Once more Avril displayed a parry-riposte to Lady Alethea Montrose’s thrust. The bronze-ranked leonid from Lutetia took the training sword to the chest, which went limp with the substantial contact, and smiled toothily to the clapping audience in the social club. Avril grit her teeth.
“Behold, my daughter can also train with bronze rankers!” boasted her father to the assembled audience. “See? It is not a thing of transcendence to merely train up a rank.”
Avril grit her teeth, smiled and curtseyed at the still-clapping people in the social club she was putting on this pointless demonstration for immediately prior to her finals match. That my father fixed, she thought furiously. A fixed tournament would put a stain on her reputation that might take all of bronze rank to scrub out. And, on her birthday! Her father had instructed her to do this to uphold the family honour and the honour of their entire society in one hand while venerating Deceit with the other.
She should have been in the viewing room practising instead of here. Not that Montrose was a bad sparring partner, her swift thrust and body type made her a good substitute for the peasant boy that Avril would be facing, but there was so much pomp and circumstance in the social club around her father. He’d never understood duelling and had always been a source of lukewarm support for her at best. At worst, he’d bring her vocation into his schemes, not tell her the details and then blame her when it all went wrong. Like what was happening now.
Avril checked the large clock in the room and then swept her eyes to the door and, as she suspected, there was the presence of an arena staff member there wearing the coat which indicated a tunnel doorman. The silent signal that it was time for Avril to go.
“Papa,” said Avril, pulling gently at his arm that he was using to parade her around. Her father either didn’t hear her over the hubbub or pretended not to hear while he was greasing the social wheels of the house with - Oh, she couldn’t remember. Some duchess from Byzasopolis who traded in salt.
“... I do, Reyer, I do,” said the duchess to her father. “My faith has brought me to leverage those orchids of mine in Marne for this.”
The duke next to the duchess handed over a bag of coins to her father which her father passed onto her without even looking at her.
“Papa,” said Avril again, insistent.
“And you, young lady Avril,” said the still unknown duchess, looking proudly at her. “You’ll be the one making our divine right manifest. The gods have seen it, of course, but just between you and me,” she leaned in conspiratorially. “I think keeping me from surge-holding with the Monets will qualify you as a chosen of Hero. When all is said and done!”
Her father made himself laugh with the duchess and Avril managed a grimace with upturned lips.
“Hahahaha! In my lands for sure!” continued the duchess. “You know what they’re like at home, don’t you, Everard?”
“Papa!” said Avril, wrenching her arm from her father. “I have to go, the arena is waiting!”
Her father’s eyes flashed with outrage for a moment for embarrassing him but in the moment, he relented, turning his eyes back to the duchess.
“Well, it seems it’s time for my little pumpkin to start armouring up!” said her father to the duchess, “but don’t even act for a moment as though that could happen. “ Her father gave a gloating, self-satisfied smile. “I have made arrangements, my good duchess Volakis. Have faith.”
Yes, that was her name. Duchess Seraphine Volakis of Byzasopolis. Majority owner family of the normal through bronze ranked salt mines that imported to the empire’s capital.
“Do excuse me, Duchess Volakis,” said Avril with a curtsey, “but I must away. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course, child, of course,” said Volakis, waving her fingers.
Avril turned and left, scooping up the betting donations as she left and leaving her father to find his own way out of the damned social club. She was halfway to the lifts by the time he caught up to her.
“Avril!” called her father, glancing around to make sure nobody of importance could see before hurrying to catch up with her. “What will everyone think of you walking off without me? It makes us look weak. As a family.”
“Yes, papa,” said Avril, stepping into the elevator. She sure agreed they looked weak as a family.
“That was a masterful show, Avril,” said her father, hopping on the elevator to the viewing rooms with her. “The way you outclassed Montrose in front of everyone in the club was exactly what we needed to remind the peerage of the confidence they should place in us. Your victory in the finals will seal our reputation, and that will seal our connection to the Craftsmen’s League. Your outburst notwithstanding, of course. You’re lucky I was there to smooth things over with Volakis. You realise that if we can make a connection with her that it could be our family who uses the Craftsmen’s League to make a connection between Oullins and Byzasopolis? You’ve got to think of these things, Avril! Today’s win could very well set the tone for your political career.”
Avril heard but ignored her father’s insistent prattling.
