Guiche stepped deftly back; barely escaping the range of ex-Prince Wales' powerful horizontal slash. The strength was well beyond that a normal man might bring to bear and was followed by an arc of black flame that brought with it the horrible and familiar feeling of death and age settling into one's very marrow. Yet even as it approached he burned his regret and forced it back by the force of his tears.
Extensive practice meant that even his vision wasn't significantly impaired. A sort of calm fury had settled into the young Nobleman; the existence of this shade wearing the face of one who had, by all accounts, once been a generous and kindly Prince was offensive enough in its own right without knowing that his presence here was undoubtedly the work of his erstwhile mentor.
This served to focus him into an ice-forged blade that now twisted to the side to avoid an impossible returning stroke. Wales had managed to twist his arm and wrist down and around to cut upwards at an angle. The awful sound of cracking bone and snapping muscle made it clear as to why no mortal could have managed it.
Once more Guiche was only just clear of the scything tip of the obsidian blade. Close enough that the dark fire almost licked against his skin and most likely would have had it not been for the aura of Moonlight surrounding him. Rather than take advantage of the Prince's self-damaging stroke Guiche instead retreated back a few steps; eying the limp arm with an air of skepticism.
To nobody's surprise Wales smirked and twisted his arm again. There was another horrible crack and the material of his sleeve bulged as the muscles repaired themselves in a matter of moments. He flourished his sword, black flames trailing after it, and began to slowly circle his opponent. Behind him his other monsters were retreating with the Princess in hand; clearly realising their master would have to take some time for this. Or perhaps he had given them an order somehow, Guiche couldn't know which.
"Impressive. You've survived three more strikes than anyone else thus far. Well, except for Henrietta's mother, of course. Though, she may yet survive. My King didn't say I had to kill her, fortunately." The smile that was on the monster's face was all the more terrible for how genuine it seemed it might be. "I'm afraid, however, you're just outmatched here, boy. I could have beaten a dozen of you before my transformation."
This time as he lunged forward and stabbed out Guiche was just able to turn the blow aside in time; the force of deflecting the strike causing his bones to reverberate. Shock danced across his face for a moment before the cold mask of the Aurora returned. Once again he declined to press forward; giving way to the Prince instead as Wales' continued the momentum and spun to cleave through the air that his foe had occupied merely an instant ago.
The ability to near-immediately turn his strokes back, even at the cost of his own joints and muscles, was terribly unfair. Each time he did it there was that horrific crack of shattering bone and the equally unpleasant snap of muscles and sinew tearing as they were subjected to force no human was meant to experience. The movement it engendered was also difficult to deal with as the whip-like motion of his broken arm changed his reach in unpredictable ways. That Wales could keep his grip under such conditions was a testament to how changed he was.
Guiche kept his stance and circled both to the side and away as the Prince consistently advanced upon him with a blistering flurry of strikes. He'd strike from above then ruin his limb to bring a blow down from below or the side; twirling the twisted arm to then either repeat either of the former strikes or even bring one in from yet a third angle. Each time Guiche barely cleared the blow by using his sword to negate enough of the momentum that he could slide clear.
Confusion was breaking through his otherwise impassive mask; a growing lack of comprehension showing on Guiche's face. Wales smirk had long since transformed into the calm, easy smile of a man enjoying his work. As his arm cracked back into place he made use of a brand new technique; a strike from below transitioning into a strike from below by way of continuing his momentum, shattering his own shoulder to perfectly twist his arm around and restoring it in time to drive his own obsidian blade through the stone ground itself; seemingly without losing any force in the process.
This time, rapidly crumbling stone shard rained down on Guiche as the blade nearly kissed his chin on its second pass. He skidded back and pushed himself to open up a distance of several metres this time; unable to disguise the abject stupefaction that now filled his face.
A hand rose and fingers snapped as understanding suddenly dawned on the Prince's handsome face. "Of course! You're Guiche de Gramont, aren't you? I see, I see. No wonder you've held out so long. That familiar of yours was very nearly a major setback to my King's plans, you know. I wonder what will happen to him when I kill his master." Wales' tone was relaxed and could have been mistaken for kind if not for the air of condescension. "After all, we both know that's where this is headed, don't we?" Guiche quirked an eyebrow and became very still, slowly lowering his sword until it pointed down.
"Ah, yes. I see you finally understand, don't you? The difference between us." "It's only natural. In my previous life I was already skilled enough. Now I have transcended what few flaws I had." He stroked his chin and grinned companionably at Guiche. It was rather amusing, in a way… apart from his own rather wild hair it was easy to see himself in the abomination that now spoke down to him. "Don't take it too hard. From the very beginning, you were outclassed in every way."
