Book 3: Chapter 24 – The Hero [Part 1]
Book 3: Chapter 24 - The Hero [Part 1]
A hero is born among a hundred, a wise man is found among a thousand, but an accomplished one might not be found even among a hundred thousand men.
- Plato.
A crowd had gathered in the small courtyard of one of the Alchemy Laboratories near the Academy’s Menagerie, fewer than there would have been but for the downpour. Low-quality Zajasite stones marked the ad hoc dueling arena with their weak glow. The flagstones gleamed treacherously, slick with rain. Poor footing for a duel, not that such consideration would bother the Crown Prince much. He could be stubborn like that, Seraphina thought dryly. Or perhaps he aimed to have an excuse should he lose.
Why in the Heavens did Velens insist on doing this outside? the blonde girl continued to ponder.
The young noblewoman waited beneath a broad umbrella that Miriam held with nervous hands. The maid kept biting her lip, as if the rain might slip through and drown her mistress at any moment. Beside them, Desdemona yawned prettily under an umbrella held by a very sleepy Sir Filippe, one of Seraphina’s personal Knights. Eloise, by some turn of luck, had claimed the shelter of Sir Gravens’ umbrella. Now, he stood ramrod straight, eyes facing directly ahead.
Seraphina looked to Velens and saw that the rain did not touch him. The droplets broke and slid away in the air, a pearl of space kept dry around his fine clothes. A few paces behind stood Este Lize, silver hair lustrous, eyes flicking aside when Seraphina’s gaze met hers. The hussy was using her little tricks, Seraphina thought. Water magic, keeping her prince dry. Velens had chosen Sir Gallant as his second, which was a touch unfair in Seraphina’s estimation. Gallant was of Royal Guard steel and happened to be an Arts Martial instructor. Of course, Velens would choose a paragon.
“Has the Academy officially condoned this duel? Is the faculty so deep in the Crown’s pockets that they will prop up His Little Highness in a private temper?” Seraphina asked, her tone sweet as vinegar.
“I am here as a friend to His Majesty and as a sworn knight of the Royal Guard, Lady de Sariens,” Sir Gallant replied. He looked every inch the knightly ideal, even rain-soaked. If anything, it added a certain extra wildness to him, jaw set, his clothes clinging to a body forged by drill and battle. A faint scar that traced his left jaw added to his martial aspect. Her eyes climbed from that pale line to the steady darkness of his eyes. A girl could find herself adrift there if she were foolish. Such a pity he stood on the wrong side. There was something about that dark, handsome Knight…
Gallant turned to Hughes. “His Highness requests that the duel be to satisfaction.”
“Master Hughes will fight to—” Seraphina began.
Hughes smiled at her, careless and calm, and her words slipped away from her. He gave Gallant a shrug that bordered on insolence. “I don’t know a thing about the duelling business. I do get to choose how we fight, though, right?”
The Knight glanced to Hughes, then back to his prince. “That is correct.”
Hughes folded his arms, considering, while Gallant supplied options. “We have rapiers, longswords, or arming sword with shield, as tradition allows.”
Seraphina tipped her chin, sending a quick look up to the roofline where Sir Frest crouched with his heavy crossbow. Cornelia, her little menace of a familiar, would be wrapped around his chest. They had their signal.
Remember, just a small bite if I tell you to, Seraphina reminded the sleepy serpent.
If Cornelia gave him a warning nip, Frest would put a bolt through Velens, then through Este Lize after if he had time. Insurance.
And like everything, she believed in layered Insurance. Tia sheltered under the wings of a stone gargoyle, little weapon in hand as a last resort. The Saint would be able to detect her with her many arcane skills if she sensed danger, but Seraphina hoped the element of surprise would be enough.
“You will command that witch of yours to cease her magics,” Seraphina said, pointing to Velens. “We will have no cheating. If I so much as smell the tiniest whiff of her trying to influence the Elements here, I will stuff sharp steel down her throat.”
Of course… the water. Cunning little Velens. Having your little witch help you out.
The murmurs swelled around the courtyard. Este Lize flinched, guilty as a cutpurse caught with purse strings in hand. Velens possessively drew an arm about her shoulders and whispered words of comfort against her ear. She looked as if she might cry.
The faint pressure that shone about him, that delicate barrier, winked out. But at that very moment, the rain thinned. Clouds shouldered apart to let in a pale circle of light, as if the heavens themselves sought to flatter him.
Fortune is a coquette, Seraphina thought. She will kiss the undeserving if it amuses her.
“We don’t have to fight with weapons, do we?” Hughes asked, cheer as natural as breathing. “Being just a commoner, I’ve had little reason to wave a sword about.”
“Unless you are a cripple, you have had militia training,” Sir Gallant said, voice edged with iron.
Hughes had to stop himself from smiling. The boy had learned long ago that to be a good liar, he had to convince people that he was a bad liar.
“What are you driving at?” Velens snapped.
“Let’s use fists and feet,” Hughes said. “That way neither of us gets hurt too badly.”
“That is the height of stupidity. We will fight like—” Velens began.
“He is within his rights, Your Majesty,” Gallant cut in, unruffled. “Accept the terms or retract your challenge.”
There was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an air of disappointment.
Seraphina felt her mouth curve. “Yes, Velens. Retract it. There is no honor here for you. You are his senior, and every subject will hesitate to strike his future king. Save what dignity you can and withdraw your challenge.”
Always give an enemy an out. Now, she had framed herself as the reasonable one. When word of this event got to the King, Velens would no doubt be censured.