On the left was a young man– or boy perhaps. Approximately fifteen or sixteen years of age. To the right stood the captain of the third cataphract century, a man who goes by the name of Kalados.
Each chose to forego the donning of their full mail as it would make pointless work for the squires. Though, sir Artorius was not yet knighted and did not have any squires to attend him. Instead they each wore a chainmail vest and stepped into the ring with naught but their weapons. To proceed fairly, weapons were standard training swords and spears, two matches for both combatants to preserve honor and reputation. If one should lose with the sword, they may yet redeem themselves with the spear.
Not much was expected of the young Drakkennide boy. Although he was a part of a long and prestigious line of knights, youth was often reckless and weak. Many expected that sir Artorius had never even sparred a real adversary before– even if only in a challenge match.
On the other hand, sir Kalados had seen real combat during the northern war in Inbal just a year ago. Between the two, Kalados was surely favored.
As they drew and held swords at arms length crossed, Kalados uttered a thin sleight at Artorius in quiet.
"Pray your brother's mercy stops this duel– bastard. For otherwise I may just embarrass you here before a crowd."
Artorius' face bore no change. He merely let his blue eyes stare at the cocky knight.
Then, just as the referee was about to begin, Artorius lowered his blade.
"What is this! Losing your nerve boy?"
A round of jeers resounded. From the back, priestess Aia witnessed a box of coins being passed around. Soldiers would sometimes deposit a few coins inside before handing it off to the next person.
"Not so," replied Artorius, "I just thought that we might– well, raise the stakes a bit. After all, a knight's honor is his life. If we're willing to gamble that much over a mere sparring match, why not gamble a little more right? I say that the winner of this match shall have his next vigil covered for the day, what say you?"
A vigil was an official watch period that each of the officers cycled through each day to keep alert all day. One vigil was twelve hours– half of the day. So, having it covered by someone else– who also has their own vigil to serve, meant that person would effectively be kept awake for more than twenty-four hours.
Kalados chuckled to maintain bravado, yet the stiffness of his face betrayed keen observers that he was internally surprised by the young Drakkennide's proposal. Duels were quite a spectacle; those who undertake them are often defined by the spectacle. It is for the admiration of the crowds and the pleasure of seeing them jeer at the vanquished that makes men desire to duel. Honor– in the end, becomes reputation when a duel is called.
Though according to Yuvon– godfather of chivalry, honor's true value lies in the pursuit of endeavors greater than just oneself. But this is often interpreted flexibly by those who call themselves knights of the third age.
In any case, Artorius' offer presented a dilemma to Kalados. Should he refuse, then– if he later defeats Artorius, people will not think so highly as him. They would assume that he took the duel knowing it would be a safe duel with predictable consequences. But if he accepts the offer and loses, he would have to endure a hellish day surpassing twenty-four hours without sleep.
But Kalados would not back down so easily, "very well, since we're gambling so much today, why don't I throw in an extra ten silvers as well."
"Oh, just ten? I suppose I can toss in a hundred silvers."
Kalados frowned. Sir Artorius hit the cataphract where it hurt the most– unlike Drakkennide knights who were often born from noble veins, the cataphracts were bought as children and raised in martial tradition. They were a warrior caste.
For his services, Kalados made an exceptional wage– better than ninety percent of the commoners of Helios. But it's still nothing compared to the wealth of a duke's scion. His jealousy was as transparent to sir Artorius as the walls of the Glass Tower in the Ram kingdom.
The cataphract captain scoffed and said, "let's get on with things already."
"Then we have terms?"
"Yes, yes, now put up your sword."
Once the talks concluded a fresh wave of excitement passed over the crowd surrounding the ring. The box of coins was doubly stuffed now as more men tossed their bets into it.
Then, Artorius raised his sword and crossed it with Kalados, and the referee prepared to begin the duel proper.
At once when the referee's hand fell down, the sword of kalados rushed at Artorius' profile. A flick of the wrist parried the blow and darted towards Kalados with a thrust.
Kalados stepped back once and caught the thrust by the crossguard of Artorius' sword. The forceful connection tilted the thrust to the side just enough that a cock of the head could evade the strike.
At once the two fighters stepped back to acquire separation and distance. Kalados found himself slightly closer to the edge of the ring.
The cataphract clicked his tongue and flicked his sword, feeling the flex of the steel and testing its rigidity.
"Brittle piece of–"
Artorius closed the gap between them.
A series of clangs and a ring through the wrists of both combatants left their dominant hands numb. Kalados threw his gloved fist towards Artorius. The strike grazed the blue-eyed Drakkennide's cheek as it passed. A blow to the chin stunned Kalados, followed by a kick to the solar plexus– knocking the wind out of him.
Soldiers chimed in and heckled from beyond the ring.