Then something happened that the former Prince clearly hadn't quite expected. Guiche de Gramont began to crack. First, he lowered his head for a moment; head trembling, chest shaking. That hadn't been strange in and of itself, of course. In fact, he looked rather pleased by this turn of events.
Until, that is, Guiche reared back and burst into laughter.
At first it had started as a low chuckle as he raised his head but had soon transformed into full-bodied, hearty laughter that broke the silence that had fallen between them. Wales was so taken aback by this development that he didn't even think to cross the distance between them and cut his enemy down. Fury still danced across his face as Guiche wiped his eyes, the light of his aurora dimming for a moment, and his indignation quickly boiled over
"Have you truly lost your mind, then? Pathetic. I think it is time to put you out of your misery." Yet as he raised his sword and tensed himself to step forward and put an end to this farce of a battle Guiche held up a hand. For some reason, unknown to his current self, Wales paused in place.
"I do apologise, Prince Tudor, for my conduct. It is most unbecoming of me to show you such a display. Yet, I find I must also express to you my deepest gratitude." Confusion now fell upon the monster's features as Guiche gave him a genuinely grateful smile and a humble bow with only the tiniest bit of flourish.
When he stood up his eyes were unclouded by mirth or sorrow and the white light shining off him was brighter than ever before. Wales had to step back and nearly raised a hand to block it out before scowling and forcing through the pain. Guiche continued, his tone a mixture of amusement and self-deprecation; "You see, you have helped me more than you can possibly understand."
"Helped you? I think you have cracked, boy. You've failed to withstand me at every turn save the first." Wales gripped his black glass sword tighter, reinforcing it and himself with even more unholy flame, but was unwilling to step any closer to the soothing pyre Guiche was burning on his back.
"Not so. You see, until now I have been much like a man climbing a vast and might mountain. All I could see before me was the peak; forever staring up at the distance I still have to tread." The tone of reverence in Guiche's voice lacked the same zealous tone that Wales himself had displayed earlier. It was deeper than that. Wrought with more meaning than mere words could convey.
"These past few weeks I have felt… insufficient to the task before me. Every time I look to my future I see only that lonely summit which I aspire to one day reach. Yet now, thanks to you, I have at last had the occasion to look back upon my journey and see just how far I have come." Guiche raised his sword with a practical flourish; coating it once more in a layer of moonlight and dipping his head to his foe. "And I shall show my thanks by taking this fight seriously now."
The sheer magnitude of the insult dealt to Wales in that statement set his blood to boiling. Immediately the abomination surged forth with hate and power and unholy flames that left a thin layer of black ash wherever they passed. This time, however, Guiche advanced into the face of the assault. His blade flashed white, parting the darkness, and calmly slapped aside Wales' with a well placed rap near the tip before using the momentum given to his blade in the other direction to calmly carve a line into the Prince's chest.
This time Wales recoiled; flailing wildly with his black glass sword to ward off any follow-up while the dark fires within him attempted to force out the cold, unforgiving light of the distant moon that filled his wound. He couldn't help but feel dismayed by the grace and skill in that one maneuver; two traits that Guiche hadn't shown in any great degree in this fight until now.
"You're fast, Wales." As he spoke, the young man stepped forward; heedless of the blisteringly quick and equally unpredictable slashes. "But my favourite sparring partner is much faster." To emphasise his words Guiche totally ignored the wild flailing; diving in between two slices not to cut but to strike. His forceful kick sent the monster Prince skidding backwards across the stones of the courtyards with palpable disbelief radiating from him.
As soon as he regained his balance the Prince snarled; his expression turning fierce and bestial as he attempted to recover some semblance of control over the duel. He charged forward and forwent all finesse in favour of gripping his blade with both hands and bringing it down in an almighty blow with all the strength he could muster.
"You're strong, Wales." Guiche matched it perfectly; supporting his sword with one hand on the handle and the other on the flat near the tip as he formed a perfect line with his full self and caught the blow in the middle of his sword. The stones beneath him buckled but the line of his body did not. "But my familiar is much stronger." Then, adding further insult to insult and injury both he kicked out again.
Only, this time Wales' knee took the brunt of the blow and immediately gave way. As it twisted backwards the Prince went down only to find that Guiche had taken instant advantage of the reduced pressure on his sword to free up one arm and grab him by the face. Before Wales' could even think he was quite literally flung across the courtyard by his head to slam directly into a stone wall; face against it and head down.
"O stones 'neath my feet, reform thyselves and reach out to smite my foe; Stone Spear!" The chant was completed with speed that would have rivalled what was once Wales' own; finishing moments after he hit the wall and pinning him there by the resulting spike that launched itself out of the courtyard's paving from near Guiche's feet. "O stones 'neath my feet…" As Guiche rapidly brought his sword about to touch it to the ground again and began his chant anew Wales desperately tried to pry himself free.
