Code Orange: A Life of Loyalty
Stage/Turn 14: On the Finest of Knights
a.t.b. 2009
The billowing wind rushed past Jeremiah Gottwald as he stood up from the disengaged cockpit of his personal Glasgow Frame, whipping his ever growing ponytail (he had made a point not to cut it since Marianne had first recommended he wear one so it now reached almost halfway down his back, he secretly hoped to grow it longer than even Sir Guilford's eventually) over the front of his shoulders as he held a rigid salute.
Even amidst the massive Imperial Richard Hector Memorial Colosseum, every single person had risen up; the thousands of noble spectators who filled, with a vibrant array of colour, the amphitheatre seating structure, towering so amazingly high it nearly blocked out any view of the sky from the ground within it, bowed deeply where they stood from their seats.
His inactive Knightmare knelt down upon the square-shaped stone ring that rose up almost six feet from the earth as if to too was paying salutations, Lady Nonette stood in salute from her own distinctly
pink-coated Glasgow which knelt by the opposite side of the ring directly facing his own as their two pilots both craned their heads up to gaze upon the same position high up along the amphitheatre wall.
A balcony-like plateau jutted out from this section of the wall in such a embellished fashion it could be clearly seen from anywhere within the colosseum, in fact, it was more like several balconies all in close proximity; to the left sat Lady Marianne, Prince Lelouch and Princess Nunnally. On the right sat all the current members of the Knights of Round; among whom, Nonette had informed him, was a returned Dorothea Ernst. Finally, the lowest plateau bore host to the Lady Consorts: Milady Gabrielle, Milady Amazonia and with their royal children all in attendance.
However it was the uppermost balcony, bearing the most embellished golden architecture and a sculpture of Sir Hector: the very Knight of One for which this arena was named, upon which Emperor Charles zi Britannia loomed stalwartly; his presence projected mightily over the entire stadium.
"Servants of Britannia! Your Emperor demands your ear! I declare that the Trials of the Rounds are now to commence!", and with that rather short announcement the Emperor took his seat once more as another figure stepped forth to continue.
""Your Majesty", the much darker-skinned man saluted as he took the fore, "These three trials shall test the fledgling's power, courage and wisdom respectively so as to determine whether they are worthy of joining the finest swords and shields of His Majesty's Empire".
While Jeremiah strained to make out any of the discontent he sensed from His Majesty's gruff succinctness in his outward appearance the current speaker resumed, "Upon the completion of all three trials His Majesty and the currently seated Knights of Round shall convene to reach a verdict upon their worth; as Kinight of One, Bismarck Waldstein, I swear to allow only those of the most elite fealty and skill the esteemed honour of this acceptance", truly a man needing no introduction.
"Now, Nonette Enneagram of the Imperial Colchester Institute, prove yourself to our Emperor! Jeremiah Gottwald of the Order of St. Darwin is the opponent you have selected to face in the Trial of Power. A duel of Knightmare Frames shall display the might you will place at the Emperor's command, may you and your opponent do your utmost for only then shall your true skills manifest themselves. Now, begin!".
On that mark both Jeremiah and Nonette dropped down into their cockpits and loaded them back into their Frames before raising them up to their feet; their duel had begun!
Jeremiah's hands grasped firmly at the handles of his Knightmare's controls, in them he felt and adjusted the balance of the lance (his chosen weapon for the duel) as if he himself levelled it at Nonette on the far side of the ring rather than his machine.
The weapon was newly designed to serve as top-of-the-line armament for the Sutherland Frame, fast approaching its completion, and Jeremiah had weighed the benefits of a weapon that even the prodigy Lady Enneagram had never faced over the detriment of one he (as with almost all other pilots) had never wielded.
The Lady herself had beamed a great, boyish smile at him back in the Coliseum's cavernous hangar before fixing him a competitive stare whilst responding that she would take no weapon of her own to the field.
The presiding official and the waiting engineer crew were dumbfounded a this choice but Jeremiah had instead swallowed down at knot of nerve in his throat for he had feared as much; Lady Marianne had told him to beware what Nonette called her Iron Dance but would not elaborate for the sake of fairness and her sense of excitement at his timid curiosity.
