Chapter 27-Challange
The royal throne room was hushed as the vast majority of the nobles gaped in disbelief as scions of the three disgraced Ylissean families that had attempted to take Exalt Emmeryn's life stood before them… Mitsuji Sieghart, Aabis Drachenfels, and Mimika Paraglaive.
The handsome butler Jareth wheeled the crippled Duke Rachelon until he was directly in front of the fearsome archivist. The Duke glared with contempt in his grey eyes at the half Cho'sinese. "So, a foreigner proposes to revive the Count's title in memory of his grandfather who detonated himself in an insane gambit to snuff out our noble Exalt's life. He turned to cast a withering glare in the nobles standing on the dais to Emmeryn's right. "So you plan to plunge our Halidom into chaos and infighting by standing with the nephew of a Drachenfels that assembled bomb components; and the daughter of a Paraglaive who enchanted them with Grima's infernal fire?"
"I stand with them, yes," Mitsuji replied curtly. He bowed in respect as he spotted a graceful golden-locked noblelady wearing a pink and white crinoline dress as she approached the throne. "If you would, Lady Maribelle."
She curtseyed deeply to the Exalt and her siblings, smiled to her colleague and then turned slowly to face her old mentor. "May it please Your Royal Highness and Your Grace, I believe this matter can be resolved peaceably. As the Royal Lawbook of the Halidom of Ylisse clearly states in Volume XXII, Chapter 22, pages 1510-1519: disputes between nobles can be resolved by a trial by champion."
Duke Rachelon looked at his old pupil with a look of exasperation before rubbing his beard and sighing. "Fair Maribelle, I trust you to mediate this dispute, should that upstart agree to the same binding terms."
Mitsuji returned the Duke's piecing glare in kind, but he nodded once silently.
"You have my leave Maribelle," Emmeryn soothed.
"Thank you, Your Highness. I will employ Version IV of the Trial by combat rulebook: three champions of similar ability and power shall sequentially engage in single, nonlethal combat. Each of the aggrieved parties and the mediator shall select one of the challenges. Three contests reduces the chances of one party enjoying a fluke victory."
"Agreed," Rachelon rasped.
Mitsuji added in, "Fine."
The assembled nobles looked on in excitement as the parties warily squared off. I could feel cold sweat drip down my spine at the sight of one of my allies and my nemesis facing each other in a bid to utterly humiliate the other.
Maribelle smugly leaned on her closed parasol and noted the first challenge, "First Challenge: Bladed Martial Arts."
"Swift Wolf Therion Haifanger, the Myrmidon," Mitsuji spat.
Rachelon snapped out defiantly, "Sir Rosetta Aetherton, the Knight."
I belatedly realized the tall bodyguard attired in head to toe silver and cobalt armor standing silently behind the duke was Rosetta. She was brave, if nothing else, as she had shielded her liege from the effects of the Crystal Shard bomb that had nearly turned me into wet confetti.
Duke Rachelon crossed his arms, "Second challenge: Magic prowess. My champion goes by the alias Ringmaster, the Dark Mage."
"My champion will be Cynthia Yukiyama, the Shrine Maiden."
Maribelle looked expectantly at Mitsuji.
The Archivist elicited a gasp of disbelief from the room as he sneered and spoke with a dry chuckle, "Final Challenge: Culinary Arts." He enjoyed the waves of consternation that radiated across the chamber. After the perplexed murmuring died down, he continued. "My champion is prisoner Alvia Tholikathrefti, the Plegian ex-Brigand."
"Ha! You jest," the Duke snorted.
I sensibly remained silent. I had been on the receiving end of Mitsuji's cold amber-eyed glares before… and I just knew in the marrow of my bones that he wasn't kidding.
Maribelle smirked in amused exasperation at her old friend's insane gambit. "Your Grace?"
Rachelon locked eyes with Maribelle as he broke out into hoarse laughter. "My butler Jareth Gaeason, who is fated to be the best chef in the Halidom will fight for my honor. We'll see how he stacks up against a Plegian reprobate!"
…
An hour later we were assembled in the royal gardens. Philia's Pegasus Knights circled overhead to ensure neither party in the dispute could interfere in the battles to come. Duke Rachelon sat with his family at the western side of the grassy field, with Mitsuji and the Arrowhead Scouts arrayed at the eastern edge. The royals and Lady Maribelle sat on several hastily set up chairs atop a wooden platform under the façade of the palace. They were surrounded on all sides by Chrom's Shepard brigade. I watched with a worried frown as two of Mitsuji's champions walked through the crowds to join us.
Therion looked mildly annoyed to join the field with his admirer and biggest fan. He ran his hand through his unruly dark hair and looked in my direction. "Milady. My lord Mitsuji. Why couldn't you have chosen Iniabi as your champion?"
