Black Jack actually had a strange ability of telling time without needing a clock, though he usually used a pocket watch anyway, simply because if fit his club owner image. So it came as no surprise when, just short of the hour, there was a knock on his door, the lock clicked open, and Rodger came in. The Yurble was carrying a change of clothes for the young Wocky.

An officer's suit, naturally.

Rodger set the outfit alongside Black Jack on the bed, then unlocked the chain from the manacle around his left paw.

The Brown Wocky took the opportunity to take off the heavy coat, which was getting a little warm, as well as his suit's jacket. He folded them and laid them aside, then checked his weapons, stubbornly ignoring the officer's outfit.

"So stubborn," sighed Rodger, with an air of expecting no different. He gestured and Black Jack held out his left paw for the Yurble to reattach the chain. This time he left enough slack in the chain for the Wocky to easily draw his swords and fight.

"You really are just like your father," said Kiote's first-mate, locking the chain in place.

Black Jack narrowed his eyes, but made no comment.

The Yurble took his forearm and directed him out of the room. They ended up in the large dining hall. His father and an assortment of officers stood or sat around the room chatting, casually looking forward to some light entertainment. Chrysalis stood in the center, her blade, a long katana in the Shenkuu style, already out and practicing her movements. She leered at Black Jack as he came in.

Rodger pushed Black Jack towards the center of the room, then turned and locked the doors behind him. On the off chance Kiote's son would attempt an escape in front of a room full of officers.

"You call this a test?" Black Jack asked his father in a bored sounding voice.

"Oh, no," replied Capitan Kiote. "This is simply more of my proving a point." All the officers laughed at some sort of inside joke.

Black Jack saw Chrysalis blush, but she held out her katana, both paws on the hilt, her stance firm and quite proper. She'd been well-trained.

Actually, he quite pitied her. Not one officer seemed to be on her side. Not that he was about to let the foolish girl kill him.

"Begin," announced Kiote con Triste. Silence fell over the room, and Chrysalis charged before Jacque con Triste could take his stance.

Or so she thought.

To her surprise, his foil easily caught her katana. That flimsy, pathetic excuse for a blade, held only by Jacque's left paw, easily locked her katana's swing.

"You're surprisingly strong," Black Jack said casually, then shoved back. The blades slid against each other and Chrysalis was knocked back several feet, only barely managing to keep her stance.

She charged again. This time he blocked. And blocked. And blocked. Then parried. Again she was thrown back.

Jacque con Triste looked bored. He hadn't so much as shifted his rearpaws since the fight began, and his right forepaw wasn't even reaching for the other sword at his side.

The Lupe began to sweat. She had seriously, seriously underestimated him.

"I thought you said you'd kill me," commented Kiote's son, raising his eyebrows slightly as he watched her reappraising him.

She glared at him and lunged, this time with a thrust aimed straight for his heart. Again, he casually locked her katana with his foil.

For a split second, she could have sworn she saw a flash of sympathy in those cold blue eyes.

While she struggled to regain control of her katana, locked with his foil, the Wocky casually drew his cutlass with his right paw, flipped it casually, and held it to her throat.

She had lost already. But she wasn't ready to admit it.

Tears sprung to her eyes, along with bitterness and alarm. She wrenched her katana free, nicking herself on Jacque's cutlass. She hissed in pain, but stepped back, hoping to spot some flaw in his defense.

The handsome young Wocky frowned and, in what Chrysalis took as the greatest insult, pulled a handkerchief from a pocket and used it to wipe the few drops of blood from the strange, black blade. He seemed completely oblivious to Chrysalis, so she bravely dived forward.

He finally moved, but only just. He neatly sidestepped the Pirate Lupe, banged the hilt of his foil against the side of her head as she dove past, flipped her katana out of her paws and out of reach with his cutlass, then kicked her dazed body onto her back and pressed the foil's tip to her throat.

Her eyes were dark and lifeless with defeat. She'd never stood a chance. She finally understood why Kiote had been so dismissive of her attempts to replace his son. It… it wasn't possible.

"You can kill her, if you'd like," offered Kiote, not sounding in the least surprised, though his voice hummed with pride and pleasure.

Tears sprung to the female pirate's eyes, and she closed her eyes as she waited for the death stroke. But, to her shock, the foil left her throat. She looked up, meeting the eyes of Kiote's long-lost son, and this time she was sure she saw a gentleness Kiote had never exhibited in there. He turned away to face his father.

"Are you quite sure?" asked Kiote, not sounding like he really cared. "She fancied herself heir in your place."

"She can have it," Black Jack coldly replied, gesturing for the Lupe to leave. She quickly scrambled to her paws and away from Kiote's son.

"Certainly not, after losing so pathetically. And shouldn't you be out of shape?"

"I've kept myself busy."

"Excellent. And well done, by the way. Very well done."

A murmur of agreement traveled around the room.

"Capitan?" began a beautiful officer, a Yellow Zafara with an enormous sword strapped across her back. She was staring eagerly at the young Brown Wocky. "I know I agreed to wait until tomorrow, but I really don't want to anyway." She lifted a paw over her shoulder to grasp the hilt of the huge blade, her eyes never leaving Kiote's son.

"I had no idea he'd be so good. I have to test him out myself!" She actually licked her lips.

Not good. She's insane, thought Black Jack, having seen the look in the Zafara's eyes many times before.

End of Part Eleven