The common-born Knight had duelled with senior cadets and her fellow instructors on a few occasion over the time both she and himself were at Colchester but it had always been the case that he heard the news too late; he either made way to the duelling grounds from his studies too late or the bout was already over by the time he heard of it...this rightfully unsettled him as it subtly attested to the sheer prowess that allowed his now opponent to defeat all her challengers so hastily; she never gave any slack in combat and she never lost, except to the Flash herself, and even his Empress praised Nonette's fearsome growth since she had first begun being trained by her back before her admittance to the Institute.
Yet he too had trained under Lady Marianne; even more regularly this past year in her Guard as he had for three years as a Colchester cadet (an honour which, he reflected unfortunately, had not been afforded to Nonette) though he would need every minute of masterful instruction he could muster as his opponent flew toward him now.
Her Frame moved with a blazing speed that touched the Flash's own, she planted a foot in the rock-solid marble, pivoted with all the grace of a Society noblewoman's pirouette in a full revolution before flinging herself forward with one leg outstretched, the other flowing back behind deadly straight as she propelled herself dozens of feet forward before repeating the process, hastily and without the slightest pause.
Skill such as this was bound to win her a place among the Rounds…but what of his Lady's fate if that was not so? The time for thought ended when she touched down but some two dozen feet from him.
He threw his weight behind him and grinned inwardly to see it keep a straight and narrow course to the heart of the pink-clad Knightmare as it twirled into another vault and headlong into his blunted tip.
The grin flushed away as the extended right leg swung back, mid-air, to be replaced by the backward left; tilting the Frame's weight to the other side and sending it gliding along the side of his now fully extended lance.
Yet it continued, not just a tilt to avoid an attack but a swing to launch one. The right leg bent and pulled its knee beside the left thigh as the rest of the leg followed through, swinging the whole machine so its right side faced down and the left foot crashed into his Glasgow's head.
The full weight of Enneagram's Knightmare Frame brought the feet of his from the ground before its right side collided with the ring's surface, head nearly crushed between it and its foe's foot which then glided left again as Nonette pushed up off her Frame's hands and sent it into a backflip, spinning like a corkscrew as it went, and onto its feet again.
Sir Gottwald wrenched himself up and to the left as he spurred his Glasgow to its feet, wincing at a dull throb of pain from his right side as this Knightmare up-righted and he realized from the static across the majority of his viewscreen that his head unit was all but crushed and severed from the Frame proper, it came away easily in his metal hands (no wonder, after that impact!) and he tossed it aside.
This duel was with authentic Knightmares, not the dummy Frames they duelled with at Colchester, but it was still contested under the same stipulations; it would end when one party yielded, was rendered unconscious, died (though a very unlikely outcome, he was thankful) or lost use of either their body component (where the cockpit resided) or any two limbs.
The head would not count toward his defeat conditions but no doubt Lady Enneagram had targeted the unit intentionally in order to disable it; this destroyed the Factsphere therein and thus blacked out all but a modest circle at the centre of the viewscreen before him…not to mention that this Glasgow was a gift from Lady Marianne herself and he had been unable to prevent it from taking such damage…how disgraceful.
If Nonette was to have her way with him so simply than his own embarrassment would be of least concern; how much of her skill could she exhibit against an opponent who fell after some two or three minutes? Jeremiah had already realized that Nonette's prowess was a class above his own and doubted he could hold out much longer to allow her to put on the more outstanding showcase of her talent she thoroughly deserved.
And if she failed to impress His Majesty then she would be no Round and the blame would fall rightfully to him, Jeremiah could only imagine what he would feel toward one who cost him such an honour.
And what of his Empress? She had gambled her very way of life on his ability to help Lady Enneagram succeed! If he let her down she would be a royal no longer; she would lose claim to all her titles and land, cast out from her home and forcibly estranged from her children.
