DISCLAIMER: SKIP BEAT! and its associated characters are the creations of Yoshiki Nakamura. This author claims no ownership of Skip Beat or any of its characters. All other rights reserved.
The Adventures of Space Pirate Ren Tsuruga
Chapter 2: The Downfall of the Baron Charmwynder, Part 2
The masquerade was in full swing when Ren arrived in costume with Kijima and Yashiro in-tow. They were in old-school dominos and black capes, classic clothing for masquerade attendees in what had been known as Venice on Old Terra. The costumes were calculated to appeal to the Baron, who was said to be a man who enjoyed Old Terran conventions. His 'palace' reflected this—it was a strange amalgamation of legendary Terran palaces. There were windows from Versailles, turrets from Neuschwanstein, and, inexplicably, a portico from what the first Settlers had called 'The White House.' Ren, who'd grown up at the Hizuri palace on Angeles, thought it was the most absurd thing he'd ever seen. And worst of all, Kojiro was right. There was grass. It was green. And there was a fountain burbling with water—not the largest one he'd ever seen, to be sure, but it was there. Ren looked at it with some disgust before turning his eyes to the company in attendance. The place was full. Having just seen the Spaceport, Ren found the crush unexpected. Here were the throngs of people that had been missing from that settlement. Or at least their richer counterparts. Because there was no doubt that whatever wealth to be had on Armandy was on display here.
Something is up, Ren thought, and not just what Fox told me. His truthsense had told him that Fox hadn't told him the whole truth. The crowd was an odd mix. There were people who were clearly living off the fat of the land, such as the land was. They were dressed in fashions imported from Vergarix, or Rinder, or even Angeles. And then there were others who mingled and laughed as loudly, but whose eyes were dark and grim. Ren suspected that the Baron had made just as many enemies as he had allies—hence the need for the blackmail files that Fox was accessing. But there was an understated hum inside the ballroom, a tension. They're waiting, he thought. Perhaps there was more than just Fox stealing the data tonight—Ren would wager on it.
It was going to be a coup d'etat.
Ha, Ren thought in admiration, good for you, kid. If—and that was a big if—Fox had managed to assemble enough of the planet's nobility to his cause, tonight would be a good night to make a move. The planet's aristocrats were in one place—it would be a surgical strike to capture them when they were separated from their strongholds. He had a feeling this was the true plan. He didn't even fault Fox for not telling him—why would you tell a total stranger about this? And Ren's diversion would be just as effective for a coup as it was for a hack.
Something you wanna tell me, kid? he sent on the commlink to Fox.
Is there something irregular? Fox sent back.
Would've been nice to know this wasn't just a data hack you were planning, Ren wrote.
Silence. Ren counted down the minutes as he moved through the crowd. Listen, kid, I wasn't born yesterday, he sent. Your operatives aren't terribly great actors.
Wasn't sure we could trust you, Fox wrote back. Still not sure.
The crux of the plan had been to upset the Baron enough to have him bring his security forces to circle Ren and his crew in an attempt to keep them from leaving. With the security forces thus diverted, the expectation was that Fox would be able to make a clean getaway with the data he'd obtained.
Fox.
Yeah?
You're planning on siphoning all the goons into that gambling den and moving in?
Silence. Ren almost shook his head in frustration, then remembered to keep his face neutral.
Fine. I can work with that. Distraction's gonna be bigger, so plan accordingly. Same signal?
Same.
He'd assured the kid that he and the crew would be able to make a clean getaway no matter what, and the kid hadn't asked any questions. Ha, he thought. He didn't know whether or not it was because they were superfluous to the operation, but it was somewhat troubling. Ren knew he'd be fine—they were equipped with gear so advanced not even the Hizuran special forces had it. But he didn't like the kid's lack of concern for his teammates. Because if the kid had taste for bloodshed, this crush of people in attendance could also be the setup for a massive bloodbath.
Tsuruga.
Yes?
No blood tonight. Don't kill anyone. This isn't that kind of operation. I'm not my brother.
Ren heaved a sigh of relief. At least that was settled.
Time to get the show started, Ren thought to himself. He motioned to Kijima and Yashiro, moving into the palace. 'Look for a portly man dressed like a Knight of Old Terra,' Fox had said, 'He loves to gamble, so head for the gaming pits.' Ren scanned the room, looking. Guests were sprawled all over the gaudy furniture, drinking wine and guzzling water with abandon. There was loud music, there were hors d'oeuvres being distributed by masked attendants in plain suits. But he finally found the gambling pits—hardly a difficult task, given how large the venue was and how loudly the crowd was roaring.
The Baron was unmistakable. He was seated in the center of the room atop a sizable dais, playing Holdings, complete with a set of golden dice. He was a large man, and the 'armor' he was wearing clanked on the table as he flung his cards down onto it. "An imperial cascade!" he declared, and the house went wild. Ren hazarded a look at Yashiro, and the XO nodded. Both of them had seen the Baron access the hidden device in his sleeve. It was entirely possible that the rest of the house had seen it too—but here, in the heart of his domain, the man clearly feared nothing.
