Shadowsage 2: A Fantasy Adventure, page 22
Aurelia walked to the center of the marked rectangle and stood at attention. She looked like the embodiment of disciplined strength, contrasting starkly with the Drogon’s brutishness.
“Commander Aurelia Dawnshell, presenting as proxy for Mayor Kaelus Vex, Your Honor,” she called, loudly.
“Your weapons and armor will be inspected according to the Terms of Honor filed with the Crown and witnessed by His Majesty,” the Arbiter said and started circling Aurelia slowly, peering at her armor, her sword, the fastenings of her greaves. He was trailed by two clerks carrying ledgers and measuring rods.
“Draw your blade,” he said, and Aurelia did.
A murmur rose from the crowd.
“Pretty,” the Arbiter said, gesturing for one of the clerks to measure the length. He called out the figure loud enough for the King to hear. “Record it,” the Arbiter said as the other measured the thickness of her shield.
Next he ran a hand across Aurelia’s orichalcum breastplate, his fingers lingering near the hidden Shadow-amber scale.
He frowned slightly, perhaps sensing a latent magic within.
“Can you feel the thickness?” I asked, leaning forward and rapping my knuckles on Aurelia’s chest.
“Stand back, Mayor,” the Arbiter said.
I shrugged and did as asked, but the distraction had worked, and he moved on to check the buckles on her vambraces, the laces of her boots.
He was meticulous, painstaking, and utterly focused on the letter of the Terms, completely blind to the spirit or the hidden power woven into the very essence of the gear.
Aurelia stood still throughout, not saying a word.
The clerks scribbled furiously.
“Armor and armament deemed compliant with the Terms of Honor,” the Arbiter announced finally, his voice carrying up to the King.
A low murmur of approval, tinged with relief, ran through the section of the crowd loyal to our cause.
He made a notation in his ledger, and muttered, “though the God’s know what good it’ll do her against a spitting giant.”
Vera, Celestia, and Kira were all among the crowd and they smiled at us.
“Champion Drogon,” the Arbiter called. “Step forward.”
Drogon didn’t move until Valessa placed a hand on his plate-armored forearm and said, “Drogon. Present yourself.”
A low growl vibrated in the brute’s chest and he stomped to the marked spot.
“Drogon,” he grunted. He didn’t offer his patron’s name. Whether because he was unable or as an insult, it was deliberate and crude.
I approved.
The Arbiter visibly steeled himself before approaching, and the clerks hung back. The inspection of Drogon was a farce. The Arbiter moved around him cautiously, keeping a careful distance.
I wanted to reach out with Empathomancy and see what he felt, but with the Arbiter there and Grand Magister Theron likely actively looking for magic, I curbed my curiosity.
He only peered at the crude iron plates bolted to Drogon’s body, examined the rivets, the crude knuckle-dusters fused to the forearm plates, and noted the length and weight of the maul. After having a clerk to measure the thickness of the shoulder plate, he checked the rough fabric of the tunic and trousers, finding nothing concealed.
It was all surface.
The trap was perfect.
The bait was taken.
“The augmentations… are integrated,” the Arbiter said hesitantly, consulting his copy of the Terms. “They appear… customary for the champion’s… presentation. No active enchantments discernible.”
On the surface it looked to be a duel between a berserker and a defender.
It wasn’t a hard case to make as Drogon in full plate armor would be perceived as better armored, and there were no obvious enchantments.
The arbiter looked to Valessa, seeking confirmation or perhaps absolution. She gave a single, regal nod and the Arbiter sighed.
“Armament deemed compliant,” he called, scribbling in his ledger.
The formal part was nearly over. Only one thing remained. The proximity check.
“Champions, step forth and acknowledge each other before the field.”
Aurelia walked crisp and precise to the Arbiter, facing Drogon, her chin lifted, expression calm.
Drogon stared at her as he walked over and stopped a foot away, his massive chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Nothing but malice filled his eyes.
Then he leaned forward and growled, his face coming close to Aurelia’s head.