The fierce warrior's face took on a sour face. "I am not nobility yet, Hayaiokami-san. I simply don't trust that shifty Mage Willows. Yukiyama is honest and talented."
Therion blinked in confusion as a tuft of hair fell back over the right side of his face. "Wait. Haya…what?"
I spoke in an aside, "Some sort of pun on your nickname Therion. Okami means wolf in Chon'sinese." I stiffened my resolve and patted his shoulder for reassurance…I wasn't entirely sure if it was for his benefit or mine. "I know you claim to be annoyed by Cynthia, yet you never objected once to my pairing you with her in combat."
He lowered his voice to as whisper as he hid his darting brown eyes behind his dark tinted glasses. "I…er…I'm just looking out for her. I don't want Miss Yukiyama to be hurt."
I failed to hide a subtle smile as I was touched by his concern. Despite his constant grousing, I realized that he liked the comely maiden…and he knew that I knew.
He exhaled in frustration, "Milady, please don't say it."
I nodded with an encouraging smile, "I won't. Take your position."
"Yes, milady." Her moved to the sidelines where his roosting white-feathered hawk sitting on a statue head calmly waited for her master. He sighed as he fed her raw meat of indeterminate origin.
The deathly pale albino in humble frosty blue robes gracefully walked over with amusement apparent in her washed out ice blue eyes. She bowed politely even as she was nearly a head taller than me. "How fares Shishou, Mimika-ojousama?"
"Your 'master' is worried sick about you, Miss Cynthia. Try not to get hurt, okay?"
Her face lit up at her idol's concern for her. "Ah. Good to know. Ganbatte-I mean I will do my best."
I watched the maiden with the waist-length silver hair stand next to the 'Swift wolf' with a contented expression. She seemed to display no fear at all on the field as long as she was close to her cherished Myrmidon.
The final member of the team was escorted in manacles with a look of wearied numbness in her dark yellow eyes. When I finally saw Alvia, I realized with a jolt that I had seen her before. She had been among the few survivors of Garrick's gang that raided Southtown several weeks back. She was positively tiny with light brown skin and straight black hair braided into a plait that fell to her waist. Her slate grey prisoner tunic and pants along with her bare feet enhanced her air of sadness. She curtsied delicately, "Sinjorino Paraglaive, mi faros mian plej bonan."
I gave her an encouraging nod, "Dankon, Kyria Alvia." I pointed to Mitsuji so she could consult with the prickly Archivist.
My bodyguard nudged me urgently, "Hey, Mimicutie. How do you know so many languages?"
I chuckled softly to Lily as I saw confusion in her brick red eyes. "I was holed up in the Sunstone Keep library for a decade and a half, remember? What else was there to do but read?"
Mitsuji piped up, "Mimi."
I stepped forwards, "Oh. Of course. Miss Alvia said she'll be in our care."
He locked eyes with the terrified prisoner. She immediately dropped her eyes to the grass at her field. He waved at the guard to uncuff his unexpected third champion. "You will do your best. You will rot in prison for years to come if you throw this match, Alvia."
I was mildly surprised that he didn't speak her language fluently until I recalled that he was literate in reading Plegian books, but my many years of trading with my neighbor to the west meant Plegianese was my third spoken language I knew after Common Archanese, and Rosannese. I sighed and attempted a more tactful paraphrase of Mitsuji's cutting words. "Kyria Alvia. Vi revenos en malliberejon se vi malsukcesos."
The poor girl turned two shades paler as she nodded with a terrified expression. I gently took her arm and urged her to walk forwards with Mitsuji, Therion and Cynthia. We met Duke Rachelon flanked by his own team. I had met Jareth and Rosetta before but his third champion of His Grace set off all kinds of alarm bells in my head.
Ringmaster grinned with a distantly feral smile. She cut a slender figure, with dark brown skin, eerie greenish yellow eyes, pink lips, and long black hair tied in pigtails. She looked like she couldn't be any older than Lilith yet she projected an aura of someone much older. She wore two golden vine bracelets around her wrists, a flower-like medallion around her neck, a top hat with a skull and crossbones on the front and blue and purple feathers on the side, a dark purple tailcoat with gold lining, a dark purple vest under her tailcoat, black pants, and black boots. She bowed with a sardonic giggle in lieu of actually introducing herself.
Maribelle reached the assembled teams and pointed to the Duke's fetching butler and the hapless Plegian prisoner. "Master Jareth, Miss Alvia…you task is to make Exalt's Emmeryn's favorite treat. Follow the guards to the ovens."
I solemnly condensed Lady Maribelle's orders. "Kyria Alvia, Bonvolu fari la favoran deserton de Exalt Emmeryn. Iru kun la soldatoj."
The shivering ex-brigand stammered out, "M-mi!"