“Papa, I can’t focus on that right now,” she said, changing the subject. “I need to put on my armour and find my correct spiritual state or I may lose focus during the fight and I know you don’t want to do that, papa.”
“Of course!” said her father like it was his own idea. “You’ve read all the reports from the information brokers?”
“Yes, father,” said Avril, coming to the table where her armour was laid out and shrugging off the hunting clothes her father had insisted she wear in the social club as ‘more propper’. She put on a light arming doublet and hose, letting the magic in them shrink to fit her closely.
“You remember in the latest report that his smite attacks can be parried or otherwise misdirected?” said her father, the exact words of the report.
Avril hid her rolling her eyes from her father while strapping on her thin plate cuisses to her legs. Of course they could be misdirected - a parry was just a type of misdirection - and that advice was the first thing every instructor, mentor or duelling book said about defending smites. She currently had neither the time or patience to instruct her bone-headed father about how much more she knew about duelling than he did. Not that he’d even pretend to listen.
There was a knock at the door, which blessedly broke her father’s caravan of thought and he even went to the door to answer it. Avril wasn’t going to look a gift heidel in the mouth and enjoyed the brief moment of her father’s presence being concentrated elsewhere.
“Ah, Avril?” called her father from the door. “I’m just going to wait for you at the elevator.”
She looked up from strapping on her light, mail skirt at this strange turn of events. Her father was practically winking at her as he left the room and a high ranking servant she didn’t recognise entered the room and bowed. It was most improper - not that Avril cared - for her father to leave her alone with an unknown servant like this. Avril spoke first, as etiquette dictated.
“I’m sorry, I don’t recognise you Mister…”
“Master Alaric Voss,” said Voss. “I have ostensibly come at the invitation of your father to help you into your armour. May I?”
Avril recognised the name. The majordomo of the local Geller house. What the damn was her father thinking?
“Please do, Master Voss,” said Avril, schooling her face and emotions. “The breastplate is next.”
Voss walked over and picked up the breastplate with the confidence of one representing enough economic power to underwrite a city and lowered it over her head with the skill of a trained squire.
“Lady Geller passes on her regards and her best wishes for you to win this tournament of your honour,” said Voss with the detached politeness that was proper of him.
“Please relay to her my thanks,” said Avril, knowing that some kind of reply was expected. “House Reyer is ever thankful for the close connections we share with House Geller in this city. It is especially an honour to be in Lady Geller’s thoughts during her time of mourning like this.”
Contrary to her father’s impression, Avril did pay attention to the local goings on amongst the peerage. She just didn’t obsess over it. She remembered Ross Geller, Lady Geller’s recently dead son, she’d duelled him once in practice. He was a high mobility, high damage brawler and not subtle at all about signalling his next move. Avril’s impression of him was of a man who fought wildly but with no ability to lose gracefully and Avril desperately hoped that House Geller wasn’t about to ask her for any heartfelt messages of loss.
“It is about that loss which House Geller wishes your assistance,” said Voss smoothly as he positioned her backplate correctly to her doublet.
Avril’s heart skipped a beat.
“It would ease Lady Geller’s heart if you were to win your tournament,” continued Voss, no doubt pretending not to notice Avril’s anxiety. “And to that end, she has elected to loan you some items from the family vault.”
With her breastplate secured, the Geller majordomo walked around the table and placed three items on the table, two rings and an amulet, parallel to her own rings and amulet she’d used all tournament.
“Here is the description of the items as given by Adventure Society standards,” said Voss, ignoring the fact that Avril had frozen in confusion and placed three strips of paper on the table with her gear. “I’ve handled the equipment change paperwork. Your opponent is associated with people who have displeased House Geller and my mistress would appreciate seeing you put them all in their place. I trust you understand, Mademoiselle?”
“Oh, uh, of course, Master Voss,” said Avril. This was quite the last minute update and she wasn’t sure she appreciated it. “But, if you please, could you step outside while I finish preparing myself for the duel? I like to pray and meditate for focus before each match, you understand?”
“Of course, Mademoiselle Reyer,” said Voss, with his smooth detachment. “I have conveyed all that House Geller intended to say and shall take my leave. Shall I inform your father to expect you? Or ask him to return?”
“Please let him know to expect me,” said Avril, letting the man bow himself out of the room.