What would become of Prince Lelouch and Lady Nunnally if robbed of their mother so? Would their birthrights be forfeit in kind? They would undoubtedly despise him regardless. Curse his name until their dying day. …As would their mother, the woman he…
He turned his Knightmare, adjusting its angle awkwardly to compensate for his now crippled viewscreen, to locate the Knight of Six on her spectator's platform. Though his view of her was distant and of generally poor quality he could make out that she sat normally, with no hint of distress, as she ran one hand atop her daughters head and pawed at her sons hair unfettered. She trusted him.
Whether that was truly the case or his own desperately desired wishful thinking he allowed it to flood him with rigid determination and courage. "Prepare yourself, my lady!", he hefted the lance behind his missing head with one arm, "Come on lover boy! I'm always ready for ya!" they both gave their throaty war cries as Jeremiah sent his right hand sailing forward with lance in tow, releasing it the instant the arm came fully extended before him in a great arc.
His left hand slammed the butt of the weapon in an open palm as it left the other; sending the now projectile rocketing at its pink target.
"That all ya got! Hah!", Nonette spun her Landspinners at a furious pace but kept her Frame anchored to the spot with stalwart intensity. As the lance came within roughly a length of itself from her she snapped the Landspinners to the left, sending her Knightmare swivelling into a tight circular motion that quickly brought her back to where she began. But not before the lance had flown past and planted itself just behind her.
"I'mma tough broad, ya hear! You gonna come 'n get me or what!".
Nonette Enneagram would get what she wished for, prepared or not.
Jeremiah had hunkered his machine down on all fours as his lance-tip distracted Nonnette's attention; he sunk its fingers into the nearest of the divots she had left in the ring floor during her opening charge and flung himself forward with it as leverage, pushing on with his feet in unison.
He could only see through a narrow scope of screen but that was all he needed to look at the holes in the ground when hunched down like this.
He counted down the number of divots frantically to judge distance in his approach to Nonette (she had danced back to her starting position after delivering that kick; likely setting up for another such manoeuvre to pick him to pieces)…5…4…3…2…1!
As he ceased to bound toward his foe like an overexcited hound he said a silent prayer that his lance had provided him enough of a distraction for this gambit to pay off. He pulled up into a crouch, touching his Landspinners down and slanting them hard to the left, cranking the acceleration on as hard as his hands could muster.
The defiant hiss of the machines thundered through his cockpit, drowning out Enneagram's provocative boast, while continuing to force down the accelerator on the control sticks that met his hands he pushed outward on them; reaching almost blindly for the lance he had never intended to hit his opponent but rather arc past her into somewhere right around here…!
His upturned, outstretched right hand found the hilt it groped after and was swiftly joined by its counterpart; pulling the lance up and out of the stone it was embedded in as his Knightmare followed through with the on-the-spot revolution he had sent it into careening into.
As he came round to face Nonette he swung the lance skyward, rearing the tip upwards and outwards like a cornered man desperately slashing up at his assailant, clenching the hilt with both hands; his iron grip drawing its length straight and solid as it flew up into a great, diagonal swipe.
If I can cleave straight through the middle I'll have won - no - I only need to take off the head; that will level the field, the thought flew through his mind in an instant as the weight of his revolving Knightmare finally brought his target into view once more.
She must have only just caught sight of him as he brought the lance around on her right but she moved with masterful reflex; she swept her left Landspinner in a three-quarter circle so that its leg stretched out behind her while the right was pointed out in front, facing him, but Jeremiah knew not even nimble Nonette could beat him to the punch with a counterattack now; not in the pinch he had caught her in.
Yet she knew this just as well and thus threw her blisteringly honed speed into an evasion attempt; pushing off the thrust-out right foot into a backward leap out of his cleaving range. His tip caught steel, not air.
From just above her Frame's left hip as both of its feet left the ground in escape Jeremiah's lance-tip pierced its armoured skin. Swept up in the sheer force of the swing it carved up through the machine's pink-plated chest to the cockpit at its upper-center. The plating of the cockpit was not stern enough to repel the mighty swing yet the lance cleft across its front it glanced up, short of the head flying back with its newly cleft body.
