The Cynic and the Idealist

For a one-armed elf, Renthorn was more than holding his own against Lavender.

Renthorn was projecting a metal sliver glowing a purple-pink glow from the point of the finger of his false hand. That pseudo-sword was able to hold up against the pillar of hardened earth Lavender had put up around her own.

“Lot of big talk from you,” Renthorn taunted. “But look who comes crawling out here for money like the rest of us!” The aura around Renthorn’s sliver melted through the earthen around Lavender’s sword and struck the metal itself.

Lavender pulled her sword back and threw an elbow into Renthorn’s chestplate hard enough to dent it. “You have all this power and you’re worried about gold?” She flipped around her sword and almost struck him in the head with the pommel.

Renthorn backed away from the pommel strike and brought the point of his arm’s pseudo-sword into Lavender’s armor. Lavender had no time to get out of the way before his denial spell went off, disrupting the yearning spell that had created her armor and leaving her wearing only the quilted gambeson she’d been wearing underneath, along with her own gauntlets and trousers.

“Spoken like someone whose daddy made sure they never had to pay for their time at magic academy!” He kept bringing his pseudo-sword down and down and down into Lavender’s high block. “How else could you be this naïve?!”

Lavender was starting to sink into the icy mix of molasses and soggy earth, able to do little else but keep blocking. “We have the power to help these people, Renthorn! That gives us the responsibility to do it!”

The next strike Renthorn brought down broke through Lavender’s sword, her gambeson catching fire from the heat the pseudo-sword gave off. She pulled on it over and over, ripping the jacket off to reveal her skin and a plain bra. But in her efforts to take off the flaming gambeson, she didn’t notice that her hands were now bare.

“Looking for these?” Renthorn held Lavender’s gauntlets with his good hand. Then he struck her across the face with them before tossing them to the far end of the field. “Look at you. Helpless.”

Lavender felt her hands shake. Every muscle that she’d worked to build for years quivered in shame as the thousands in attendance saw her bare skin. Wolf-whistles and joyful cries echoed from the men.

“I think you’re giving them all the help they want,” Renthorn grinned. “Lesson’s over.” His pseudo-sword came up for a rising slash, accompanied with an air projection spell that sent Lavender flying into the air.

The angle of that launch was more for height than distance however. Lavender kept going up and up and up. It was clear whoever had cast the spell for the barrier defining when a contestant left the field had not considered a limitation on distance from the ground itself.

Lavender had to close her eyes lest fear overtake her. She remembered what happened the last time she took a fall from this height. And knew if she opened them, that’s all she would think about as she fell back to the ground.

The magical energy. She could still sense it below her. Renthorn’s psudo-sword and arm now pointing at her from below, preparing another spell for when she got back in range to finish blasting her off the grounds. It was crystal aspect.

She needed to concentrate. She needed a spell that counter whatever crystal spell he was preparing.

------

A younger Lavender picked herself off the ground, wiping a bit of blood from the corner of her mouth. She stumbled over to a little endtable littered with scrolls detailing martial arts techniques from across the sea.

Standing with his arms crossed was Balerifon. He was wearing a ratty linen shirt that rode up on his body, revealing his smooth stomach without a single hair on it. “Why did you lose, whelp?”

“Because you’re stronger than me.” Lavender was rustling through the scrolls, trying to see if there were any secret dragon-killing techniques. There weren’t. “Because you’re a dragon.”

Balerifon’s eyes narrowed. “I am stronger, yes. But being a dragon has nothing to do with it.”

Lavender shrugged. She hated it when he asked questions like this. “Because…” She started throwing out answers. “Fate. Destiny. The stars. I’m not supposed to beat you. Like how I’m supposed to stay here until my true love comes.”

“Do not talk to me of ‘destiny’.” Balerifon’s voice rumbled with displeasure. “Those are the words of men unwilling to accept responsibility. Do you think the heroes of old succeeded because the stars willed it? Because they believed that things were ‘Meant to Be’? Almost everything that separates a man from a hero is hard work, guts, their conviction in what they believe in, their will! That is why you lost, whelp! Because you haven’t put the work in.”

That’s what happened when she didn’t give him the answer he was looking for. One word he said struck her strange. “‘Almost’? What’s the other part?”

One of Balerifon’s fingers lightly tapped on the back of his hand. “Opportunity.”

----

Lavender twirled herself through the air. Up here there was nothing but the warmth of the sun and the cold of the wind. The pull of gravity had finally overwhelmed Renthorn’s spell and she was ready to fall back to the ground.

Her arms spread out from end to end. The light of the sun was extinguished in an instant and the coolness of clouds sprang up around her. Electricity danced around her fingers, up her forearms and biceps, and around her entire body. Even with her eyes closed, Lavender could see the flash of lightning and hear the boom of thunder.

Perfect. Lightning was the natural counter to the crystal aspect. When two secondary aspects clash, it’s the second aspect that grants advantage.

Lavender extended her leg out and waited for Renthorn’s magical energy to crescendo. And when it peaked –

“INAZUMAAAAAA!”

A flash of lightning struck Lavender at the base of her neck. Her body began to finally crash down from the sky in the boom of the thunder. A hint of purple light flashed in her shut eyes – Renthorn had fired his spell.

She angled her foot just so it would blunt the spell’s impact. It wasn’t necessary, the power she was bringing to bear was more than enough. But that was no excuse for sloppy technique.

“KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!”

She screamed at the top of her lungs all the way down. Her foot slammed through Renthorn’s crystal projection spell like a knife through melting butter. It offered no resistance. The moment Lavender opened her eyes, she saw that foot smashing into Renthorn’s jaw. The sheer force, the crash of thunder, the everything of it sent Renthorn skipping across the jousting field. His limbs tumbled like flags with each one as he went through that blue barrier and came to a stop somewhere outside the arena.

Lavender was vaguely aware that the announcer was saying something and the crowd was cheering. But the adrenaline and the pounding in her ears wouldn’t let her understand it. She threw her arms into the air and cheered. She thumped her upper chest in triumph and slid onto her knees.

----

Did… did she just win?

Dora stared at the half-naked woman celebrating on the field. She didn’t know when she had risen from her chair. Or when Vallois had. He looked just as shocked as she.

Did she just win?!

She’d gone to such lengths in years past to avoid this. Hiring people to take a dive, poisoning her chosen’s meal, letting the prospect of failing to win her hand overwhelm them! The Black Rose was not some prize to be won!

Dora averted her eyes from how every muscle in Lavender’s back moved when she waved her arms around. This idiot, this moron who thought teaching a peasant magic was a good idea? The one who’d pulled one of the greatest lightning projection spells out of thin air?

She knew the terms of the oath she had sworn to her parents. Freedom to venture out in the world until they found a suitable match – on terms that Dora had named years ago: a chosen champion who could win a Princess Knight Brawl.

Her eyes locked onto Lavender again.

She knew the terms, but… That was what she’d sworn to marry?