Avril grit her teeth, shaking her head while pulling taught the straps holding her rerebraces and vambraces to her doublet. Yes, of course her father wouldn’t see any problem with completely changing her equipment right before the finals. All of that practice she did was silliness anyways, according to him. She grumpily picked up the pieces of paper to read the items now that her hands weren’t full.
“May as well throw Clovis in there on Schmidt’s shoulders for all the surprises I’m getting,” grumbled Avril to herself. She read the items.
Avril’s jaw hit the floor. The ring of sword dancing was worth more than the rest of her kit put together. The other two weren’t exactly cheap either, although in the case of the ring of returning, that was mostly due to high demand. Many spear and knife essence users had them. The blood mana amulet was, despite its dark associations, an amazing item. If you bled, it gave you mana, if your enemy bled, it gave you mana. Her heart thumped as she looked at the items.
She had to put them on. Her father had clearly been part of the arrangements to get them here and he’d almost certainly banish her to Berbia if she didn’t use them. Besides, the items were so good. She looked over them again and slipped them on her fingers and around her throat to feel the magic flow. It felt so good.
Avril sighed. She had to admit, with these items, she’d definitely win. With a constant mana supply and a dancing sword always at Schmidt’s neck, she’d practically pour special attacks and spells into him until the victory trumpets. She sighed again, pulled a face and then finished gearing up. It was the only choice.
A minute later, Avril brushed past her father into the elevator down that already had a floating salver in it for her to put all the coins and magic items her father and Baron Franchet had guilted, bullied and cajoled everyone to bet on her. As though she was some kind of peasant who’d work harder because there was a chance at gaining some coins. She’d tried to protest to her father that she’d lost tournaments before but he’d told her to shut her mouth and smile.
“We’re running late, Avril,” said her father, as though he wasn’t the cause.
“I’m sorry, papa,” said Avril. There was silence for a moment before she spoke again. “Is there anything else you’d like to say before I go onto the area sands, father?”
“I was going to wait until afterwards, Avril but I must say, I am grateful for the opportunities you’ve opened up for us -”
“For you,” said Avril.
“- Yes, for me,” said her father without skipping a beat. “After this we will finally be taken seriously in Byzasic sea trade -”
“You will be,” said Avril.
“Yes, yes, yes,” crowed her father. “Leading House Reyer to the rightful place the gods ordained.”
“Papa?” said Avril in her sweetest voice as the roar of the crowd started to invade the ears.
“Yes, pumpkin?”
“Papa, it’s my birthday. Please stop talking about yourself.”
Johan waved to another face he recognised in the audience from earlier. A little boy who couldn’t be more than eight years of age who was holding a sword and shield made of two crossed sticks and a box lid respectively. It reminded him of his first day with Master Greenwood and his heart swelled with pride thinking about how far he’d come. If only Master Greenwood could see him now.
The tunnel doors opened and admitted Mademoiselle Reyer. Duchess Livia di Moretti had taught him Reyer’s proper name and he was very proud to know it because, as her grace - another title she’d taught - had said, he didn’t want to embarrass himself and give the wrong title when talking about his opponent! Imagine that! It’d be like calling his dad a blacksmith.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Johan turned to acknowledge his opponent as she walked to her starting circle on the sands and held out his arms and lowered them to indicate to the audience that he wished to hear her. It worked just like Master Greenwood had told him it would. A special language between the gladiator, or duelist, and the audience. He hoped he was making her proud. The audience quietened to a mere overwhelming babble and Avril spoke.
“Good people of Oullins, I am Avril Reyer and I come with confession, people of Oullins and beyond,” said Reyer, pouring a large bag of coins and magic items into the floating, winner-takes-all brazier Johan had brought in with him and left next to her circle for just this purpose. “I confess to the insult to Warrior that my family has done in heresy. It is as Mister Schmidt has steadfastly claimed; my father organised this tournament with only the design of accepting the prize of it through me. A political bribe, of a sort, for family ambitions I now renounce before Warrior whom I can only pray to for forgiveness. My father loves me but he has tied his love of me and his love of Trade’s domain together and before you all I say, may he return to the grace of the good gods again.”
Goodness but Johan couldn’t help but notice the arena had gotten quiet. Family strife could be so terrible. He really hoped that Mademoiselle Reyer’s father would find forgiveness in prayer sooner rather than later. He listened with baited breath as she continued.