The loser was dressed as an old Terran military general, but bowed out. "You've won this time, Lord Charmwynder," he bowed, "It's been an honor." The rest of the table applauded.
Fox had given Ren as much information about the Baron's gambling habits as he could. Charmwynder had some obvious tells—that glance downwards and to the left…the nervous twitch on his upper lip…a tap-tap-tap from his finger. In the end, it wouldn't matter—Fox had told him that Charmwynder would cheat, and Charmwynder was cheating. The solution, then, was to play the man at his own game. If Charmwynder was going to cheat, then Ren would simply…out-cheat him.
He and Kijima had pre-gamed the scenarios. At first, Yashiro had wanted no part in the scheme, being somewhat averse to cheating and being even more averse to intervening in small-planet politics. But Ren had made up his mind. They were leaving nothing to chance. From what Fox had said, the Baron kept a device up his sleeve that provided him with the desired card. Fox wasn't quite sure how it was controlled, but it was almost certainly powered by an electroservo. "Would a targeted EMP pulse disable it, do you think?" Ren had asked the boy. Fox had only shrugged his shoulders. Regardless, Ren was already determined to use a multi-pronged approach. Yashiro would deploy the targeted EMP on the Baron at his signal, and he'd use a simpler version of the specialized bioscreen he used to hide his telltale Hizuri features. It didn't need much tinkering, just a mirrored generator on his wrist and some customization on his retinal display. The dice would be another thing entirely, but they weren't critical to winning so long as his cards were truly superior.
"Who's next?" the Baron cried. He was riding high on his winnings. A tableful of chips and gems stood before him, and he rifled through them with a proprietary air.
Ren saw his chance. He knew he cut an imposing figure in the domino, and the crowd parted before his tall frame. "If my Lord does not mind," he said, bowing gallantly and doffing his hat, "I would be honored to play at his table."
Charmwynder's eyes narrowed and then scanned him up and down. "You are not from these parts, I gather…sir…?"
"Tsuruga," Ren said. "Ren Tsuruga, Captain of the Privateer Galahad."
"Privateer, eh?" Charmwynder replied. "What brought you to our dusty little gathering?"
"My crew wanted reprieve from their stale bunks, and we were in the area, my Lord," he said. "And then I heard of your august self hosting this glittering soiree." In the crowd, Ren saw Yashiro roll his eyes. He smiled a dazzling smile at his host, visible beneath the half-mask his domino offered. "It does not disappoint. Why, even parties on Angeles are nothing to this!"
Charmwynder flushed and smiled and preened, pleased at Tsuruga's praise. That might've been too easy, Ren thought. But nothing to do but go for it now. "You are quite welcome at our gathering, Captain," he said. "But I warn you, I am a formidable player."
"I am no slouch myself, sir," Ren replied with an easy smile. "They say the game gets better with those that have great skill. All too often I play and win too easily."
"Ahh a seasoned player, I see." Charmwynder's smile was predatory. Ren knew he had to win the man over. Act like a skilled opponent, Ren thought, but lose to him.
"And also lucky, my Lord," Ren replied. "A privateer must be seasoned and lucky in these degenerate times."
"These degenerate times indeed!" the Baron laughed. "See to it. I hope you have enough blunt to cover your wagers this evening, Captain. We do not take kindly to unpaid debts of honor here on Armandy."
Honor, Ren thought. Ha. But out loud he said, "You will not find me lacking, I'm sure."
Fox had given him some Armandy credits—enough to look the part of a well-off man, but Ren knew he'd need to flash far more money than what he'd been given to achieve the result he wanted tonight. Fortunately, he had a vast fortune in Hizuran credits available on his personal comm—he hadn't touched the obscene largesse his father had given him on his departure, and with the interest on it, it had compounded daily. He hadn't even needed it to cover expenses on the Galahad, which was largely a self-sufficient, even a profitable, operation. He knew he could buy and sell the Baron a hundred times over without blinking. It was one of the perks of being the galaxy's richest son. The Baron started the betting at five hundred guilders, looking at Ren in challenge as he did. The crowd gasped. Even for the Baron's table, five hundred guilders was too much. It was far more than all the prior gamers who'd played that evening—and the Baron never lost.
But Ren had expected an obnoxiously large first bet. "Call," he said, and nonchalantly transferred the amount via his commlink. The crowd oooh'd as the amount appeared on the display. The Baron only grinned. "I love a man of substance," he said. "Very well. Roll the dice."
The dice were rolled, and they were dealt the cards. Ren was unsurprised to note that he had lost—the Baron showed threes, he only had a scant pair. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "Looks like you won the first hand."
"Looks like I did," the man said. "Will you play a second? It would be terribly disappointing to lose you as an opponent after a single hand."