Jareth smoothly adjusted his rectangular glasses and gracefully shook hands with the stunned prisoner, "Good luck, Miss Alvia. Jareth, at your service."
She blinked as she froze and flushed in her cheeks. She frantically curtsied, "Ah! D-d-dankon, Kyrios Jareth." The two of them were swiftly escorted off the field to the Royal kitchens.
After waiting for the baking content to be well underway, Maribelle sternly eyed the first set of combatants. As the baking contest would decided last it was randomly determined with a coin toss that the mages would square off first.
Everyone backed up twenty paces as Cynthia and Ringmaster warily circled each other.
Maribelle swung down her frilly gloved and barked, "Commence!"
Cynthia's shimmering silver hair undulated as she raced forwards and cast a Frost tome shooting out a spreading icy gale that struck Ringmaster head on.
Everyone in attendance gaped as the dark-skinned mage was covered in front from head to toe. She uncovered her face and giggled ferally. "Nice attack, little girl. Mind if I steal it?" She initiated her spell as Cynthia's spellbook lit up with a white glare. The cover of Ringmaster's book switched from an icon of an Ouraborus to that of a snowflake. She then effortlessly cast Cynthia's spell back at her with easily twice its power.
After the ice storm tore past the pretty maiden, she glared resentfully back at her underhanded opponent as she bled from dozens of cuts from ice shards.
With wide eyes, Therion started to unsheathe his sword reflexively.
I hissed at him, "Stand down!"
"But milady-"
"You can't."
He looked distraught as Cynthia cast a heal spell on herself and took out what looked like a deck of thin wooden cards. Her ice-blue eyes narrowed as she snapped, "Dragon." The deck levitated out of her hand, forming twelve spokes of a spinning wheel as a powerful green specter of a translucent green dragon erupted from the hub towards her surprised opponent.
The ghostly dragon smashed into Ringmaster tearing off her left sleeve as a magical shock resonated through her frame. She fell to one knee as her smoking hat hit the grassy earth.
Cynthia bowed, "A true honor, Miss Ringmaster."
Although badly battered, malice was plainly evident in Ringmaster's lime green eyes as she wobbled to her feet. She giggled and broke into a hysterical laugh, even as she appeared soundly bested, as her left casting arm was out of commission. "Hahahahaha! You already lost, silly wench!"
I looked over to Cynthia and felt my stomach drop out as her pallid face turned completely white. She murmured, "Kashikoi on'nanoko!" She then wobbled and gracefully sank facedown into the grassy field.
Realization hit me like a bolt as I realized that Ringmaster had mixed in a poison spell with her ice attack. I yelled out, "Revy, I need an antivenom, now!"
My loyal green-haired Pegasus Knight frantically rushed out with her poultices and healing stave to aid Cynthia.
Maribelle sighed and pointed her parasol towards the underhanded Mage. "Ringmaster wins! Duke Rachelon-one; Count Sieghart-Zero!"
"You little shite," Therion snarled as he lunged at the devious magic user, sending his hawk Silvertail soaring into the skies. He was stopped a dozen paces short by Mitsuji's katana, He raged, "That harpy cheated, Mitsuji! Let me punish her!"
Mitsuji sharply shoved him back and pointed his blade at the Swift Wolf's chest, "Stand down. There is no prohibition against poison in this type of match. You will not cause me to forfeit, Hayaiokami-san, by violating the rules."
"But Cynthia-"
"Cynthia-san knew this was no holds-barred. However, if she dies from the toxin, I'll lop off Ringmaster's head myself, this contest be damned."
Therion snarled and smashed his sword into an innocent wheelbarrow, reducing it to kindling. He then raced over to the softly groaning Cynthia.
Revellia's hazel eyes displayed deep relief, "She'll be okay, Master Therion. I've purged out the worst of the venom."
"Cynthia, you idiot," he snapped as he wiped away a tear from his eye.
She winced in pain, yet she still sweetly smiled as she ran her hand over Therion's cheek. "Gomenasai. I let Mitsuji-sama down…and you."
His hands clenched helplessly as Siffra and Revellia helped carry her off the field. Fire burned deeply behind his brown eyes. He stuck his sword in the earth and swore, "I will avenge your honor Cynthia."
I offered up my sword quietly, "This may help, Swift Wolf."
He looked up surprise as the Paraglaive blade was handed over to him. "Lady Mimika, why willingly lend me Schlangenfang? I once stole it from you and threatened your life not long ago."
I glared over to Rachelon with my face contorted in disdain, and then looked back to my talented Myrmidon. "Because I believe that a nobleman who would hire a dastard that would deign to use poison in a duel of honor deserves to lose face. Channel your ire into your fight."
He bowed appreciatively, "I swear, Lady Mimika." He handed over his gauntlet so I could temporarily take care of his hawk.
