Chapter 48: Winner

"Interesting." Vina whispered.

The duchess supported her head as she sat in her high-backed seat at the newest developments in the match regarding her champion.

Hastur glanced over at the Duchess, but instantly caught a pair of emotionless blue eyes locked onto her. The half elf darted away and pursed her lips. She looked on at the arena and buried her face in her hands.

"Oghma, damn it!"

Varris opened her eyes and felt the soft touch of lips touch hers. A million thoughts and emotions ran through her and made her heart skip a beat. Too bad the most deafening of these was unbridled rage. She pulled away and slammed her forehead into the face of her admirer.

Thaelin clutched his nose. Red leaking between his fingers. "Ah! Myshka, I think you broke my fucking nose!"

"I'll break more than your nose, you piece of-"

Thaelin caught Varris' greatsword between his shortsword and his dagger, but the harsh edge of a shield came crashing into his side. "Sweetheart, please. I'm sorry-

"You will be sorry!"

Hastur tapped Duke Du'fenn on the shoulder. "Um, my Lord. Shouldn't you do something?"

"Why? This is the best entertainment I've seen in a very long time."

Sir Minot coughed into his hand and leaned towards the Duke. "My Lord, this fight has clearly gotten out of hand. It should be stopped."

The little man rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. "Very well. You are absolutely right. I shall stop it. Give it ten…fifteen more minutes. I want to see if the lady here skewers the young man or not."

Thaelin paced backwards as the incoming paladin made slash after slash for the ranger's head. The man kicked a cloud of dust into the Paladin's face. Varris shut her mouth and eyes as she got pelted by the granules. The dirt made her eyes sting.

A cocky grin formed as he felt he finally gained the well-earned upper hand. Thaelin managed to take two steps away before his armor clunked and gave away his location.

"Shit!" He yelled as the greatsword came swinging towards him and knocked his shortsword away. In a last-ditch attempt, the ranger's bollock dagger twirled around into a reverse grip and threw his dagger underhanded at the paladin.

Unfortunate for him the dagger found its mark and embedded itself into the fleshy part of Varris' thigh. The crowd went still and even Duke Du'Fenn was left gasping at the sight.

"Myshka…I'm sorry. That was an accident. Okay? An accident."

Varris whinged as she shifted to pull the blade free. The tip of his dagger was painted in a thin film of blood. A relatively light wound, but still it hurt. More pain to fuel her rampage. "I'm going to break every bone on your body, now."

Varris tossed the blade into the dirt and wound up another greatsword attack. Thaelin jumped backwards and tried to propel himself away. And soon the fight became a race. A knight of humble beginnings was being chased by a paladin of tempered renown. By the second time he passed Noble's stage, Thaelin could feel his strength fading. The weight of his armor was wearing him thin. He slid to a halt and scooped up his dented helmet and a handful of loose dirt.

"Myshka, I think this dance has gone on long enough. Don't you think?"

Before she could retort, the bucket helm was being used as an improvised club swinging wildly at the warrior. Varris swiped the first strike away and grabbed the blade of her falchion into a half-sword maneuver to make short work of blocking several more improvised attacks. A strong kick to the stomach made Varris hunch over and receive a solid thump to the front of the head. Varris staggered back and wiped her brow. Thin blood trickled down her head. Thaelin pursed his lips. And his stance went relaxed.

"Sweetheart. I'm really sorry about that…and this."

A plume of dust and gravel went to Varris' eyes and the paladin fell clutching her face. Crying at the stinging granules taking her vision.

Thaelin threw his hands up and basked in the roar of disapproval from the crowd. His face shining like the sun against the jeers

"You bastard!" Came an ominous growl from below. "I will make you pay for that! And for what you did to Monty!"

The paladin unleashed raw rage against the ranger. With her gauntlets, she threw wild swipes and punches. Thaelin backtracked swiping a few strikes but received more than he could block with his helmet for a club.

The twos dance proved long and hard until they were both feeling the ache from fatigue. They looked on at each other winded. Gasping for breathes. Their armor weighing them down terribly. Varris urged herself for one more strike but her legs wouldn't have it. Thaelin's battered body radiated in pain. With their final pants for breath they fell.

The crowd around them fell silent unsure as to who to cheer for.

Hastur and Sir Minot sat there dumbfounded. Both of their champions lay in the dirt. Clearly bested by each other. But they were both too proud to claim their champions the loser

"Wait. So who was the winner?" asked Hastur.

"Clearly it was the Sergeant. She rendered the fool unconscious first." Sir Minot affirmed

"But Thaelin landed more strikes. He is the winner."

"Impossible. Perhaps if your ranger would be more adept at combat he would have won."

"And if that bitch wasn't such a bitch, she would have won."

"Listen to reason, little girl-"

Duke Du'fenn rose from his seat and faced his compatriots. "My friends. I think it is clear to see that there is no clear winner. And as such, the spoils of our wagers shall go to me."

Hastur's grip around her coinpurse went limp and the man's little fingers plucked the purse away as with Sir Minot. Both the nobles stood there perplexed at what had happened.

The Duke bounced the pouched of gold in his hand and in turn tossed them on to the Duchess of Steinnacht.

"And I believe this should cover my debts to your great bank." The Duke said holding his hands behind his back

Vina flashed the little noble a surprised look. She held the pouches aloft and then rose from her seat. "I believe so. Now if you don't mind, I have other business to attend to. I will look forward to our next transactions, Your Grace"

Hastur looked to Sir Minot whose stone-like face looked especially grumpier at the newest developments. "Um, what in the Nine Hells just happened?"

The Militia Captain collected his empty strongbox and exhaled at how light his chest was "it appears we lost the wager."

"But…b-but he didn't even place a bet on our opponents."

"I think it's clear who his wager was on. He bet they would both lose."

"Son of a bitch…"

Hastur looked down at Freki baying at her feet. The little hound propped up in its hind legs trying to get her attention. "Come on boy. Lets go gather the idiot and go back to our stupid poor lives. Wealth was fun while it lasted."