"I would by no means curtail any pleasure of yours, my Lord. I am loath to disappoint such a gracious host," Ren replied. He was handed a glass of wine and raised it in a toast. "To Luck!" he said. The retinal contacts he wore indicated that they were fortified—a higher percentage of alcohol than would otherwise be found in the beverage, but otherwise no other intoxicants to impair his judgment. A fair ploy, he thought, much more fair than I expected. He supposed it would be easier to truly drug him once he was in his cups. He'd taken a toxin absorber, though—an expensive metabolic fix—but one that he figured would serve him well tonight. So far, the Baron had not cheated, and Ren thought that perhaps he'd get a reprieve on the first hand. Let him think the good Captain would be easy to incapacitate, then. It was a test, Ren thought. The real game starts now.
"To Luck!" Charmwynder returned. The crowd echoed him. "To Luck!" they all cried.
Ren downed his cup, and the Baron did the same. He saw glances between the Baron's retainers tableside.
"Your bet," the Baron sang.
Ren sat back in his chair, exuding ease and nonchalance. The crowd gasped when the display screen displayed a thousand guilders.
"Ha!" Charmwinder said. "Are you quite sure, Captain? Privateering must pay a lot these days."
"I've had some good contracts come my way," Ren grinned. "What better way to double my winnings than with such a delightful personage as yourself?"
"Very well. I will see your bet, sir." The crowd cheered.
The cards were drawn and the dice rolled. Predictably, the Baron drew a superior hand, and Ren folded. But he was watching the man.
Hands were to be revealed at the same time, but the Baron always delayed just a few seconds. Perhaps through a superfluous gesture, like a flourish of his hand, or a yawn—but it was something that allowed him to scope out the competitor's opposing hand and…adjust…accordingly. Yes, Ren thought, the targeted EMP will do nicely. "It seems as if my Lady Luck has not yet joined me this evening," Ren said.
"It would seem as if the Lady has defected, Captain," Charmwynder said.
"Surely not," Ren said. "I have faith she'll return to my side, my Lord."
"Enough faith, then, for another round?"
Ren merely gestured forward, and the Baron laughed. "You're a very interesting man, Captain, I'll give you that. What say you?" Two taps with his finger, and a new bet was made.
Another gasp rippled through the crowd as the screen revealed a two-thousand-guilder bet.
But Ren just shrugged. His matching bet dinged on the screen as mouths dropped. This time, the Baron would not get his way. The cards were drawn and played and revealed, and Ren activated the nanoscreen auxiliary, revealing a Minor Cascade. The screen would remain fixed for as long as Ren remained in the vicinity of the cards or released them.
He grinned at the Baron, who had revealed his hand just a little too late. "Looks like my Lady has returned, Lord," he said.
"Well well, so it does," the man said. Ren could tell he was upset. A flush was rising on his cheek—his 'hand' had been good, but clearly he had thought to play conservatively. Ren kept his grin on his face.
"No hard feelings, eh, Baron, sir?" he said.
The Baron was fighting hard to keep a scowl off his face. "Of course not, Captain. But you'll have to indulge me in playing another hand."
"Of course."
The game was well and truly afoot now. The Baron bet, Ren called, the stakes rose. People crowded around their table and the gaming monitors, aghast at the sheer numbers they were seeing. Ren won and then readily lost a few more hands, baiting the Baron further and further in through his treasury. By the time the bets hit a million guilders, he could see people in the crowd simply shaking their heads in disbelief. Ren had plenty more to bet, though the money Fox had sent with him was long gone.
Finally, Ren saw the Baron begin to hesitate. The bets were set at two million guilders, and tension was thick in the air. "Do you truly have these guilders!?" the Baron asked.
"Do you?" Ren returned with a smirk. "My lord, you know as well as I do the funds are held in escrow."
But the Baron was smirking back. "I wonder…"
"Yes?"
"It seems to me that you aren't particularly concerned about your guilders."
"It's just money. It comes and goes."
"Why don't we up the stakes?"
Ren leaned in. Things are getting interesting here, he sent to Fox. Where are you on the Plan? Out loud, he said "Up the stakes? Sounds interesting. Tell me more."
Distract him! We've been spotted. Need to—
"If you don't care about your guilders, Captain, perhaps you ought to bet something that you do care about."
"And will you do the same, my Lord?" he retorted.
"Your ship. Would you wager your ship?" The Baron looked as if he expected Ren to say no.
"What would you do with my ship?" he asked. "Last I checked, you have an entire planet."
"Just because," the Baron said. "Do I need a reason?"
Ren had a group of do-gooders to protect, and he couldn't resist. "My ship is precious to me. She's my means of livelihood, after all. What do you have that would be worth that much?"
"Five million guilders." Ren watched one of Charmwynder's ministers—likely finance—faint.
Ren laughed. The true cost of the Galahad was well beyond five million guilders. The Galahad was one-of-a-kind, an advanced prototype, a vanity project…a treasure. And she had been specifically imprinted to the prince. No one else could pilot the Galahad without Ren's express authorization—or cause it to self-destruct. It could kill intruders on-board on demand, too.
