Dancing Fire

“Make way! The prince has arrived!”

Having tied Sleipnir near a makeshift stable, people made way for Wilhelm and Camilla as they walked towards the makeshift stage near the center of the camp. He walked straight-backed and regally as the people bowed respectfully in his passing. Though most were humans, there were a considerable number of orcs, some elves, and the occasional drow, dwarf and centaur.

Camilla continued wearing her neutral expression as she played her part as one of the prince’s retainers. She could see on their smiling faces that they were genuinely grateful for their king’s presence. It was only natural, their prince was one of the few nobles who still worship Synthara, and one of the fewer who would come to their aid. He was a reminder that their old faith still retained strength. Being led around in a camp of heathens that would see her beaten to death if they knew who she was discomforted her but least she can use this opportunity to gather information. For some reason though, she felt as if Wilhelm was not the sort of man to needlessly make a person’s death painful.

They reached the stage and without a gesture, the people silenced themselves, eagerly waiting to hear the prince’s words. Mages near the back used spells to project Wilhelm’s voice to those far from the stage.

“Syntharans, I welcome you all to our annual Blót!” Wilhelm said loudly and with no small amount of joy. He paused as the people applauded his proclamation, slightly wincing from the volume of the crowd. Enhancing his ears was great for sensing assassins but terrible for being among crowds. He lessened the necromantic energy going into his ears to make the sounds of the crowd less sharp. Blót was one of the times where his resting sneer would vanish entirely, his face almost untwisting itself from a gnarled tree to a zealous and youthful young man.

Wilhelm raised his hand, signalling the people to be silent. “It pains me to start off the night with tragic news, but our Goði, Morgan, was killed by the Ultimatum’s agents." Like a cavalry charge, he thundered onward in his speech, allowing his momentum to crush any murmuring amongst the crowd.

“I know it is grave news, but this will not shake us. For two centuries we are hounded and persecuted for our loyalty to the old ways, to the very deity that created this Kingdom! That deity would not want us to mourn for her loss, for she died fighting against foreign oppressors. I know Morgan is watching over us now from the halls of Valhalla. What reason do we have to mourn? No matter what the enemy throws at us, we die knowing that our souls will only add to our goddess’ army! When the warhorns are blown for the final battle, we will be the heralds of divine justice as our oppressors cower in fear. Let us honor Morgan’s sacrifice tonight with our own sacrifices, our passions, and our very joy itself! Now, make merriment Syntharans, let tonight’s Blót begin!” Wilhelm said glowing with pride. The people cheered as they quickly began downing their tankards of ale and went back to the festivities with more fervor than before. They danced, held magic shows with live magic, sang songs, painted, even had a few cookouts over the various fires throughout the field and much more. Every attendee dedicated themselves to Synthara in some way shape or form in their own way.

Wilhelm turned back to Camilla. “Let’s go get a drink.” As they began to walk down the stage and into the crowd, Camilla spoke bitterly.

“Why are you doing this to me? Is this supposed to be a form of mockery?”

“No, I am proving a point.”

“What point?”

Wilhelm reached one of the wine barrels and turned the spigot to pour himself and Camilla a tankard of wine. He held out for her a cup.

“Enjoy yourself.” Camilla opened her mouth to speak but Wilhelm spoke first. “I may have coerced you into attending this festival, however you need not deny yourself its pleasures.”

Camilla turned away. “The Ultimatum demands chastity, I will not taint myself by partaking in a pagan festival.”

Wilhelm pulled the cup away. “I did not think the Ultimatum’s strongest followers would be so fragile as to have a single cup of wine corrupt their faith, but very well.” Wilhelm turned away from Camilla and began to walk away.

“Enjoy the festival however you see fit.” Wilhelm walked off into the crowd.

Camilla watched him walk away, even with the threat of her heart being skewered, it was still incredibly reckless to let an assassin wander freely. Either he must have someone watching her or he thinks that little of her abilities.

Camilla walked around the festival, searching for any sign of someone following her. No matter how hard she strained her senses, no one in particular was watching her aside from the guard patrols who were more busy in breaking up drunken brawls and ensuring no one was hurt.

What she did notice was that the festival was unlike any she had experienced in Ougon. There were few holidays in the Cult of the Ultimatum, but the few there were were solemn affairs where either people displayed the strength of their virtues or doggedly purged their imperfections. They were competitions where only those who achieved 1st place got any sort of prize or glory. Sometimes not even they would get a prize if their performance was deemed insufficient.

Here, there was no such intense competition. There were some contests, but there was no backstabbing, cheating, or even animosity among the participants. Rather they just enjoyed the games themselves. Even children could partake as clumsy as they were.

There was a fire dancing performance with a tall-red haired woman and another man involving double bladed staves with both blades at the ends lit with magical flame in a circle marked by rocks. They twirled them about as if they were in a duel, but with movements meant to entertain rather than kill. The blades can also split into two individual swords, they split and combine multiple times in the performance. It was a Syntharan tradition that was supposed to have been stamped out by the inquisition centuries ago due to it supposedly allowing you to hear the voice of the demon goddess. Even just having a replica of the weapon is grounds for execution. Camilla was told it was a barbaric bloodsport where warriors would kill and consume each other as they slowly became possessed by their demon goddess.

