Luna.

“You’ve got to stop hiding like that! You know the maids can do a spell that tracks you down!” She chided, already bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“That’s not fair, you can’t just ask them to find me! Do it yourself!” Sol frowned, defeatedly loosening up his limbs, ready for the upcoming battle.

“Yes I can! You’re the one being unfair, you’re a prince! You should be bravely facing all challengers who come your way!” Luna replied, shaking her body loose.

“You’re a princess! You shouldn’t be fighting people in the first place!” Sol complained as he had a thousand times, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I’m on a win streak! I can’t stop now!” Luna grinned. “What was it… 29 wins in a row?”

“I don’t know, you’re the one who keeps count.” Sol sighed, already wanting his 36th loss to be over with.

“35 wins for me, 14 losses.” She recalled astutely. “Which means today’s bout is a big deal! This is our 50th duel! Not to mention, if I win, I’ll be on a 30 win streak! A new record!”

“29 was also a new record…” Sol groaned. “Yesterday.”

“Yes, but 30 is a round number. It feels more important!” Luna beamed.

“Can we get this over with?” Sol went into his loosely into a stance, hoping it would be enough to appease Luna.

“Not like that, we can't! Come on, take this seriously. This is good practice for you too!” Luna urged, hands on her hips.

Sol smirked. A grave mistake. If he hadn’t, it was likely his dirty trick would have landed. He tensed up in an instant, the fibres of his muscles tensing fast and thorough, power concentrating in his arm rapidly. He fired a jab straight at Luna’s chest.

She dodged with ease. The second she saw his mouth twitch, she stepped back and left his fist to strike only air. Even when it didn’t land, his attack was nothing to scoff at. The air around his closed hand came whooshing toward her. It wasn’t enough to cause any harm or pushback, but it was enough to be felt.

Luna didn’t even think to chide him for his shameful sneak attack. Her mind was elsewhere, somewhere far more exciting than sibling squabbling or royal protocol, the realm of battle.

Following a straight punch, Sol had a few set follow-ups that Luna had grown used to seeing; There were six, though only four when he struck with his right hand, as he had now: 1. He would step through, using the momentum to deliver a follow-up with his left hand. 2. He would aim for an uppercut, hoping Luna’s focus would be on his right arm and allow him to strike from a blind spot. 3. A feint. He’d fake a swing with his left, only to strike once more with his right. And 4. He would back off, accepting his failure and assessing the situation.

Of the four, he most commonly chose the first. The second was the most rewarding. The third was moreso used later in their duels, a mix-up once Luna had adjusted to his other options. And the fourth was the safest.

Luna had grown so used to his usual actions that she had well-rehearsed responses to each, it was certain she could punish him if she guessed correctly, so she figured Sol would know better than to risk it and engage further after such a predictable lead. Option 4 made the most sense.

Luna confidently made her call. She boldly moved forward, already acting to close the distance and grab Sol, right arm outstretched to grab him by the collar.

…Unfortunately, no matter how confident she was, she was still making a guess. She couldn’t see the future. She stepped right into option 1, a left-handed punch, meeting it halfway as Sol’s left fist collided with her right shoulder. This unintended interaction went a long way to lessen the potential damage. Even with his non-dominant hand, Sol’s strength was absurd, easily knocking her back a step with just a glancing blow. Unlike his sister, who often predicted and pre-empted, Sol was reactive, and he refused to leave this opportunity unexploited. He stepped through for a cross with his right.

His fist tore through the air, all the power of rounded shoulders and bulging biceps powering the swing. In all of his previous victories, he had won in only two or three attacks like this, sometimes even one. Luna wasn’t frail by any means, but she didn’t inherit their father’s strength and resilience the way her brother did, she simply had no chance of matching him physically. To make up for this, she’d have to not only match, but exceed his physical power with her mental abilities.

She had seen this pattern before, not in the same circumstance, but the separate parts. It was around two months ago, early in their battles, she had misplaced a high kick to the head and been parried by a thrust from his right arm. As she was reeling, he stepped through and struck with his left hand. Of course this time the directions were different, and this time she had much more stable footing, but the principle was the same: He was pulling back from one attack and transitioning into another.

One arm moved accompanied by a step with the corresponding leg, then after, he’d spin his hips, and rotate the foot he had just stepped with to generate force for his cross. This movement left her an opening, there was momentum she could exploit, and with his right leg so close to her, it would only take a small action of her own to totally halt Sol’s attack.

As his fist approached, Luna swept her foot behind his planted one, lying in wait as his ankle began to turn, initiating his movement. She’d have an incredibly short window to act, Sol’s fist like a cannonball ripping through the air toward her. In addition to everything else, he was faster too, she could never hope to move her entire body and dodge, all she could afford was one little movement… A quick pull of her foot.

As he rotated his foot, she snagged his ankle with the flat of her own. A tiny motion, but enough to throw off the movement he was already making. With just a bit of force, he was totally thrown off balance. Before he knew it, he was falling to the ground, arm uselessly cleaving the air and missing Luna entirely.

When Sol caught up to what was happening, his sister was already standing over him, her fingers outstretched against his throat. Another fight lost. He sighed, nodding in acceptance of his 36th loss.

Luna beamed, hopping up and down with excitement. “Yes! That’s 30 in a row!”, she bounced from foot to foot, twirling with joy.

“Yeah, yeah. Good job.” Sol sighed, looking away to conceal a smile of his own. He did like seeing his sister so happy, even if it was because he lost.

“Luna Dragoneart!” a voice boomed authoritatively, snapping both siblings to attention. Sol scrambled to his feet as Luna turned to face the source of the scolding. Their sister, Stella.

“A-aren’t you gonna yell at Sol too?” Luna sighed, head low as she waited for her older sister to approach.

“Sol doesn’t go around picking fights!” She scolded, now towering over the smaller girl.

Luna looked up, taking in Stella’s imposing figure. In reality, she would only ever be viewed as imposing by a child. There were countless other things that would strike a more aged observer first. She was stunning, shining as bright as her name indicated. Her hair was molten platinum shaped into a braid across her head and shimmering down to her shoulders. Her features were soft, but sharp in all the right places, an indication of her mixed human-elf heritage. She was tall, but not broad, a slender figure, like the queen piece in chess. Her pale skin contrasted against a somehow even paler dress, the purest white that could ever be woven, framing her form into something ethereal and beautiful, like fog had taken the shape of a woman. The only feature that didn’t fall into this formless, graceful beauty were her eyes. Green. A deep emerald green, like a never-ending forest that lured you in and never allowed you to escape.

Stella Dragoneart was perhaps the most beautiful woman in Gallia. Not in the sense of attractiveness, but in the same way a fine sculpture or piece of art is beautiful. It was like she had been crafted by the gods as an example of absolute perfection.

But to Luna, she was just her annoying big sister.

Current Party: N/A

Bullets Remaining: N/A