"Five million for my ship?" Ren scoffed. "Are you joking? It's worth far more than that."
"Come now. My men saw it at the docks. It's a rustbucket."
"It has an umbar drive," he said, softly, so only the Baron could hear it.
That gave the Baron pause. Not much information had been found on this Captain Tsuruga character—he supposed the ship had been towed over by a larger freighter. Most ships made transgalaxy crossings using large holding freighters with large berths and industrial umbar-drives. Once ships were in-system, they used more conventional fuels. A small privately-owned ship with an umbar drive was far more unusual—those were usually bespoke affairs, and only available to the wildly wealthy. He looked at the Captain with shrewd interest. "What do you propose, then?"
Ren gave a predatory grin. "I saw a water transport docked spaceside when we first came in." He paused and took a long draught from the wine he'd been drinking. "I want the water. All of it."
The Baron looked puzzled. "The water? You know the water isn't terribly easy to lug around the galaxy, don't you?"
"Of course it's not. But I want it just because," Ren drawled, echoing his words from earlier. "Do I need a reason?"
The Baron laughed uproariously, but Ren noticed the nervous tapping his left foot was doing. Almost certainly he was planning on utilizing the wrist device. Ren looked up into Yashiro's eyes, paced a yard, perhaps two, behind the Baron and smiled as the man gave an imperceptible nod. They were ready.
"Agreed, then?" the Baron asked. "Your ship and my water."
"Agreed."
The crowd was buzzing quietly, their earlier exuberance dampened by the enormity of the betting. This was definitely not normal. Even those of them who considered themselves part of the Baron's coterie knew that betting the newest shipment of water would have downstream effects—nobles, by and large, had adequate stores. Even so, having this water diverted would mean…going without. For some, it would no doubt mean going without a long, luxurious bath. For others, it would mean that the garden they were cultivating would not have a running water feature. Ren didn't feel particularly bad for them. They had enough to drink.
Despite the Baron's overwhelming "luck" that evening, a wave of unease made its way through the crowd. The Baron's appetite for the cards and the dice was well-known, and the local nobility had long thought of their losses at his table as a way to funnel bribes to their Baron through publicly acceptable means. Everyone knew the Baron cheated—no one could be that lucky. But this…this was lunacy. The stranger had won more than the usual share tonight, and they could see that Charmwynder had grown more upset with every losing hand. And Armandy had never been a particularly prosperous settlement—had this stranger accepted the five million guilder bet, would Armandy's coffers be emptied upon his win? The Baron had been popular amongst the elite, but he'd won that popularity by ensuring their hands were well-greased. They remembered, perhaps a little too late, how the prior Baron had ruled with temperance and fairness. Even if no real grass carpeted their holdings, they had been content enough. That Baron would surely never dare to wager an entire planet's worth of water. Now, they began to question whether or not they had been right to allow this Baron to terminate his Regency and install himself in power. Surely a true Charmwynder heir had survived amongst the cadet branches of that family line.
The Baron was oblivious to the unease of the crowd around him. He grinned, rubbed his hands, blew on the dice, kissed them. It's all a show, Ren thought, to distract me from the sleight of hand he wants to do with that wrist device of his. In contrast, Ren threw the dice with little fanfare. In the end, it wouldn't make much difference—whatever the Baron drew, Ren would win.
The cards were dealt.
Anonymous in the crowd, Yashiro deployed a tiny pulse that disabled the Baron's device.
Simultaneously, Ren deployed the nanoscreen aux on both his cards and the Baron's.
Ren saw the Baron's distress when he realized the little wrist device was no longer providing him with the cards he needed—but then the distress transfigured itself into shock and then joy. "I'm afraid you'll have to book transport for you and your crew off-planet, Captain," he said. He flipped his cards. "An imperial cascade!" he crowed. Ren couldn't help but watch him from across the table. There was only one hand which trumped the imperial cascade, and that was—
"The Hand of Fate," Ren said, flipping his cards over. He was wearing a predatory grin. "I'm afraid it'll be you, Baron, who will have to deliver what I'm owed."
"What!?" the Baron cried. "That's not…that's not possible, I—"
"Cheated?" Ren said it casually, but loudly. The crowd, which had been watching the proceedings with bated breath, broke out in horrified pandemonium.
"How dare you!" Charmwinder retorted. "Another hand, Tsuruga, another!" The Baron was in a complete panic. Ren knew why—the device which he'd relied on, likely for years, was dead. Charmwynder was frantically fiddling with it, all but bashing it on the betting table as it sat, unresponsive, on his wrist. He looked up at Ren, only to realize that the entire crowd had seen him fling off the gauntlet of his costume and display the device for all the world to see. Even if the fact that the Baron cheated at cards was well known through the Barony of Armandy, seeing it flaunted before their eyes caused no small amount of anger in the crowd.
"I have no desire to play another hand with someone who has dishonored me so," Ren said, pointing at the device. "Were any of your wins tonight at all legitimate?" he asked.