As he did, I triggered the focus crystal I carried, activating the diagnostic rune. It didn’t detect any magic directed at Aurelia, not directly. But there was something powerful and unstable nearby. A hidden, unstable magical energy source of the type to give a boost or cast a specific spell. It came from straight in front of Aurelia, beneath the chest plate bolted onto Drogon.
Aurelia held his gaze for a three-count, then gave a single, sharp nod and turned on her heel and walked to me.
This kind of artifice was forbidden, and would invalidate Valessa’s challenge if exposed.
My trap had sprung.
The prey was caught.
I looked at Valessa. She smirked at me, believing victory was assured.
The Arbiter cleared his throat, and said, “The inspection is concluded! The duel commences at noon tomorrow, upon the Field of Honor! May the gods witness the just outcome!”
Chapter 25
Gearing Up and Kisses
“Come,” Aurelia called, and I opened the door. According to tradition, both she and Drogon had spent the night in Glimmer Keep. A way to keep anyone from running away and to theoretically make it harder to tamper with their equipment.
My champion turned and greeted me with a nod. She stood in front of a wooden stand holding her equipment.
She wore only a simple linen under-tunic and trousers which did nothing to hide her strong body.
“You look calm,” I said, leaning against the doorframe and crossing my arms. “Ready to take on the world. Or at least one oversized brute bolted into scrap metal.”
“Preparation is half the battle, Kaelus. The other half is ensuring your opponent underestimates you.” She spoke with the familiar Deputy Commander cadence, but there was a softness to it. One which had come after our night spent together.
“He is powerful, but a blunt instrument,” I said, walking stand in front of her. “You’ve faced worse odds on the walls, and most importantly, you’re not alone in this.” I didn’t touch her. We’d talked of one night, and I didn’t want to dull her warrior’s focus.
“I know,” she said quietly. “I trust the gear, the strategy, and my arm, but…” She looked to the breastplate. “What you told me of the cheat, it changes things significantly.”
“It gives us the victory,” I said. “Valessa signed her own defeat when she chose dishonor. Now you have a choice.”
“Oh?”
“If you don’t feel like carving the man to pieces you just need to survive long enough to make the trap spring,” I said, and winked.
She scoffed.
Before I could say more, Kira entered behind me. “Hey sexy,” she said to Aurelia. “Slept?”
“Enough,” Aurelia said, her disciplined mask flickering with surprise at the familiarity.
Vera and Celestia came next, both stopping to kiss my cheek.
“Morning, Champion,” Vera said. “Big day.”
“Morning,” she said. “To what do I owe the… visit?”
She seemed a bit taken aback by visitors, especially moments before a big event like this duel.
Celestia smiled and touched her arm. “We knew you were gearing up. Thought we’d see you off. Properly.”
“See you off? Please,” Kira snorted. “We’re here to make sure you win, Oath-Knight.” She pulled out a vial from a pocked and shook it. “Ain’t nothing in the rules about applying a bit of black-scale serpent’s piss on the blade.”
“Isn’t there?” Aurelia asked.
"Nope,” Kira said, tossing her the vial. “We wrote ‘em, didn’t we?”
“And what exactly is this good for?” Aurelia asked, holding up the vial.
“Stinks something awful,” Kira said and grinned. “Put some on the tip and it’ll make the fucker’s eyes tear up!”
“That’s crazy,” Aurelia said and laughed, closing her fist around it. “I might just take you up on it. Thank you, Kira.”
“And I brought you some…pep,” Vera said, handing her a flask. “It’s Dragon’s Heart juice. Nothing magical about it, but the distilled fire-pepper, herbs, and ground adrenaline gland will give you enough energy to run five miles before shagging for two hours and coming thrice.” She winked. “Just a few sips now before the duel.”
“Let me guess,” Aurelia said, accepting the flask. “It tastes of feet sweat and armpit hair?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Vera said. “Never tried it. But Mr. Fluffles acquired it for me at quite some expense, and when it comes to such things I trust our teddybear.”