“To begin my familial penance, I say two things; Firstly that even should I win, I will not take the prize but donate it to the church of Trade for it to be auctioned where I shall have to bid for it fairly by the rules of Trade. Secondly, that I owe Mister Johan Schmidt and his people an apology for the unkindness we have shown them. Despite the way he speaks and acts to his betters, my family, and all nobility, are supposed to remain his betters and act with a proper dignity.”
The audience clapped enthusiastically and Mademoiselle Reyer curtseyed, indicating with her hands that Johan could reply.
“Mademoiselle Reyer,” said Johan to everyone in the arena, somehow smiling at her through his great helm. “I just wanted to say, whatever the outcome of this match today: Happy Birthday.” He paused for a moment to give the audience time and began to sing. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you.”
Johan led the audience in the loudest rendition of the birthday song he’d ever heard. He enjoyed the shocked and embarrassed smile that Mademoiselle Reyer wore the whole time. He knew that’s how it was supposed to be on your birthday, your face red with self conscious embarrassment surrounded by singing people. He did his best to clap the loudest he could on his shield when the song was done.
The clergy of Warrior had been nice enough to hold off on turning the hourglass until the song was done. The audience kept clapping and shouting ‘hurrah’ while the sands ran down. Both he and Avril bounced on their toes in the arena, feeding off the energy of the crowd.
“One last cheer for Mademoiselle Reyer,” said Johan to the audience as the last of the hourglass sands ran out. “We wouldn’t be here without her!”
The crowd roared jubilantly as the last grain of sand dropped through the neck of the glass, the bell rang. Johan ran at Mademoiselle Reyer and she at him.
Avril couldn’t. Fucking. Believe it.
She publicly renounced her family, definitely getting herself sent to Berbia if she was lucky, and all this bumpkin could respond with was heartfelt wishes and getting the entire arena to sing her happy birthday? But she couldn’t stop smiling! Her heart had gone from feeling leaden to feeling light and fluttering, like a feather in the wind.
Well, she thought to herself, nothing for it now but to win my tournament, try to buy my armour and get used to the desert.
She rushed the giant man, half-cape flapping over her shoulder. In his armour he was almost as big as a leonid and she knew he had a strength ability but Unyielding Blade would ensure that any blade she held was never broken or knocked aside. It often dumbfounded other duelists with strength abilities and even Baudouin Fosse struggled with it.
As they closed to melee, Avril threw her rapier at Schmidt’s head who raised his shield to block.
“Woah there!” said Schmidt and Avril inwardly cursed as that net attack flew out from under his shield and held her fast. She didn’t try to strain against the conjured ropes that used his enhanced Power for their hold-strength. Instead she waited, weaponless, to receive Schmidt’s charge.
Schmidt closed with her, shield up. Avril spent the extra mana to summon her sword into her hand and used Draw Strike as soon as he was in range. Her reverse-slash was blocked by his sword but the momentum of his charge continued and he ran head-first into the unyielding blade. His head snapped back but as his hips went forward he kicked out, connecting an armoured boot with her body.
Avril was forcibly reminded of an overconfident incident she’d had back at normal rank with an angry cow. A kick with a solidity that gave no pretence that the kicker would be moved by her. Might ability, then. Probably not just strength ability, she thought as she went with the kick and improvised a backwards somersault to her feet.
Several of those little, red crabs fell from beneath Schmidt’s shield. Avril smirked and used Blade Dance which allowed her to strike at five nearby targets. She got the three crabs and Schmidt twice but despite her distracting cape flourish he returned one of those blindingly fast thrusts into her breastplate.
Definitely a Might ability, Avril thought to herself as she reeled from the blow. Her breastplate started to glow faintly with sunlight from absorbed power. She recovered, casually feinted at his head, flicked her living cape at his eyes and went for the hip with her rapier but pulled her hand back as the big commoner threatened to take her wrist off. Again. She couldn’t help but appreciate the setup his thrust gave to his overall game. With his long reach and shield it was easy to get frustrated and try for wide swings to get around his forward-facing defences, during which he’d attack the hands or arms.