As Enneagram touched down on the north side of the ring, under the platforms that hosted their most highborn spectators, even Jeremiah Gottwald allowed the hint of a smirk to creep into the corner of his mouth as the pink Glasgow's otherwise graceful touchdown was marred as it staggered to the right, unbalanced from the hunk of iron gouged out of its side.
"Hey! Ya got me! Ya actually got me! Way to go kiddo!", an almost bizarrely exuberant shout of revelry rang out from the lopsided machine balancing itself in front of him. He watched on, half shocked and half scrutinizing, as Lady Nonette's shoulders bounced up and down in bursts of raucous, boyish laughter.
The shock came from why he was able to actually see her; the gash his fierce lance blow had inflicted on her Frame had partially sheered across the front of the cockpit and exposed the pilot now standing therein (as much as its ceiling would allow her; Nonette was especially tall for a woman, she was pretty much of a height with Jeremiah himself and he was somewhat tall in his own right).
The scrutiny undercut his sense of accomplishment at landing such a powerful, well-planned blow with the observation that he had not removed any of her Knightmare's limbs with it and she still possessed her head unit and all the visibility advantage it afforded her.
Right, that must go next! That structural damage will offset her movements and if I can rob her of the sight to help coordinate I can win, I know I can! But Lady Enneagram is dangerous; I act now!
"Forgive me, my Lady! I cannot afford to offer you reprieve!", he made to lunge forward and behead her machine with a tilt of his lance but the lady knight had already taken back up the controls, swaggering into a diagonal angle as she pitched ahead to meet him.
"Damn straight you can't! This purdy lady's still kickin'!", as the right shoulder of her mech slid down the underside of his polearm, letting fly a splash of golden sparks and an accompanying metallic screech, he realized all too late how skilful his opponent was as she used her maligned weight balance to her advantage in dodging his blow to drive a thrusted metal knee into the cockpit wall before him.
Sir Gottwald did not even have time to regain his diligently practiced knightly composure before she threw the offending right knee back and followed through on its momentum with a second battering ram pounding against his cockpit as the left knee now was withdrawn from his steel coat.
The first strike had managed to clip the back of his skull into the light steel plate behind him and for a second or two he was not properly conscious. However, perhaps thankfully, the second dashed his head back once again and seemed to knock his smarts back into his now decidedly smarting head, reeling forth in nigh vain hope of mounting a defence.
The onslaught continued. Before the narrow scope that passed for his vision he saw the pink metal spin around in a circle, its left side; ragged and torn, bending inward as it passed him though this only served to quicken the revolution. Jeremiah caught a glimpse of the backside of an outstretched fist at the edge of his viewscreen and a beat later it slammed into the side of his Glasgow and sent it into a similar spiral.
I'm coming round to face her with such speed! She'll launch an attack in my blind spot and all this momentum will carry me into it at full force! I can't stop the Glasgow! I have to know how she'll strike so I can…this angle…and with her weight imbalance to counteract…I must try at least!
Emptying his mind of everything else, Sir Gottwald steadied both metal hands as he came about to face the fury of Nonette's Iron Dance and focused on wedging his lance's tip in the stone floor before him. He felt it sink in with a crunch as his Frame screeched into an unsteady halt, only to be followed by another sound, one which sent his spirit soaring.
He had tried to read her next move and he had read it correctly. Lady Enneagram had let loose a high kick from her ravaged left side, unable to balance such a blow from the right, much like the one that claimed his head earlier in the duel though this one meant to blow his cockpit straight out of its Frame. That is, before it had caught on the side of his lance.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as the momentum of the duel flipped from Jeremiah being one move from defeat to his opponent being wide open as her leg swung back awkwardly, causing the entire Knightmare to shake and pivot back on the left foot as it landed and struggled to support its half of the metal hulk's bulk. She's open! Her head is mine!
He drew his weapon up from the stone with a grunt of exertion, brought it up and out until it ran parallel out before him and then up overhead like the great-axe of an executioner before bringing the butt of the hilt down onto the pink head unit before him. It smashed satisfyingly underneath his weighty blow as the hilt buried itself into the softer metal and mass of cables underneath, jolting the pink mech out of its swagger to a standstill.