"Of course they were!" the incensed Baron responded. He was flushed red and sweating profusely. "YOU cheated. YOU! It must have been YOU!"
"Me? Cheat?" Ren raised both the sleeves of his costume, revealing unadorned wrists beneath.
"CHEATER!" someone in the crowd cried. "CHEATER!" more voices responded.
The Baron looked all around him, at the crush of bodies around, and was unable to speak. "All of you have seen fit to dine and amuse yourselves at my table," he yelled to the crowd. "Do not insult me in my own home."
That incensed the crowd even further. Ren, assessing, knew that they could turn at any second. The crowd would have to be appeased somehow…but how?
Status? he messaged Fox.
Still need a few minutes. Yashiro's been keeping me updated. Keep doing what you're doing, was the response.
Ren stood. In his black cape and domino, he towered over the crowd. "I have no desire to take the water with me," he declared. "And therefore I gift it to the people of the Armandy Spaceport, who showed me hospitality upon my arrival. We will establish a water allocation committee for the disbursement."
The declaration silenced them all. The Baron was also standing, but was significantly shorter than Ren was. It had certainly distracted them from the anger that was brewing over the Baron's cheating, and yet had also taken them aback.
"You must be joking," the Baron said. "And in any case, the water was never mine to wager. It belongs to the Barony of Armandy, and as such, I had no right to submit it as a bet. The last match is forfeit. Let us play another hand."
Nice try, Ren thought. "Come now, Baron," Ren said. "You and I both know that you signed a full affidavit attesting your ability to bet only what was yours. And you know very well that the Barony of Armandy is an unlimited fiefdom. The Baron of Armandy makes the rules. You know as well as I do that your bet was valid and legal." Ren paused, and Charmwynder felt his disdain. "As to whether it ought to be legal, I leave to your governance and your people. But I expected no less than this poorly thought-out ploy to bilk me out of my own ship." He smiled coldly at the Baron, who gulped as Ren glared at him through his mask. "...from a thief…" Ren began advancing towards the Baron, who stood frozen as Ren came closer. "...a usurper…" Another step. "...a murderer…"
"What…what are you talking about?" Charmwynder was retreating backwards, away from Ren. Dread was eating at him. "How D-DARE y-you c-call me a murderer…!"
"Do you deny it?"
"Deny WHAT?"
"The fact that you murdered Daniel and Kaede Haneda," Ren responded simply.
"WHO?" the Baron asked.
Ren tilted his head, looking down at him sadly. "And you don't even remember their names," he said, shaking his head.
"I will not be spoken to in such an infamous fashion." Charmwynder drew himself up to his full height, such as it was, and then drew the gauntlet from his costume. "I challenge you to a duel, Tsuruga. For offenses against my honor."
Tsuruga laughed. "THIS I'll let you retract, my Lord," he said. "You are not in your right mind."
"First you call me a murderer, and then you question my sanity? How dare you, offworlder!" The gauntlet flew down onto the table, atop cards still displaying Ren's Hand of Fate. Charmwynder fumed, as if they were an affront to him personally. He glared at Ren, clearly expecting an answer.
Fox, how long till you're at the door? Ren sent the message via comm. He dearly wanted a chance to give the Baron a drubbing, but not at the expense of Fox's plans.
Maybe fifteen minutes, the response came. See if you can get a confession. Will you accept his challenge?
Could be entertaining for the folks watching, Ren responded.
You're sure you can take him on?
Kid, I'm a pirate, Ren sent. What the hell kind of question is that?
Had to check.
Fine. I'll give them a little show. Comm me when you're outside, Ren thought. I'll get him on the ground right when you're ready to come in. Let's make your entrance flashy.
"I'll give you one more chance to retract, Baron," Ren said. The levity was gone from his face. "A duel is no child's play. Come. Follow the Code and apologize."
It was the Baron's turn to laugh. "Apologize? For your defamation of my character? Some privateer you are, Tsuruga," he said. "Too cowardly, perhaps? Too scared of nobility?"
"Hardly defamation," Ren said. "Truth is an absolute defense to defamation, and you know what I have said is true. And I can well and truly prove my statements against you if your people would but charge you with your crimes. But…if you insist…" he said, and drew back his cloak. "I accept your challenge."
"Choose your weapons," the Baron spat, "though I do not wish to postpone the drubbing you are about to receive."
Ren shook his head. "I, too, do not wish to delay," Ren said. "Have the crowd clear a space for us." He paused, then said, "I choose swords."
"Are you sure, pirate? Gentlemen use swords. Some godforsaken by-blow like you should probably use a blaster. Are you adequately trained in the use of a blade?"
"I suppose you shall see soon enough, Lord."
"ARROWSMIIIIITH!" the Baron cried, and soon enough, a harried-looking footman arrived holding a leather case which opened to reveal two gleaming swords in a velvet-lined case. They were old—far older than the Baron. Ren whistled. These were truly heirlooms, fashioned in the old style and beautifully made. He looked at the chased silver embellishing the handguards, seeing the old Charmwynder crest and seal on them.