Aurelia looked to me. “You think its safe? I’m not sure it would be worth risking fighting on a bad belly.”
“Its a non-magical edge, so perfectly within the Terms,” I said. “And if Fluffles says its good, then it is. I trust him with my life, and yours.”
“Then I will drink it,” she said. “Thank you, Lady Ironheart.”
“Oh, no. It’s Vera to you now,” Vera said and squeezed Aurelia’s bicep. “But kiss us for good luck before you drink it, please.”
“Kiss?” Aurelia said, blushing.
“Only if you want, of course,” Vera added. “But Kaelus kisses us often and he is extremely lucky, so I figure there’s something to it.”
“And if that isn’t enough,” Celestia said, “This is for lucky.” She held out a silver chain from which hung a small, flat disc. “It’s just a token. No magical power. But it was blessed in a place where I once… found moments of peace. Hold it. If you feel doubt, remember you do not stand alone. You fight for us.”
Aurelia accepted it and stood looking down at it for quite a while. “Thank you,” she said finally. “All of you. I have spent my life standing watch alone among the many. Forced to watch corruption, unwilling to participate. Punished for it.” She looked at us. “With you I have found meaning once more. Thank you. For that, and your gifts.”
She handed the chain back to Celestia. “Would you help me put it on?”
“Gladly, sister,” the elf said, and Aurelia smiled as she put it around her neck and closed the clasp.
“Now, let’s get you ready,” I said. “You have a family to come back to.”
The practicalities took over, and together, we armed our champion.
Kira secured the buckles on the greaves, Vera and Celestia helped her with the breastplate, and Celestia the gorget and pauldrons. I lifted the shield, settling the straps onto her arm.
Finally, Aurelia slid her sword into its scabbard with a satisfying snick.
She stood armored and ready, not a champion bound by duty, but our protector.
Then she took the flask and unstoppered it, but halted, meeting my eyes, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “About those kisses…”
Vera was already moving. She rose on her toes, cupped Aurelia’s jaw in her palm, and pressed a firm, unhurried kiss to her mouth—confident, claiming, warm.
“For victory,” Vera murmured, lips still close.
Kira bumped Vera aside with a grin and planted a quick kiss on Aurelia’s other cheek, then nipped her jaw just hard enough to make the Oath-Knight blink. “For fun,” Kira said. “Go break him.”
Celestia stepped in last of the queens, fingers light on Aurelia’s gorget strap, pulling gently and making her bend down so she could kiss her brow, eyes closing as if in prayer. “For peace,” she whispered. “Come back to it.”
Aurelia exhaled, steady and slow, then looked to me.
I raised an eyebrow, giving her the choice.
She didn’t hesitate, just grabbed me and pulled me in. It was a brief kiss, but lovely.
“For us,” she said as we broke apart, and then she lifted the flask. “Right. Fire and feet sweat.”
She took a swallow.
The reaction was immediate. Her eyes watered, every muscle in her neck tightened, and she made a sound like a warhorse trying not to sneeze.
“By the old laws,” she croaked, clutching the flask, “that tastes like someone boiled a smithy in a boot.”
Kira whooped. “That must mean it’s fresh!”
Vera winced in sympathy and patted Aurelia’s back. “Sip, darling. I did say sip.”
“Yuck,” she rasped. “Now I can taste colors and I hate them.”
Kira leaned in, sniffed, then recoiled, laughing. “Gods, your breath could strip paint. Point it at Drogon.”
A sharp rap sounded at the door.
“Champion Dawnshell,” a clerk said, giving a bow. “The Lists are called.”
Aurelia rolled her shoulders once, the plates whispering. She capped the flask, slid it into her belt, and squared the shield.
“Time to make a very bad morning for a very large man,” she said, and we followed her out.
Chapter 26
Battle to the Death
“What?” I asked, leaning towards Vera, trying to hear her above the din.
The tiltyard was filled to the brink. Nobles were crammed into shaded boxes, merchants and guilders sat packed shoulder-to-shoulder on the lower benches, and what commoners had showed up early enough for a spot filled the rest.