So, Avril leaned into her magic. The feel of his aura put him at a very low iron which would normally indicate a duel with no problems but the way his abilities came together, it just meant he’d have to take a bit longer in the fight. Perhaps a damage combo rotation or two more for him than if he’d been higher rank. It’d been the same for Avril herself when she’d been a low iron ranker beating the iron rank cobble-holes in Oullins.
Avril used her damage rotation; activate Mastery Of Arms which gave a dozen or so heartbeats of enhanced Might, Speed, Recovery and Spirit. Then use Phantom Strikes, Piercing Thrust and Penetrating Cut, all armour-ignoring abilities, with a generous smattering of mundane, opportunistic cut-and-thrust. It surprised Schmidt this first time and he almost interrupted her flow with a punched shield to her torso but she got into and out of range otherwise safely. With the onslaught over, Schmidt followed her retreat cautiously and did a long thrust to which she tried to use Master’s Parry but the powerful ability was met with a parry of Schmidt’s own. Avril tried to throw her cape around her opponent’s sword to weigh it down, even a little through his strength ability, but had to release it and dodge hurriedly when Schmidt made the better decision to just shield-charge her again.
Avril used Defensive Stance to buy time for the armour ignoring parts of her damage rotation to come back online, those abilities all shared the same short refractory period with Mastery Of Arms being about once a minute, and so she danced out of reach, keeping him on point and waiting Schmidt out.
Seeing her defensive, Schmidt squeezed blood onto his tabard and several little blood crabs dropped to the sand. Again, Avril darted in to use Whirlwind Slash but her aura senses told her that she’d missed at least three. Schmidt backed off a step and threw one with his shield arm a few metres away behind him. Avril activated her Ray of Sunshine armour and snapped it out of the air with a beam of light and clenched her jaw a moment later as she realised he’d dropped three others next to his foot while she’d done that. The little crabs started burying themselves in the sand and she mentally marked the spot.
Perhaps feeling like he was on a timer - she couldn’t read anything of his face below his greathelm - Schmidt began putting the pressure back onto Avril in return, who retreated. It was her game plan, that she and her sword instructor had come up with themselves this morning, no thanks to today’s armchair strategists. The idea was to avoid attacking Schmidt unless the attack was likely to be successful and thus, deny him chances to dodge and parry which would, in turn, give him stacks of those boons which made him faster and stronger. Functionally, this meant a lot of feints and a lot of quick retractions with rapid footwork if it looked like he might parry. Despite herself, Avril was relishing this unique challenge that the peasant was delivering. She’d never before had to find a way to win that relied on the inactivity of her opponent.
Naturally, Schmidt was no fool. Peasant though he was, he hadn’t made it to the finals of her tournament by accident. He reacted to Avril’s overly defensive stance by going on the attack. He started using his shield as a weapon more to overwhelm Avril with a relentless assault. She cursed inwardly at that. He’d rightly identified that only her sword could hold off his increased Might so attacking with two weapons forced her to be already parrying, blocking or moving away from the next attack he was throwing at her and she wasn’t always successful.
Avril was badly bumped and bruised over the next minute of battle but she got off two more instances of her unblockable damage rotation in that time as well as a couple of opportunistic thrusts. Unfortunately, Schmidt had adapted to her as well. Her living half-cape would normally be a great asset, flicking to and fro at her will, often wrapping around her opponent’s weapon for a moment while she landed a sneaky thrust but Schmidt had clearly fought against someone who fought similarly to Avril before because she found that connecting to Schmidt’s weapon was basically asking to be yanked off her feet and he only fell for each different distraction she could do with it once.
He’d also taken to crouching down before squeezing blood onto his tabard before immediately stepping over the blood crabs which made them difficult to target with Blade Dance. She didn’t give up on wiping them out when she could but resigned herself to simply retreating rather than risk hitting his shield and dealing with them later using her aura senses. Even so, that was mentally taxing.
Avril’s retreats and refusals to exchange with Schmidt kept the stacking buffs from his abilities down but his relentless attacks still fueled that whale essence stacking boon nobody had been able to figure out. Although slow to charge, the smites he delivered were all potential fight enders, she’d parried two of the three but the last one had buckled her left cuisse with the force and the leg throbbed painfully with every step after that.