"See them and recognize the ancestral blades of the Charmwynders," the Baron said.
"I am glad you treasure the blades of your stepfather, Baron, as we both know you aren't a Charmwynder yourself."
The Baron hissed. Ren merely looked at him mockingly before turning his attention to the weapons.
Ren tested first one blade and then the other. He executed a single kata with one, and then another, watching it slice through the air with a practiced eye. He hadn't known what he was getting into with choosing blades, particularly with the Baron supplying the weapons. And yet the sword was the best way to engage the Baron in the kind of show that Fox needed. Blasters would be over too soon, and could potentially ricochet into the crowd with a stray beam. Hand-to-hand combat would work, too—but there was something dignified about swords. He was half-afraid that what the Baron would have on-hand would be gaudy toys—the kind of 'blades' that were mere slabs of faulty metal that were gilt and made for display. But upon picking up one of the two, he noted that in fact that they were extremely well made, well balanced…and sharp.
The Baron watched him assess the blades and paled. He fancied himself as a swordsman. He'd received weekly lessons under his stepfather's arms master in his adolescence, and then continued casual practice with various bodyguards over the years. Lately, his practice had gone by the wayside as he became more corpulent—but he knew he was competent. The body did not forget the basic forms, right? At least not once they'd been drilled in? But as he watched the privateer practice his forms, he thought, for the first time, Oh, perhaps that was not such a good idea after all.
It was unfortunate that he could not have known that he happened to be facing the Hizuri prince. Unfortunate, because Ren had been drilled in the ways of combat since he could walk, and by some of the best teachers in the galaxy. Unfortunate in that Ren was considered by some to be one of the most accomplished swordsmen in modern times. And it was unfortunate that due to his rage-blinded-state, he could not see the peril he was in.
There was still time for him to cry pardon and retract his statement. And yet he knew if he did so, the populace would consider his backing down as not just proof of his cowardice, but also proof of his guilt. For the first time in a long time, he considered the possibility of his brother having survived the fiery crash that had killed the people who'd been fostering him. He'd merely believed the henchman that had told him the body had been burnt to a crisp—he hadn't verified himself, as he was a squeamish man. People had not questioned the fact that no body had ever been produced for his brother—he'd stated that the body had been too mangled for public viewing.
Ren's insult echoed in his ears. Not a Charmwynder…Not a Charmwynder…he repeated over and over again.
"I am a Baron and the ruler of this land," Charmwynder said, "And I will not be spoken to in such an infamous fashion."
"Are you the Baron, Erend?" Ren asked. "Last I heard, you were the Regent."
"My brother DIED, you…you…"
"Enough," Ren said. "I am ready, and I have chosen my blade. Will you clear a space, Baron?"
The crowd had already begun to part, scattering off of the gambling dais and to the walls to make room for the pirate and the Baron's duel. The tension in the air had risen—Ren could see Fox's operatives standing at attention, watching with interest in their eyes. The other nobility—Ren thought of them as the Baron's 'people'—were watching speculatively. He wouldn't be surprised if the crowd had already begun making bets on who would win the fight.
"I demand a clean fight," the Baron said desperately. "Who knows what you could have lurking in that voluminous shirt of yours?"
"I'm sure I don't have nearly as many gadgets in my shirts as you do, Baron," Ren said with a smirk. It was true—his bioscreen, personal shield, retinal displays—all of them were powered by biomechanical processes and were all but invisible to someone who was unfamiliar with Angelan high technology. "A man who cheats at cards wouldn't be above cheating in a duel, so I'm afraid I had already taken your propensity for unfair play into account, sir."
"So you admit to using devices to give you an advantage!" Charmwynder cried.
"Hardly."
"And yet you wear a shirt large enough to hide a battalion."
Ren scoffed and then stripped off his shirt. The costume had large, voluminous sleeves, it was true—useful for concealing his movement, perhaps, but a liability where duels were concerned. He was certain it wouldn't have made a difference to the outcome, but he knew he'd be more comfortable without the shirt. And if it had the added benefit of shutting the Baron up, or removing doubt as to the outcome of the duel, then stripping simply made sense. In any case, his personal body shield sat over his skin invisibly, and whether or not a shirt was over it made no difference.
He handed the shirt to Kijima, who was acting as his silent second.
Ladies in the room swooned.
The Baron gulped at the sight of the Captain standing at ease. The smirk on his face told Charmwynder that he'd known what effect the removal of his shirt would have. The man had looked tall and imposing before, sure. But without his shirt on, it was evident that he was made entirely of muscle—he was a pillar of molded flesh. It was the kind of body nothing but years of work could build. The Baron's more reasonable mind knew that he shouldn't have challenged him at all—a voice inside was blaring alarms, saying It isn't too late to call this off. But an impudent devil in him kept his bravado up.