"Hey now, hey now! You were so confident sir Kalados! What happened to push you to the edge of the ring?"
"Shut up!"
The cataphract got his bearings and then took back into the fray again. Sir Artorius was sturdy and took the blows with ease, redirecting the force of the older knight into open air gracefully.
More comments from the gallery of watchers came as the fight proceeded.
"That Drakkennide chap, what sort of manner of battle is that? He swings his sword unlike any knight I know. Is this some sort of exclusive Drakkennide art?"
"Not that I've ever seen, if anything, it seems as if it was built for a more agile creature than man. It's almost uncanny how the Drakkennide boy moves."
Artorius would've handled Kalados' barrage unabated though if not for a subtle distraction that caught his gaze.
In the midst of their iron dance of razors, a small dragonfly– paler than snow, fluttered betwixt their swords. Those blades clashed with strength enough to draw sparks. But the little creature had drawn Artorius' gaze away from the melee. The might of Kalados' strike pushed sir Artorius back three paces.
A rogue spark struck the white dragonfly and set it aflame. But oddly, it did not burn away. The fires struck, blazed, then doused at once, and then the dragonfly flew on to the walls of the keep.
But small as the creature was– and vigorous as proceeded the fight in the ring, the strange dragonfly was missed by the greater crowd. The Drakkennide spare had no time to consider the mystery however, for Kalados attacked once more unrelenting.
The older cataphract had vim and fury in his strikes, incited by the crowd to emit the presence of strength before his junior. But this was all foreseen by sir Artorius. As the young scion was driven to the very edge of the ring he anticipated Kalados' downward slash– and stepped into the cataphract's space. With a shift of his weight and timely parry, sir Artorius moved the swing naturally out of the ring and jabbed into the cataphract's midsection with his free hand.
The crowd, nearly struck by Kalados' blade, began to jeer and mock him ruthlessly.
"Kalados! How does an imbecile like you end up a cataphract!"
"No wonder his parents sold him to the empire! An oaf that can't but swing a sword properly is useless!"
"I knew I should've put my last copper on the boy!"
Kalados clenched his jaw to hold in his rebukes. But he sharpened his glare upon the young noble that had now circled behind him.
Another rain of attacks was sent to unbalance the Drakkennide spare. But it was Kalados whose posture was broken. After many consecutive and powerful strikes, Kalados was beginning to feel the exhaustion in the smaller muscles of his form. The powerful bells and biceps kept swinging until sir Artorius' hand was twitching and a speckle of blisters and welts began to form. But the cataphract's agility had greatly decreased.
The noble scion evaded several blows and darted into tight and unexpected positions. He forced Kalados to strain the parts of the arms that hurt the most. As the weight of his own mail grew heavy, his blows became sloppy. Then, at the critical juncture of a heavy forward strike, sir Artorius convened their two swords and drew Kalados' to the side, a decisive strike upon the midsection of the blade then swept it from the cataphract's hand.
The Drakkennide's blade was then brought to point against Kalados' neck, and the first duel decided.
The second duel would begin after a thirty minute rest, but the crowd was already turning on Kalados after his loss. The Drakkennide spare had planned his strategy efficiently. The strain that Kalados had inflicted as a result of his pride and overconfidence would not be healed in time for the spear match– which put him at a disadvantage for the next duel. Made worse is that spears demand greater finesse than swords due to their unwieldy size.
The gambling box was passed around for a third time as the men collected their earnings for the first bet and placed yet another for the second match. Yet while the other soldiers wagered, priestess Aia took the chance to approach sir Artorius.
"An excellent match my lord. It's the first time I've seen such a battle."
"I was careless— distracted by a passing fly during the fight. I should've paid better attention."
"A fly? I did not see it."
"Yes, a dragonfly as white as a neon cloud. It fluttered towards the curtain wall."
"How strange. But in any case, might I ask of you a request while I have you here a moment."
"If the lady would ask something of me, I would hear it."
"There's a village on the other end of the Anor Mountains. It is in the territory of Baron Coscan. A town called Faelenshire. I happen to be from there, and visited the city to assist my friend and mentor, sir Trenewynn. You may recall meeting him at the Tower of Ariel."
"Yes, I do. He had an air about him that reminded me of a bishop I met once."
"I seek a protector to guide me through the mountains back to Faelenshire. Both sir Trenewynn and sir Cardëlassë have given me your recommendation. Can you guide me?"
"If I were not bound by command to serve here, then I could surely guide you. But without leave from the Castle Master, I cannot do as you ask."
"Then, what say you to this, I will go visit the Castle Master with you after your second match is concluded."
"Agreed. Please do not concern yourself with the next match. It will only take a moment."
Soon after, the next match was called, this one of spears. Each combatant returned to the ring, and prepared with renewed vigor to challenge their foe– honor at stake.