A Bump in the Road

A murmur of excitement ran through the crowd as a series of guards began to back them away, forming an open space in the street. One of them, wearing a green crest on his helmet, stood slightly apart with arms folded, glaring at the both of them through a lidded half-helm. It was all happening too quickly, too smoothly for Lucius’ liking,

“Dueling huh?” He spoke aloud, addressing his smug opponent, “I had thought such an archaic practice had died out years ago.”

“Fallen out of favor, yes, but not forgotten.” Salerius smiled with an unusually bright glimmer in his eyes, “While most people are content to dither their way through lengthy court trials, I prefer to handle small matters such as this in a more…personable manner. The gods favor the just, after all. What better way to determine who has the approval of the gods? No worthwhile judge would question a ruling from on high, understand?”

Lucius wrinkled his nose with dissatisfaction, he was starting to get a clearer picture as to who Salerius really was, and he didn’t like what he was seeing. But there was no backing out now as he had already made his commitment. This suspicious noble knew where Hana was, and likely had done something to her. That was more than enough to warrant a serious ass-kicking.

There was just one, tiny problem that Lucius had so far been conveniently forgetting.

“Oh my! I hadn’t even realized it until now, but my dear opponent here doesn’t have an adequate weapon! What gall, to accept a challenge without means to perform!”

A chill ran down Lucius’ spine, “He’s right! Using just a dagger to challenge a rapier is stupid at best and suicidal at worst!” Much to his chagrin and embarrassment, his opponent had seemingly planned for such an occurrence,

“How unfortunate! But fear not, I am both generous and magnanimous to my opponents. Gaz, my good man! Would you mind loaning your weapon to our friend here?”

The stocky man made a show of agreeing with his lord, “Sure thing Boss, just try not to dent it too much! Hah!” He then drew from his waist a heavy falchion, which Lucius immediately knew was bad news. The weapon was ugly and pitch-black, giving it the appearance of a hunk of iron that had been screwed on to a dirty leather haft. Rust coiled up its length and he noticed several nicks and dents along its length. Gaz stalked over and thrust the weapon into his hands, a strong odor washing over Lucius that nearly caused him to gag.

“It feels worse than it looks. Who crafted this thing?! A one-armed, one-eyed dwarf could do better with their last arm tied behind their back!” It was indeed a nightmare of a weapon; poorly balanced with its weight entirely on the tip, a grip that was much too long and a counterbalance that was far too light. If it wasn’t for the vaguely curved shape of the blade and the existence of a handle, Lucius would have had a hard time knowing that it was a weapon at all. He was starting to wonder if using the dagger would’ve been a better choice, but there was little he could do about it now.

The guard in green suddenly called out, “This contest will last until one of these conditions are met: First! A combatant is disarmed or otherwise rendered incapable of continuing! Second! A combatant willfully surrenders and withdraws! Third! Any blow that draws blood shall immediately end the contest and he who struck the blow shall be victorious. There shall be no lethal strikes from either combatant! Should either make such an attempt, they shall be immediately disqualified and placed under civil arrest. Do I make myself clear?”

When Lucius answered in the affirmative, he couldn’t help but notice that the guard was mostly looking at Salerius when he was reciting the rules. He shook his head and took up the mockery of a falchion as best as possible, what he needed to do now was figure out a strategy. Thankfully, he had a good combat tutor, and those were his favorite lessons.

“Rule one: Always take initiative! Doesn’t matter if its dancing or dueling, always be the first to move!”

Lucius fell into Earthform, a stance that focuses a person’s energy towards defense that could then be turned into powerful counterattacks. Keeping the mistake of a weapon low to avoid tiring his arms, Lucius leaned forward to feign aggression, hoping it would give his opponent pause. Salerius raised an eyebrow in surprise,

“Well, well, it would seem that you have a bit of training in you. Let’s see what you’ve got then, boy.”

With exaggerated grace, the older man adopted Windform, expressing a focus on speed and accuracy but lacking in power. It was a style perfectly suited for an unarmored duel, and it posed a problem for Lucius. Unwilling to hesitate any further, he took a step forward, signaling that the duel had begun.

Salerius rushed him, closing the gap in four steps to thrust the rapier at his chest. It was a simple matter to step out of the way, though Lucius could tell that this was its intention. Salerius drew back and tried again, equally unsuccessful in his second attempt. Sensing an opportunity, Lucius planted himself firm and heaved the blade upward at a diagonal. It was a powerful strike that could have easily split his opponent from hip to shoulder, but Salerius was quicker than he expected. A simple flick of the wrist sent the rapier’s edge tapping against his own weighty blade, effectively sending it careening far off course. Lucius clicked his tongue in frustration, there was no denying that his opponent had some skill.

His blade swishing idly through the air, Salerius began to circulate around Lucius, his steps carrying him with a lightness that was impossible to replicate while carrying such a heavy weight. Salerius feinted with a low strike towards the knees, only to have the deadly point flick upwards towards Lucius’ chin at the last moment. It took considerable strength to heave the falchion up in time to defend himself, and he knew that continuing in this manner would exhaust him far sooner than his opponent.