The Baron followed suit, removing the "armor" that had formed his costume. He didn't go so far as to remove the shirt underneath, causing some to murmur in the crowd regarding basic fairness. It behooved the Baron to remove his shirt, as well, if only to prove he was wearing no devices to allow him an advantage. After the scene revealing the device he'd used to cheat at cards, the crowd felt, it was only fair that the Baron follow the Captain's suit and remove his shirt. The Baron, having grown more corpulent as he'd aged into his thirties, knew he'd compare unfavorably to the Captain. He felt overgrown…flabby…sluggish.
Ren looked at him and sighed. His sense of sportsmanship compelled him to ask one last time. "Again, Baron, I ask: will you apologize?"
And again, the Baron said, "No."
Ren shook his head. "Your pride will be your downfall."
They squared off. The gaming room hushed—where the nobility had laughed and chatted, there was now tense silence. The Baron and Ren stood on the dais where the Holdings table, now removed, had been set. They were plainly visible to all in the room, and everyone could see the sweat that lined the Baron's brow.
Ren took a casual stance, standing easily. To a casual onlooker, he would have appeared almost at rest—hardly someone who was about to start a duel.
Arrowsmith, the footman, called out the rules. "A fair duel today, between the Challenger, Baron Erend Charmwynder," he said, "and the Challenged, Captain Ren Tsuruga. The winner shall be he who disarms or draws first blood from his opponent. Do you agree?"
The two men nodded, Ren almost lazily. He maintained his nonchalant appearance. He was holding his sword at his side, almost as if he were readying himself for a walk in the park and not a duel. It enraged the Baron.
Is he not taking this seriously? Charmwynder thought. Am I a joke to him? The Captain looked unprepared, unwary, too relaxed. So perhaps the Baron could not be blamed for making the first move. The crowd saw it first and gasped—it was the move the Baron was most proud of, one he'd called 'the Lightning Flash' in his youth. He'd even been known to brag about it once or twice in the drawing rooms of his palace. He started from his end of the dais, tucked his shoulders and his arms in, pointing his sword straight as he ran as quickly as he could to Tsuruga with an eye to his jugular. Certainly, the rules had been to disarm or draw first blood—but surely the Baron could not be blamed for trying to get one over on a threatening opponent?
Ren saw him coming and groaned inwardly. He's trying that? he thought. It was the kind of move an amateur might make—someone who'd spent too much time watching the holoscreens or the playersim. He schooled his face into impassivity and let the Baron come. He couldn't disarm him too quickly, after all, that would ruin the effect of Fox's entrance. Repel him, Ren thought, but don't repel him too hard.
Later on, those that had been present would say that at first it seemed as if Ren hadn't moved at all. They would say that the Baron came like an out-of-control avalanche—but that Ren had moved so quickly all anyone saw was the glint of his sword as he repelled the Baron back a few feet. Ren had calculated his force just so, enough to ensure that the Baron would be well and truly able to remain standing, and in possession of his weapon, upon contact. It had been more difficult than he'd realized to hold back—in truth, Ren pretended he was giving a child lessons.
But the nonchalance with which Ren dispatched him only fueled the Baron's rage. The man came at Ren, over and over again—sword held above, then below, then sideways. Ren was a picture of stillness—keeping his feet and his body centered and still as the Baron buffeted him ineffectually. He was looking around him, watching Fox's operatives make moves to consolidate around the room's egress points…and watching the Baron's bodyguards, too, who were looking increasingly worried as their master grunted through the duel like an enraged pig. What the crowd saw was simultaneously brilliant but also incomprehensible—the Baron kept attacking, Ren kept parrying in moves that were too quick to see. He made repelling the Baron look so easy some of Fox's operatives wondered why they simply hadn't challenged the Baron to a duel before. Things would certainly have been easier had they known how incompetent he was.
"Stop insulting me and fight like a man!" the Baron shouted. The Baron knew he was being played with, and he didn't care for it at all.
Ren vaguely considered answering, but kept his peace. His masters had always taught him not to use energy unnecessarily, and that meant not wasting motion in combat—or making useless conversation. It was far better to be still and observe your opponent.
Tsuruga, he heard on the comm. It was Fox.
Finally, Ren sent back. Are you ready?
We're in position. I'll await the signal from Yashiro.
Don't hold your breath. I'd say be ready in 10 seconds.
"YEAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!" the Baron cried. He was tiring, and the sweat was pooling off of his back. Tsuruga, on the other hand, remained as cool as when he'd started.
It was time.
Ren dropped the casual stance and faced the Baron head on. Charmwynder was taken aback, but by now his forward momentum was unstoppable. Ren brought up his sword to block Charmwynder's overhead stroke, and then with a single movement of his arm, flicked Charmwynder to the floor as if he were made of paper. The blunt edge of Ren's sword had caught Charmwynder's arm, causing his opponent to lose the sword. Up, up, up went Eren Charmwynder's sword, and when it landed, it fell in a perfect parabola right in Ren's hand.
"You have been disarmed," Ren said to the panting Baron. Though he held two swords now, only one was pointed at the Baron's throat.