A thousand voices merged into a mess, making it hard to hear what even Vera and Celestia said, and they were sitting next to me. Once again I wore makeup, subtle, but enough to make me look different from the drawing the Forum had circulated.
I sat on a wooden chair slightly elevated above the general throng but well below the ducal box.
“I said it seems half the city has placed a bet on the outcome, one way or the other!” Vera half-yelled.
Celestia sat on my other side, looking serene.
Kira was out in the city, watching and also running the illegal part of the gambling.
“Fluffles has placed a significant sum on Aurelia’s victory,” I said. “It will fill our coffers quite nicely for the next stage.”
“Why?” Vera asked, frowning. “Are we running low?”
“Not even close,” I said, chuckling. “But seizing such opportunities is why I seldom do.”
I looked up to the ducal box where King Oscar Vaughn lounged, looking bored. His chin rested on one hand, his pale blue eyes half-lidded as he surveyed the scene below with the disinterest of a boy forced to watch ants crawl.
Seraphina the spymaster and Grand Magister Theron stood behind him, both watching carefully. When the mage’s ancient eyes lingered for a moment on my queens and I, I met his gaze coolly, offering a slight, respectful nod he didn’t return before his attention shifted away.
Then, a trumpet blast, harsh and discordant, cut through the roar and every head turned towards the eastern archway.
Aurelia Dawnshell marched out, her visored barbuta helmet beneath her arm. The crowd cheered and clapped.
Whether out of respect, fear, or awe, it was hard to tell.
She didn’t look up at the galleries, but instead scanned the sands with the disciplined focus of a soldier entering a kill zone.
“She looks magnificent,” Celestia said. “Lethal.”
Mine.
The applause shifted, turning to roars, as those who preferred a less orderly approach saw their champion emergy.
Drogon lumbered onto the sand and paused, as if to let them all look. He wore no armor aside from that bolted to his skin, and carried only the ugly maul.
Valessa entered behind him and said something which was lost in the crowd’s noise.
Drogon walked towards Aurelia while Valessa remained at the edge of the sands.
The Arbiter stepped onto a small wooden platform overlooking the arena floor and spoke, his voice amplified to overcome the crowd. “Champions, to your marks!”
He unrolled the scroll.
“By the ancient Right of Solvum per Gladio, invoked by Countess Valessa Dunraven of House Dunraven, and answered by Mayor Kaelus Vex of Whisperwind, these champions meet upon the Field of Honor! The terms, sanctioned by His Royal Majesty, King Oscar Vaughn, are thus: combat is to the death! No quarter given! No quarter accepted! Victory is decided solely by the cessation of life in one combatant! Armament is restricted to that carried upon the body as customary to the champion’s presentation! Do you both acknowledge these terms and enter this contest of your own free will?”
Aurelia’s voice rang out, clear and firm, cutting through the silence.
“I acknowledge the Terms and enter freely,” Aurelia called. “For the City of Whisperwind and lawful order!”
Drogon just shifted his weight.
The Arbiter hesitated, then looked towards Valessa.
“My champion acknowledges,” she called.
“Very well,” the Arbiter continued. “The Field is sanctified. The combat commences upon the ringing of the first bell.”
Aurelia put the helmet on and drew her sword, turning first to salute to the King and then to me.
I raised a hand in reply.
She settled into a ready stance, shield and sword angled, weight balanced on the balls of her feet.
Drogon put both hands on his maul and faced Aurelia, his eyes empty, and lowered his head.
I turned to look at the King who now sat leaned forward, smiling.
“Anything you can do to help her?” Celestia asked, leaning close.
“It would be risky,” I said, looking up at the sun which was beating down. There wasn’t a single shadow on the field, which was an unfortunate tradition of the list. They were fought when the sun was at its highest. “Not impossible, but with the Grand Magister here we need to be careful.”
A single bell hung from a stand near the Arbiter’s platform. A young page stood beside it, holding a large, padded mallet and looking proud to have the job.