In the field, Sir Aetherton clanked over in her heavy iron silver and royal blue armor. She wielded a bladed polearm and a large shield.
"I bear you no ill will, brave knight."
Aetherton's dark eyes regarded her opponent coolly. She opted to bow respectfully instead of replying.
Maribelle unfurled her parasol as she commanded, "Round two…commence!"
The weapons clashed as the dark grey sword pulsed with a faint green glow. Therion swung with a flurry of strikes which deeply scored Rosetta's shield, and scratched her armor. The blows forced her back a step.
Aetherton swung wide with her spear and caught air where the Swift wolf had been only a fraction of a second earlier. She grunted and lunged forwards with her weapon, lightly grazing his arm.
Therion grinned toothily as blood seeped through his sleeve. He shouted, "Magnificent!" He evaded another slash and nimbly evaded a shield bash. He fell into a crouch and left into the air landing solidly against Sir Aetherton's shield, ripping one of the leather straps off. By some miracle, she wobbled but did not topple. The Swift Wolf hopped back and barely deflected his opponent's slash with his buckler. Her harsh blow split the iron shield in half.
They circled around each other and both charged at the same time. This time Rosetta's blade slashed his side open as Schlangenfang pierced her armor into her shoulder. Her spear fell free from her armored hand and clattered on the cobblestone path.
Therion's eyes displayed pain as he held the magic blade to Aetherton's throat.
She gently went down on one knee as she bowed in respect to the victor. She spoke in a muffled, husky voice, "So strong. I yield."
"Therion wins! Duke Rachelon-one; Count Sieghart-one!" Maribelle couldn't keep the smugness out her voice, as I knew she was a close friend with Mitsuji.
I glanced over to the future Count Mitsuji Sieghart and saw his face was impassive as his girlfriend Xolette nervously bit her fingernails. If he was nervous about the tied score, he was exemplary at not showing it.
Therion watched Rosetta depart the field and then I saw a thin smile cross his lips. I was a bit shocked to notice that I had never seen the perpetually morose Myrmidon ever smile in my presence before.
Cynthia Yukiyama beamed as she was propped up by Revy. She called out with an ecstatic expression, "Daisuki, Therion-san!"
I tuned red in my cheeks as I realized that she had just yelled out her maiden's confession in front of Emmeryn's entire court!
Therion grumbled as he wordlessly returned my Paraglaive sword and took his hawk back. He walked over to Cynthia and allowed her to heal up his slash wounds. If he was unnerved by her declaration of affection, he apparently chose to conceal it with a mask of cool professionalism.
I knew he liked her a lot, no matter what he said or did. I had more than a passing inkling that Cynthia knew that already as well.
Even the multilingual Maribelle flushed at the Shrine maiden's boldness. "Goodness…be that as it may, Round three…commence!"
Lily gently blew on my neck causing me to freeze up. She giggled and soothed, "Daisuke, Mimi-san."
I groaned softly, "I l-love you too, Lily."
"Yer too cute, Mimikins."
Gods.
After an interminable wait, I turned and saw Butler Jareth and the Prisoner Alvia approach the Exalt bearing delicate china plates.
Jereth knelt at the Exalt's side and offered up his delectable looking blackberry tart.
Emmeryn used a golden fork to sample a bite of the perfect-looking dessert. She mulled it over and then smiled warmly. "It is delicious, Master Jareth. I cannot find any faults."
I saw Rachelon look over to Mitsuji with a nasty smirk as he seemed to savor his imminent victory.
Alvia's offering was a slightly singed scone. Mitsuji's gamble looked like a very long shot…but one could still hope.
Emm smiled at the girl in rags as she took a bite out of the moist treat. Her perennially serene face took on a look of shock, and deep nostalgia. "Plegian nutmeg. Ah…I can't help but be reminded of…"
I could feel the whispers of excited and astonished spectators radiate from amidst the hundreds of assembled nobles, staff, servants, Shepards and Arrowhead Scouts.
Jareth looked over to the Plegian maiden's improbable win, but a soft smile flitted across his features. "Congratulations, Miss Alvia."
Emmeryn finally composed her turbulent emotions. "One of my happiest memories was sharing a slice of plegian nutmeg bread together with my father the Exalt Luca. Thank you for bringing that memory back into my mind, Miss Alvia."
Poor Alvia bowed frantically and suddenly fainted dead away.
Maribelle broke into a huge grin as she asserted, "Alvia wins…Duke Rachelon-one; Count Sieghart-two! Count Sieghart is the victor."
There was a roar of applause as I realized with a jolt that my friend and ally Mitsuji was now the head of the third, formally disgraced houses.
House Drachenfels.
House Sieghart.
House Paraglaive.
The three demolished traitorous houses had inexplicably risen from the ashes!