So she activated Swift Recovery, which would give her health and mana for each swift essence ability used for several seconds. She used Blade Dance, Flash Step and Between the Raindrops over those seconds to little offensive effect, which felt like a waste but at least she could move properly again. She flared her cloak in front of Schmidt’s face but instead of retreating he just blindly advanced, shield first, into her thrust and then swung at her arm, hitting the rerebrace but battering and staggering her anyway.
Avril spent the time until her next damage rotation tracking back over the sunlight of her previous steps using Defensive Stance to increase her parry chances as she went. Her footwear, Shoes of the Sunlit Path, would leave trails of sunlight that could absorb ambient mana and restore her mana should she stand in the same place later. Those sunlit trails worked well with her Daylit Helm of Mana, which increased her mana recovery so long as the helm was in sunlight. Her bracers and earrings were also sunlight-based passive mana restoration items so the natural back and forth of battle tended to restore much of her mana. Although she could definitely spend it all very quickly if she wasn’t careful.
Swift Recovery had restored some health and stamina and her defensive journey around the sands had restored her mana but Avril still felt she had a while to go to take down the armoured juggernaut who was still coming at without rest. Even Abelard Perrot would have said something clever by now but Schmidt lived and breathed the idea of why talk when one could sword?
She activated Mastery Of Arms again with Piercing Thrust, Penetrating Cut, Phantom Strikes and a Tempest Blade thrown on the end because why not? The rotation damaged Schmit as badly as before but he wasn’t staggered in surprise this time and after the Mastery Of Arms boon was over, he used that cursed net again, battered her and then smited. She almost missed parrying it and had to reach at an awkward angle, getting punched in the helmet with his shield instead. Still, what that smite did to the sand made Avril glad for her choice.
The duel continued in this pattern for some time with Avril wearing Schmidt down by cutting through his armour and he battering against her armour so hard that he rattled her anyway although, she felt, she had the advantage. He just couldn’t land combos or gain momentum. Every time he tried, one of her four defensive abilities; Uncanny Reflexes, Defensive Stance, Ghost Step or Between The Raindrops, would show their use. He activated that song-ability he had that gave small health-droplets when he hit his opponent but Avril figured he did that because he wasn’t doing anything else in that moment. He wasn’t really hitting her with more than glancing blows much.
She also felt she had the advantage because of an ability called Ultimate Technique. An arrogant, prideful name but she liked the ability. It was an execution attack that was costly in mana and stamina but basically impossible to avoid. She’d ended many a duel by using it twice in a row thanks to her Renewed Effort ability reset or by mixing it in with her usual Mastery Of Arms damage rotation. Because of that, Avril had confidence that if the match went into a long, drawn out fight with blood on both sides, she could end it with that and so, as Schmidt showed his stubborn resilience, taking her damage rotation again and again, she resigned herself to the long fight.
The fight wore on and eventually, Schmidt started using more of his equipment and abilities properly but, by her estimation, far too late. He started using those clapping gauntlets to escape when she used Mastery Of Arms and had an ability similar to Between The Raindrops that helped him parry and dodge by the smallest amounts to get him through the danger. He also began bringing inconvenient objects into existence around her with Adventurer's Tools. Like, fifty feet of coiled rope just dropped around her neck. Or a wooden box right behind her which she almost fell over.
Still, his health dropped, he became more bloody by the minute and despite being bumped, rattled and badly shaken, mostly by Schmid’s shield, Avril was coming out ahead. Eventually, she pulled the trigger. Flash Step to teleport behind him, Mastery Of Arms, Piercing Thrust, Penetrating Cut, Phantom Strikes and, finally, Ultimate Technique, Renewed Effort, Ultimate Technique.
There she stood, rapier in hand with the blade firmly in his guts up at upward angle beneath the breastplate but the arena shields didn’t activate.
“I’ve never used this ability before,” said Schmidt, taking off his helmet and throwing it to the ground.
Avril jumped back, wary of Immortality. There’s no way he had that ability. Perhaps with his Hero essence? It couldn’t be. He looked terrible, if handsome, clutching at the mortal wound on his belly that those little blood crabs were pouring out of, piling up in his hands.
“I guess it’s time to use the armour,” he murmured hazily.
Avril had half a moment of confusion before a blaze of red light exploded out of him. She flinched away but it did not hurt her. She felt fine. She turned back to Schmidt just in time to see him bring a handful of little red crabs to his face and stuff them greedily into his mouth.