Lucius had to make a move, now. Thankfully, Lucius knew what his opponent was up to,

“He’s just going through the basic forms, like he’s performing straight from a manual. If that’s the case…then I bet he’s going to try for a disarm next!”

Sure enough, Salerius moved as Lucius had anticipated; weapon pulled back as if for a long thrust while shifting his body weight towards his back leg, eyes darting straight towards Lucius’ wrists. Lucius could easily envision the path his opponent would take: the first would be to draw Lucius into a costly defense which would raise his arms, the momentum of the weapon would force an opening and the second step would be to flick the rapier upwards at a shallow angle and cut his wrists, thereby forcing him to drop his sword. Game, set, match.

As if Lucius was going to allow such a thing to happen. The lunge came just as he predicted, but instead of committing to the defense, he only partially raised his sword at an odd angle. When the rapier struck his blade, it was harshly deflected to the side and it was Salerius who was instead drawn off balance by his own momentum. He stumbled forward, directly into Lucius’ range, where he promptly punched the haughty noble square in the jaw.

A satisfactory grin spread over his face as he felt his fist collide with his target, the sound of flesh crunching into bone echoing through the street. The watching crowd exulted at the sudden blow, and Lucius used it as motivation to finish the fight for good. All that needed to be done was to recover his stance and force his opponent into a state of surrender, a largely trivial affair if not one slowed by his unwieldy tool. But at last, he felt confident and in control of the situation.

The sudden blinding light from his right caught him off guard. Appearing from nowhere and with an unusually strong intensity, Lucius was immediately rendered helpless. He staggered backwards, a hand flinging upwards to try to ward off the light, but it was to little avail. Though it hindered him for only a few moments, those critical seconds were all that Salerius needed to turn the tables.

Lucius felt his feet get swept out from underneath him, sending him crashing to the ground and knocking the wind from his lungs. Grunting in pain and anger, he attempted to sit up while blinking stars from his eyes, only to have a boot planted on his chest and press him further into the dust. Salerius glared down at him, any former semblance of playful mirth had vanished to be replaced by a sneer of derisive anger. The point of the rapier hovered dangerously close to Lucius’ jugular, and a few of the spectators audibly groaned.

The duel was over, and Lucius had lost.

He let go of the falchion and forced out the words, “I concede.” The words tasted like ash, but he had no choice. He was not such a fool that he would attempt to continue in such a compromised position, and he forced down the churning shame and frustration that threatened to spill over into something truly reckless.

Much to the shock of everyone, Lucius included, Salerius did not immediately withdraw but instead traced his sword up Lucius’ face, resting the cold tip underneath his cheekbone. With a twist, he broke flesh and drew blood, carving a small but noticeable curve through Lucius’ face. Hot pain lanced through his body, though he dared not cry out lest he show weakness towards his abuser. Murmurs of indignation ran coursed through those who remained to watch and the guard in the green crest stepped forward, anger coloring his previously calm demeanor,

“Salerius! That is far enough! To strike at a foe who has surrendered is the height of dishonorable conduct! If you continue this path, then I will be forced to intercede! Even the governor’s son has his limits.”

“Tsk. Fine then. We’ll call it done there.” Salerius pushed off Lucius’ chest but still held him with an ominous stare, “Consider that a warning, little man. Nobody strikes Caius Salerius Dominis and lives long enough to regret it. I’ll give you some friendly advice, leave the city today. Never think about returning here ever again. Oh, and you should forget about that friend of yours too. You’ll never see her again.”

He turned and stalked off down the road, his cronies following behind without a backwards glance. Gaz didn’t even retrieve the weapon that he had “loaned” to Lucius, as if he needed further reminding about the blade’s garbage quality. The soldier who had spoken up knelt beside Lucius and offered a hand,

“Are you alright, son?” Lucius accepted the hand and was pulled to his feet, though he was only dimly aware of doing so. The guard was still speaking, Lucius heard him as if he were underwater, so loud was the roar of blood in his ears,

“That cut doesn’t look too bad, but you should still get it checked out to prevent an infection. Dunno what caused you to ran afoul of our dear Salerius, but you shouldn’t worry too much about him. He’ll forget about you real soon, just like he always does. Just keep your head down lad, you’ll be just fine.”

Lucius nodded absentmindedly, his heart burning with rage and indignation. Salerius had cheated him out of a victory, of that he was certain. He wasn’t sure exactly how he had accomplished the deed, but that hardly mattered at this point. His fiery gaze never left Salerius’ back, even after the man had disappeared into the crowd.

Diplomacy had failed. It was time for Lucius to take more a more direct approach. There was no time for moping or bemoaning his failure, there was much work to be done. Righteous purpose burned through his bones, urging him to take immediate action.

“Hold on Hana. I’m coming to get you!”