"Reform thyselves and reach out to smite my foe." The Prince managed to get his arm around behind his back and snap off the first projectile just in time to drop off it, "Stone Spear!" … and have the next one narrowly pass between his legs; tearing at his leather riding pants in its passage. If he hadn't fallen to the ground it would have punched through his skull instead. "Stone Spear!"
Wales rolled sideways and leapt to his feet just in time to narrowly catch the incoming bolt of rock with his non-sword hand. Casting it without a full chant had reduced the strength to nary a tenth of the original but it still delayed him for yet another instant as he had to devote attention to pulling it out of himself. This gave Guiche time to chant yet again.
"O bones of this land I hereby plead to ye! Buckle here and tremble there; Linear Quake!" A modified version of his father's signature spell rippled forth; cracking flagstones and thoroughly tearing up the courtyard in a metre-wide line of shifting stone that caused the merest stumble in Wales. That was enough of an opening for Guiche to simultaneously chant and reach into the pocket of his vest to retrieve one of the items stored there for occasions such as this one.
"From stone not made by mortal hands, to tin and copper shaped by man, then form the serpent of the land! Bronze Hydra!" The name was his own, and the spell itself was woefully incomplete. He still needed to test it, refine it, improve on the chant and the mental image. But the Earth Stone he'd just tossed out, one of only three he'd been able to find and purchase, filled in the difference.
The paved stone beneath the gem rippled like water and then flowed upwards into it as it flew towards Wales. It was already practically liquid under the effects of the Linear Quake and this was just one step further. As it poured upwards parts of it changed to a silvery colour, parts to a more metallic orangey-red. These fused as it took its final form and immediately slithered across the unstable ground towards the Prince with the aim to encircle and constrict him.
It was really closer to one of the detached serpents that his father had used than the true Hydra that he'd created for his duel with Kenneth. However, the spirit of it was in there. More importantly, Bronze's innate resistance to corrosion meant that the unnatural aging effect of Wales' magic wasn't showing its full effects. Of course, his dwarven familiar had assured him that the legendary black flames could burn even mountains to dust given enough time.
He didn't intend to allow the Prince enough time.
"It's funny, Wales, but you were almost right!" As he set to work he took a moment to half-taunt his foe. Only half insofar as he felt a genuine regret, of sorts, at having to do this. "You could have beaten me, once." A quick and whispered incantation passed the spell into the stone where he stabbed it. Wales was still wrestling with his bronze snake and not having a great time of it; though he surged forth with such volume of dark flames that it was starting to tarnish the untarnishable.
"I can see it in you. Your opening stroke is that of a master. If you sustained that, then you'd win." Another quick whisper and press into the ground as he continued to calmly circle the swirling black inferno in the middle of the courtyard at an odd angle. "But you can't. The certainty you possess in your new 'king', and in your invincibility, are what defeated you." He continued to circle and pressed another point; muttering quickly and precisely.
"What do you even know… you spoilt child!" At last the dark flames overcame the animated metal and destroyed the Earth Stone within the Bronze Hydra. Wales tore through it, tossing the flakes of metallic ash to either side as he did so, and rushed for his weapon. Guiche didn't stop him at all; allowing him to pick it up and turn to face his adversary with hate burning in his eyes as clearly as the fire burned on his skin.
"I spent my last days fighting every minute until I was born anew. This blessing gave me the chance to correct the failings of my life. What could you possibly understand about that!" Yet his impassioned cries brought only a slow shake of the head from Guiche. Then he raised his sword, the last two Earths that made up the trigger to his work held within him.
"Imprison." The three spells that had been laid at equidistant points around where Wales' sword had come to a halt all triggered at once. Dozens of pillars of stone burst out of the ground from three directions; each on its own small but all together proving quite formidable indeed. They crashed not into the Prince himself but each other; forming a triangular set of bars that surrounded Wales on all sides.
"It's funny. Three Line spells together and I'd say it barely equals a Triangle spell in form, let alone force. But this will be enough for you… won't it, Prince?" As Guiche said that, walking towards the sealed monster, dark fire burst forth. It was the work of a moment to focus on his freshest regrets; the last meeting with his father, never being able to show him how he'd grown, his inability to protect his family.
These burned in his heart and on his shoulders as a wave of moonlight flowed outwards in response. It hurt… so very much. Yet that pain was nothing compared to what might have been had he failed here. If it was just this much, then Guiche could take it.