“Elddans, it is a tradition formed by the Orcs to show off their strength. Then, with the conversion of Warchief Uzul, it was adopted into the Syntharan faith as a method of hearing the voice of the goddess herself.” Wilhelm appeared behind Camilla tankard in hand.

“Many seasoned warriors struggle to finish even a basic routine of this dance. It pushes a warrior’s physical and mental prowess to its very limits. The blade’s sharpness is such that it puts you on the edge of life and death, knowing that even a slight mistake can result in fatal injury to yourself and those around you.”

“It’s reckless, the Ultimatum disapproves of risking one’s life recklessly.”

“Yet, if one was demanded to reach perfection, risk is required? Otherwise you will always feel lacking. Battle itself is more than just slaying your enemy, it is also a conversation. What weapon you use, how you wield it, where and when you choose to strike or not, it all conveys one’s thoughts and feelings. Elddans attempts to use this method of conversing into story telling.”

Camilla looked on at the duel. As it continued the movements and strikes were beginning to form a coherent narrative to her. The red-haired woman was using complicated and flashy dodges and attacks, as if she were trying to impress someone. The other man was more reserved, his defenses unyielding and his counterattacks precise, yet he was clearly growing old as the woman danced around him. Eventually the man faltered and the red-haired woman’s blades were crossed at his neck. The audience cheered at the spectacle.

Wilhelm glanced at Camilla trying to suppress a smile. As he did, the red-haired woman approached him smiling covered in sweat and clad in barely more than a short skirt and tight wrapping around her breasts. She rested her arms on the extinguished bladed staff she rested on her shoulders

“Hey Will! I was beginning to think you wouldn't show at all. What took you?”

“Titania, please refer to me as Wilhelm, I am still your prince.”

Titania sighed dramatically. “That stick up your arse is never gonna leave isn't it?” Titania glanced at Camilla looking pensive. “Who’s this chick?”

“This is Camilla, one of my new retainers.” Wilhelm said.

Titania looked her up and down suspiciously. “Ive never seen her before…” Titania trailed off as she glanced off somewhere else. A look of recognition briefly flashed in her eyes.

“Well, Willy here has a tendency to attract weirdos anyway so I guess you’ll fit in fine.” Titania looked back at Wilhelm. “You up for a round? I've always had more fun fighting you than the old geezers.”

Wilhelm smiled, “It would be my pleasure.”

The crowd cheered as the two warriors walked up to the center of the circle with 30 ft in between each other. After Wilhelm took the bladed staff from the older warrior, he cast off his cloak and shirt, revealing his lean and well cut physique, causing much of the women in the crowd to overwhelm the other cheers with theirs. They then ignited their blades, the orange glow from them almost blinding.

As the announcer marked the beginning of the duel, the two fighters wasted no time in charging towards each other. Both attempted to end the duel with the first strike, aiming for each other’s necks only for their blades to collide with a loud ring. Titania disconnected her back blade with her right hand and made a reverse gripped upwards slash. Wilhelm in one smooth motion side stepped to the right, allowing the first blade to slide off his and bringing his reverse blade forward by turning his body left. Titania brought her left blade back up to block Wilhelm’s strike and brought her right blade down in a reverse gripped stab. Wilhelm leaned his body left to dodge the stab while disconnecting his left blade to attack Titania’s exposed stomach.

This brutal exchange lasted for only a few seconds and yet it left the audience holding their breath. Letting out a cheer when they both disengaged, breathing heavily and smiling brightly. Camilla had never seen Wilhelm smile this much until now. She found her own heart racing and her lips pointing upward at the sight. Both had put their unyielding nature on display.

The duel continued on, Titania repeatedly attempted to close the distance between her and Wilhelm yet he always rebuffed her with elegant parries, pirouettes, and sidesteps. He almost never blocks her head on but rather would use her own movements and his shorter size to his advantage, aiming where she was exposed. Titania would quickly defend herself but she’s forced to pause her advance and expend energy jerking her blade around to block.

To Camilla, the world fell away until there was only Wilhelm and Titania. This was not a duel to the death, but rather a story without words. Camilla knew Titania as one of Wilhelm’s retainers since childhood and his bodyguard. Titania speaks of wild, brutal chaos, it's clear she was never formally trained. Rather, she was trained through pure instinct and battle experience. She fought more like an Orc Berzerker rather than a knight.

Wilhelm met her fury with unyielding strength, evading and parrying all of her attacks. When he does go on the offensive, it was precise, never moving more than necessary. He views fights as things to end as quickly and efficiently as possible. Yet it's clear he lacks the experience Titania has.

Despite their contrasting natures, they are not in conflict with each other. Rather it is as if two dancers moved in perfect sync with each other. They smiled even as they swung fiery blades dangerously close to each other. They were friends..

Or perhaps more? Camilla began to feel envy and fear well up in her heart.

As the performance reached its finale, Wilhelm and Titania heard a voice only they could hear.

“At moon’s peak, the enemy will appear near the temple, do not resist, lest you play your hand prematurely.”

With a resounding ring, their blades struck one another in the air as they somersaulted past each other and landed on the ground gracefully, their blades extinguishing themselves as they did. The crowd applauded and the night air was filled with the sound of clapping and cheering.

Wilhelm and Titania breathed heavily as they looked at each other, confirming that they both heard the same thing. But for this moment, they basked in the applause.