“What the f-” whispered Avril at the odd behaviour before noticing that Schmidt was standing back up, completely healed.
“I apologise for the deception Mademoiselle Reyer,” said the beautiful villager as his blond hair rippled in a wind only it could feel and his smile made her heart skip a beat, “But I’ve been holding back. I’m going to fight you properly now.”
Avril managed to take her eyes off that perfect jawline and catch up with reality. As the commoner scooped up his dropped sword, the thoughts flying through her head coalesced into an image of what’d happened and she cursed herself for not seeing it. Damn! None of them had. That knightly armour of vampire poison he was wearing, it had a counter-execute effect. She remembered reading it; ‘all blood that is absent from a body shall be infused with healing energy as a counter-execute effect’. Avril’s mind raced. Every blood bubbler crab was made of his blood. Counter-execute effects became more powerful as the user became closer to death. Schmidt had a death delaying ability. He’d activated that counter-execute while he had no health. Now, every single one of the, possibly hundreds of, blood bubbler crabs in the arena was now a maximally potent healing potion.
She surged forward as fast as she could and used Whirlwind Slash, destroying dozens of the healing blood crabs that were crawling into Schmidt’s pockets but Avril could already tell it was too late, he was wearing a potion belt that Avril hadn’t paid any attention to, why should she? It was a perfectly ordinary way of dressing here. Except now, his magically protected potion belt was full of healing crabs.
Maybe I can use some myself? She thought, but the thought had no time to continue. In response to her Whirlwind Slash, Schmidt had crashed forwards himself but instead of battering her, as he’d previously done, he hooked his shield arm over her sword arm and held her like a vice.
Oh, fuck! She thought, willed her cape to flick up over his face and quickly drew a hunting knife from her belt. She stabbed the knife up into the side of his crotch where the leggings met the hauberk. Schmidt wincered but didn’t let go. Avril watched as a blood crab crawled out of his coif and into his mouth and managed to use Ghost Step to break the giant’s grip just before his sword thrust into her armpit.
Avril ran. It was still half a minute until Mastery Of Arms came again when she could match his strength and exceed his other physical attributes. Perhaps she could chain together her defensive abilities? Ghost Step ran out and she activated Defensive Stance but as Schmidt had discovered through the rest of the fight, the increased ability to dodge and parry was not so useful against a full-bodied shield-charge. She blocked it with her Unyielding Blade but the renewed commoner ducked in low and hooked his shield arm around her sword arm again. Stuck in a grapple, she managed to lever her sword into a position where it was slicing into the back of his unarmoured head but she despaired as another healing crab crawled out of his clothing into his mouth.
Changing position, Schmidt abandoned his shield, gripped the cloth of her shoulders and tripped her to the ground.
“Yield!” he commanded standing over her.
She activated Between The Raindrops to escape but all the heightened awareness and perception of the ability did was reinforce the futility of her situation when he used that damned net.
“Woah, there!” he said.
“I don’t suppose you could give me ten seconds or so?” asked Avril to the incredibly handsome man towering over her. She was doing her best to keep him on point while on the ground with a sword levelled at her chest. She could feel Master Of Arms coming back soon.
“As many seconds as you like, Mademoiselle,” said the tall blond through a dazzling smile. He bowed, keeping her on point the whole time. And then, flicked his hand out and gripped her blade in his gloved hand. “But I’ll be taking this, I’m afraid.”
Her eyes went wide. Her senses told her belatedly that he’d used that ability she’d sensed earlier that was similar to Between The Raindrops to so perfectly snatch a blade out of the air without cutting himself. She experimentally tugged and twisted her rapier for a moment but against his enhanced strength, she could barely budge the weapon in his grip. Schmidt smiled confidently as he lifted the blade and her with it up towards the point of his own sword.
“Yield?” he asked again. His blade was at her neck.
Master Of Arms had come back around. She could feel it. Perhaps she could… No. She’d match him for a dozen seconds of struggle but then this would end just like the Paternoster fight he’d finished earlier. He had control of her weapon and an arena full of health potion equivalents.
“I yield,” said Avril, her shoulders slumping. Well, at least she could take her mind off that templar armour she’d wanted. She released her grip on her weapon and stood with her arms open and palms out in sign of surrender.
“WINNER! JOHAN SCHMIDT OF WARRIOR!”