"Two things, Prince. Two things. First, you let your real skills slide past the first blow. Each time you aimed to exchange with me; trusting that you could take every strike I could deal out and, equally, that any blow you landed on me would be fatal." The darkness was forced back under the cold light and retreated first into the prison and then into the unholy sigil that had replaced the Prince's right eye.
His entire demeanour changed as the light washed over him. He quivered and collapsed against the bars; clutching at his chest and wheezing in pain. Guiche sighed and shook his head. "Kenneth told me it was true mystic darkness fused in full with elemental fire. The Aurora Requiem is mystic light fused in full with elemental cold." He looked truly sad as he explained; waiting patiently while bathing the Prince in harsh white light.
"The light of regret chases away the darkness of denial, while the chill of the grave overwhelms the flames of unlife. You're dying again, Prince. For good, this time." Wales clenched one hand into a fist and pounded the other against the stone. He couldn't swing his sword properly in the prison but even if he could his strength seemed to have left him. "I didn't expect this to work so well. I'm glad I was right."
"What… what was the second thing?" The skin of the Prince was darkening slowly and he croaked out his words under the barrage of frigid light. "You said… two things… what was… the second? Why am I… dying?" It was clear that he was truly begging for answers. Guiche understood his confusion. Even against the inferior versions of what Wales had become, the Wights, his cloak had never show this level of efficacy.
"Your first strike in each combination had the essence of a true master in it. I know well that level of dedication and skill. Yet, they were also flawed. You hesitated with each opening if only for an instant." Guiche raised his sword, wretched in ethereal white light, and readied it for a thrust as he spoke. "Moonlight is the cold light of memory. The Aurora is fueled by regret. Mine, yes, but even yours. I believed that you were fighting against what you had become. Now, it seems I have been proven correct."
"I see…" Wales chuckled weakly, and shook his head. "Unfortunately, the dedication I feel… it remains unwavering... even now. Perhaps you are right, Guiche… but I shall never know." He looked the young Gramont directly in the eyes, then, with fresh intensity. "Whatever happens, know that I did it for Henrietta. Please tell her that." Guiche nodded.
"I shall tell her."
His sword flashed forward and described a line that passed right through the sigil in Wales' right eye. As it penetrated the once-dead Prince's brain there was a surge of negated darkness that passed through his body. When Guiche pulled the blade free he could see that Wales Tudor had returned to death with a smile on his face. It was a strange comfort to see that.
In truth, there was more than he'd had the time or inclination to say. Wales' transformation had empowered him with inhuman toughness, but cost him much. He hadn't cast a single Halkegenian spell in the entire battle; perhaps he'd been rendered incapable of doing so. Or perhaps Guiche had been correct and some small part of him had been resisting the power of the King.
Leaving the body where it was Guiche calmly turned and walked towards the path that the strange blackened glass zombies had taken; allowing the Aurora Requiem to return to its quiescent state in the process. He was in no particular hurry to rush after them or the Princess. The reason for this was revealed when he had calmly strolled through the archway they'd passed through and caught up with what was left of them at the stables.
Two inanimate corpses were strewn across the stable yard; each missing several large chunks of themselves and totally devoid of any animating magic. Standing nearby, delicately checking on the fainted Princess Henrietta and grumbling irritably about bad tasting magic, was the armoured body of Derflinger.
As of yet Guiche had only had the chance to spar with his former shield once. He'd been extremely surprised by the result. Despite being unfamiliar with his own body Derflinger had, without any apparent effort, wiped the floor with his young partner in arms. As it turned out, one couldn't be wielded by a few thousand years worth of swordsman without picking up a thing or ten.
"Hey, partner! Took care of the minions. Wasn't much of a challenge. They're worse at this then you. Can't stand the taste of this magic, though. It's just the worst. And every time I have some I feel…" Derf trailed off and scratched at his helmet; turning to face the Princess instead. "She seems fine. Just fainted. Never get why damsels do that so often. How'd it go on your end?"
Guiche didn't respond at first; checking first that the Princess was both breathing and in possession of a pulse. Then he gave her a cursory examination for any wounds. Finally, he reignited the Aurora for a moment to pour Moonlight into the dismembered bodies, just in case. At last satisfied that the situation was resolved he lifted the Princess in a bridal carry and began walking.
"It was… a satisfying, yet unsatisfying conclusion." Derf nodded; apparently completely understanding Guche's meaning. Defeating his opponent and understanding how much he'd grown had been very satisfying. Yet for all the joy there had been to find in the fight itself the resolution had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
He looked down at the unconscious Princess in his arms and sighed. "Come on, Derf. We need to get her back to the Queen." The ex-shield nodded and began to trot along behind Guiche.
"Right you are, partner. Hopefully she's still okay…" With those words hanging in the air the two of them shared an unspoken understanding and broke into a smooth run together.