His viewscreen showed him an evened score; no longer would be at such a striking visibility disadvantage. I can win now! I even have her stuck to the spot! Now I just need to remove the lance at the right –but his viewscreen had more to show him; Nonette had drawn back her hands and assumed some strange gesture that he did not recognize at first.
The memory drifted back to him of the elective classes that Nonette had offered at Colchester for the first year of his session there, her first as an instructor. It had been intended to teach hand-to-hand combat, her own idea, as the self defence classes instructed only on swordplay which (as the lady instructor had remarked) wasn't of much use if a knight found themselves fighting for their life without a sword on hand.
Jeremiah had attended the first 'class' if it could be called such; it consisted solely of the boisterous Lady beating the daylights out of any cadet unfortunate to step up for 'lessons'…himself included. "When some bastard tries ta beat ya bloody or worse he ain't gonna teach ya how ta fight back, trust me!", she had defended her method.
He recognized the stance of her Knightmare before him as the same she herself adopted back then right before she'd punched him so hard in the gut he chocked back the urge to purge his breakfast in response. But how could she see him to aim? Her Glasgow was turned side-on toward him and her viewscreen would now be as miniscule as his; she couldn't aim such a haymaker at him now without eyes to see where it was going…
In a matter of seconds he noticed the gash which ran over the front of her cockpit, he noticed that Nonette had lain her right leg along the jagged rim while the other remained inside the cockpit to balance her as she leaned her upper body out through the gouge, he noticed her wild eyes and ferocious smile as she swept the metal arms forth using her own stretched down the front of her chest to meet the control sticks back inside the hull and, finally, he certainly noticed the shock of twin open-handed blows that loosed the cockpit with such power that it engaged the emergency ejection system and sent his cockpit flying out from the back of his Glasgow; to safety and to defeat.
His body hurt, yes, but his pride hurt more. Jeremiah mentally blocked out the aches that had sprung up from all the exertion of the duel and composed himself to the best of his ability before setting about prying open the cockpit hatch.
He was quickly joined by from outside the cockpit and the hatch door opened out to reveal Nonette standing up on the outside of his cockpit hull wearing her signature winning smile; she had won after all. She extended a hand to help him out of the hull and down onto the grass of the square perimeter between the marble ring in the center of the coliseum and the audience amphitheatre which served as its border, all the while a clamour of clapping (both polite and erratic) and shouted cheers rained down over them from the latter.
"Damn good fight, kid! Damn good! I was worryin' a little at the start but 'cha really picked up and got me cornered after that! It was so frickin' close! We gotta go another round sometime, eh!", the lady knight laughed out through a big, cheesy grin she could not seem to wipe from her face. She threw one arm side-to-side repeatedly above her head in an exaggerated wave, bouncing to each side of the spectator stands in turn.
She is pleased with the duel; that's a relief. I may have lost but I suppose this wasn't truly failure on my part at all. Lady Nonette certainly doesn't seem to think so. I gave her the best battle I possibly could in which to prove herself and she proved some magnificent skill. I rather succeeded admirably! …Though I suppose His Majesty will be the only true judge of that come the end of these Trials…
It was out of his hands now he reassured himself (for which he was thankful; his hands rather hurt) and the aspiring Round still had two trials to face. He, meanwhile, would go to His Lady and a well earned rest. He and Nonette strolled back up to a set of steps which returned them atop the ring they had fought upon while behind them a band of engineers had already set about loading up and carrying away Jeremiah's ejected cockpit. By the time they stood on the marble floor again the rest of his Glasgow and Enneagram's pink one had already been escorted aside.
A high, soft voice with a preachy tone that instantly alerted him to its owners identity filtered down from the high box where the Emperor sat. The Knight of Three, Jesuit Weinberg, had taken up vigil beside His Majesty to make the announcements, "By the grace of His Majesty, the 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Charles zi Britannia, Nonette Enneagram will now face the second of the Three Trials of the Rounds. The Trial of Courage will now commence. In this duel, His Majesty shall select a champion of his choosing to face the fledgling Round in single combat. May the chosen champion come forth now".