The Baron merely spat at him ineffectually.
"Do you yield?" Ren asked.
The Baron glared at him, looking small and mean and petty as he lay on the ground.
"Nev—"
A motion from the main doors distracted him, and the Baron's eyes widened as Fox wandered in flanked by a set of nobles and a number of people who looked as if they'd come directly from the Spaceport settlement.
"I would yield, brother, if I were you," said Fox, "Tsuruga's rather good at this."
The Baron paled and gasped. "You—it can't be you—you're dead!"
"I assure you," responded Fox, "rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated." He took a step further into the room, and the nobles in it parted before him.
"I am Eric Charmwynder, called Fox while in exile," he said. "And I have come to claim the Barony of Armandy from a usurper and pretender."
People in the room who remembered his father never thought to challenge that assertion. Fox was the very picture of the prior Baron, down to the hazel eyes on his face.
"You're a pretender," the deposed Baron said from the floor. "The real Eric is dead. I saw the charred remains of the car myself…!"
Fox looked at him. He knew that his parentage was easily proven, and Erend did, too. All it would take was a single pinprick of blood, and the rightful Baron would be clearly identified.
"Erend Charmwynder," he said, "I charge you with the murder of my foster parents, Daniel and Kaede Haneda—as well as my own attempted murder. I further charge you with graft, corruption, and assault."
The deposed Baron sat on the ground and protested, kicking and screaming as two of Fox's grey-clad men secured him and placed manacles on his wrists. Around the room, similar scenes were taking place. People had been so caught up with the duel between Ren and Charmwynder that they had failed to notice the unfamiliar beginning to coalesce just behind them. Fox had directed people to arrest those that had clearly profited from the Baron's corruption—consequently, many of those that had been the most vocally supportive of the Baron were finding themselves under arrest.
"Are you going to kill me?" the Baron asked. He wasn't sure who he was asking—this Eric pretender was clearly leading the force that had protected him.
"I myself will not kill you, little brother," he said, "but you will stand trial according to the customary laws of Armandy, and we will be meting out whatever justice that court requires."
Ren did not lower his sword until he was certain the Baron was well and truly secured. Only then did he seek out Yashiro and Kijima.
=.=.=.=.=
Two days after the duel's conclusion, Ren lay back in his bed trying to make sense of it all.
The rest of Fox's coup went well, he thought. In the end, everything went according to plan. The nobles who had sided with the Baron had quickly disowned him following his disgrace, and were quick to pledge fealty to Fox. The data hack had not, in fact, been a decoy—and Fox had used that time to acquire not just the blackmail materials on the Baron's supporters but also access to the Barony's funds and planetary systems. And Fox had been true to his word—the Baron was to face justice as meted out by the courts of Armandy. Jurors would be selected from all parts of society. Meanwhile, the 'Baron,' as Ren liked to think of him, had been placed in the Spaceport's jail. Reports of his temper tantrums were already spreading a scant two standard Sols after the infamous duel.
Ren moved quickly to verify his ownership of the water rights and established a committee for its distribution under Kojiro, who many at the Spaceport already knew and respected.
And now Ren was back in his quarters, the water supply topped off with thanks. Kijima and Yashiro, having gorged themselves on the hors d'oeuvres at the Baron's masquerade, were resigned once again to eating reconstituted beans. They would be leaving at the next sunrise, going back to galaxy center. Perhaps there would be something more interesting than working as a bodyguard ship for a space cruise.
Now, he was in his quarters with his first 'true' independent accomplishment, and he was clutching his half of the iolite comm stone he'd given her.
Kyoko—his one true love who had not spoken to him in years. His one true love who was even now engaged to some shipping conglomerate's heir. He swallowed the bitterness for what must have been the millionth time and fought back the grief. It would do no good for him, now, to wonder why she'd changed her mind. Whether it was because her father had died, or whether it was because she'd fallen in love with someone else—he didn't want to know.
But he couldn't help but think about her. Don't contact me again. Such a short farewell, after a lifetime of belonging to each other. Was an explanation too much to ask for?
Kyoko would have loved this, Ren thought. He had to believe that. In the time before her half of the comm stone had grown silent, Ren knew she would have loved hearing about this adventure. "Kyoko," he'd say, "listen—" and he'd tell her all about the Baron, and his charges and his ineffectual strikes. She would have laughed to hear of it, and then cried to hear how Kojiro had been dehydrated to the point of illness. And then, perhaps, she would've grown silent and then the image of her would turn to him with large eyes while she said something profound—something like "Doesn't it ever bother you, Kuon, how some are born to rule while others are born poor? Isn't it strange after so many years of self-determination being the primary form of government on Old Terra, we'd revert back to hereditary hegemonies?" And then they would have argued political philosophy late into the night…and at the end of it, he'd hear her say I love you.
Was she telling Sho Fuwa 'I love you' now?
He closed his eyes and forced himself to sleep.
The next day would bring more adventure.
=.=.=.=.=.=