A thickly muscled man climbed up onto the ring, his long and thick legs carrying him up three steps at a time with ease, his brown hair hung down behind and framed the sides of his face; so dark it was almost black, even against the darker tones of the skin it hung against. The ornate, gold encrusted cloak draped behind his shoulders and the greatsword slung in a oversized, black leather scabbard banded in thickly wrought silver over it should have made his identity known to all before Sir Weinberg's unnecessary introduction; "Sir Bismarck Waldstein, Knight of One". He caught Lady Nonette mutter an expletive under her breath beside him, he did not know which it was exactly (though he had come to learn she knew many a curse that the Gottwald knight had never heard in his life) but it sounded less of surprise and more of apprehension.
"Duelists may call upon a squire to provide their selected weapon. The trial will begin once both duelists are readied and give their assent. May the Lord God be with you both. I pray He guides your blades and guards your lives. Amen.", the droning sermon ended.
Jeremiah had no cause to begrudge the Knight of Three personally, in fact he was commonly held to be quite kind, honest and charitable; a true friend to the people by all accounts. Neither did Jeremiah hold any animosity for the old religion or the people who still kept their faith in it, of which all of House Weinberg was included.
The only qualm the mans voice had stirred within him was the doubt of his worthiness as a Round. Each scion of House Weinberg had been recognized as Knight of Three ever since the foundation of Britannia, beginning with Sir Ricardo centuries ago. That he believed a seat among the Rounds should be earned, not passed down, was an issue alone yet Sir Jesuit had never partook in a battle in all his sixty odd years.
He was snapped back to the present as Nonette's fingers snapped at the lobe of his ear, "You listenin'! Go fetch me bastard sword, ya hear!", she broke her hold on him and cursed again, 'I figured he'd put me up against his buddy The Strongest…look 't the size of that bloody thing! But I ain't scared, nah, I got some brawn of me own! Let's fight fire with fire, eh pretty boy! Whaddaya reckon? Do I got a chance?".
Jeremiah nodded nervously; Bismarck Waldstein was hailed not just by the Empire but across the world as 'The Strongest Knight' for good reason, so the history lessons and tell-tales recounted ad infinitum. A battle-proven veteran before his twentieth birthday, mighty as any with his Knightmare and without equal with his blade. Except, perhaps, when Lady Marianne was concerned. Still, he felt that even with all her bravado and courage Lady Nonette was in need of some small reassurance at least. He was glad to escape the awkward moment as he set off at a jog from the ring, passing through an opening in the amphitheatre and down a corridor toward the armoury where Nonette had left the hand-and-a-half blade she now sent him to retrieve. A knight playing squire? I wonder whether Lilicia would be humoured or humiliated to see this? Perhaps I should be thankful Prince Schneizel busies her so in the House of Lords.
He passed by several pairs of guards from his Order of St. Darwin in the same raven blue martial regalia with the pale red stripe and golden trim and shoulder-guards he had worn for a good year now, flanking him with one on each wall every couple dozen feet along, they paid him salutes and he turned his head side-to-side to repay each a bow of his head.
He only left Aries Villa rarely; to visit Lilicia and the servants who kept their family's estate and that of House Troy which had passed to them but his esteem as Captain of the Empress' Guard was known to those who served in this Order at least; they were the guards who stood watch for the highest tier of the city Pendragon and the royal relatives on St. Darwin Street as well as the knights, like he, who commanded them.
The knights he could tell from the longswords which hung at their waist beside the rifles they all held; all knights were bestowed longswords upon their knighting and had been trained to wield them though they'd become largely ceremonial and few continued or used this training nowadays.
Lady Marianne had become a master of the lighter, slimmer of blade sabre however and so had taken to presenting a sabre to each newly dubbed knight who graduated from Colchester since she'd become the institution's Chief Instructor. It was a sabre that dangled along his waist and another which he clutched in his left hand as he marched on ahead.
The latter belonged to Lady Nonette who had received it from the Empress when she was knighted a session before himself. She had asked him to hold onto it for her in favour of the bastard sword, "I never got real good with one like you an' Nelly an' Lady Marianne; it's quick but a good knife's always quicker. If I have ta fight with swords best go big or go home", 'Nelly' was the nickname for her closest friend Princess Cornelia; she had allowed herself to use in front of him after he ceased to be one of her students though even she always called Marianne 'Lady'.
As fearsome as Nonette was in unarmed and Knightmare combat (which he had learned personally, the hard way) he knew nothing of her skill with a sword…and everything about Bismarck's. As much as his insides had boiled in star-struck fluttering to finally meet the Knight of One in person it was cooled by a suspicion he hoped would soon be disproven by Lady Enneagram. She has strength, but skill?…Please! She will need it.
He took the bastard sword from the armourer with his thanks and quickly wondered whether it was really crafted with the intent to be wielded with either one or two hands as he fastened the strap of its sheath. The weight of it pulled down on his already sore back and dug in where it sat over his right shoulder, sending him fussing and re-adjusting it all the way back.
When he made it back to Nonette she stopped pacing to and fro and leaned over him to wrench the blade straight up and out from its confines, sweeping it diagonally with her right arm and then her left before bringing it down with both hands in a straight line before her as if to bisect the invisible X mark she had carved into the air. "Cheers Jeremiah, guess I'm ready as I'll ever be…Nelly's watchin', gotta make her proud".
He scurried back to stand beside the opening in the wall he had just passed through as Bismarck Waldstein slowly and calmly drew free his massive greatsword in response, holding it still and straight before him. Nonette had called him by his actual name rather than some jest as she always did since he graduated, this and the absence of her ever present air of levity, amusement and cheer disquieted the young knight even further as he watched her take stance with the sword hoist above her head with one hand while the other was crooked up an open just in front of the hilt.
The clearing of Sir Weinberg's throat and his following order to "Begin!" was clear enough to him from where he stood as it echoed through the speakers and the natural acoustics of the coliseum but he found himself wishing he could move closer to the ring as he struggled to clearly make out the blades dancing about before him.
He considered making for Lady Marianne's box but it was too high a climb and the fear that he would miss the end of the duel overruled the notion, he strained his eyes into a squint to try and make thing out as clearly as he could yet still they came to him only in the odd glimpses.
Nonette's sword jumped from one hand to another as she tried to catch a hole in Sir Waldstein's guard. Yet whenever it looked to Jeremiah that she may have found one the statuesque man would also loose a hand from his hilt and its thick, broad blade flew faster than it should have been able to block the strike.
The second hand would then rejoin the other as the Knight of One brought his greatsword into a great sweeping blow but the young knight was able to make out Lady Enneagram duck under and dance back a few paces. Yes! Your speed my Lady! Sir Waldstein may be able to strike as swiftly as he needs to but surely you can outpace him…surely!
As if she had telepathically shared in these thoughts Nonette charged her opponents with all the speed and fire it seemed she could muster. She gave no quarter and threw all her energy behind each of the flurry of blows she rained down on Bismarck's stalwart spike of iron.
The Knight of One moved to end the assault though he figured; he appeared to flourish the metal hulk before him, putting Lady Nonette on her back foot hesitantly, hefting it up above his head and moving to cleave the female knight in two as shocked gasps rang out all around.
She must have tried to meet his strike with all her weight thrown behind it because next he knew she was spinning backward, her slender body would have made her even harder to see if not for the musculature brimming all over and filling out her otherwise boyish figure.
He could not describe how the duel ended in any great detail; the bastard sword was planted into the ring and Nonette was revolving (on her hip?) atop its hilt, her outstretched legs seemed to catch Bismarck in the head full tilt and she came to a stop. Then, a beat later, there was no sword in the ground and the body which was balanced horizontally in mid-air along the top of it was plummeting down what must have been nearly six feet to the unforgiving stone floor below with a giant, braced hand enclosed around its throat.