Author's Corner:

You know the drill, just read (review is optional, jk). Due to popular demand, I will be adding touches toward a Tactician/Lyn pairing. However, I'm quite a newbie at the romance genre, so don't sue me if I mess this up royally (Which I hope I won't).

DotDotDotman – I'm glad you like the candle mark idea and the series of exchanges. In regards to your question regarding when they'll learn about Drake's past, I'll give you a brief hint. Where did Drake come from and who else in FE7 comes from there as well?

Dude – Updating soon, but work gets in the way somewhat.

Dias of All Final – I haven't seen you in a while. Thanks for your compliments on my tactical plans. And as per your (and other people's) requests, this will move in the Tactician/Lyn direction.

Hammer of Terrascars – Chapter 11

Pirate's Wager

April 13th, on the streets of Badon,

This has to be one of the few times that I have visited Badon without a ring of bodyguards armed to the teeth. Well, I guess I can count in a nervous Lyn with a sword at my back, but that's pretty much all the support I'll get in the event of a trouble. Badon's reputation for chaos and cutthroats were far more infamous than even Araphen, and probably was second to none throughout Elibe. As a port town plagued by pirates and rogues, there was virtually no security or pledge of safe conduct short of having an armed crowd around you. Well, I guess you can count in 'honor among thieves,' if that even exists.

"I take it that you've never been to Badon before," Drake commented.

Lyn shook her head, "I never thought I would actually come here of my own free will."

While Hector, Eliwood, and Cecilia had left to procure a passage to Valor, Drake and Lyn were sitting near the docks watching the tide roll in. Half a dozen large vessels were moored at the various docks, of which two were undergoing repairs. Countless fishing boats and small craft also lined the wharves, but obviously they were ill-equipped to ferry a small army overseas. Naturally, when there were idle ships, there also idle sailors, several of which could be eyeing Lyn openly.

One of them whistled, "Look at that one over there."

"She's a fine catch," another agreed, "Hey, girlie, how about you come have some fun with us?"

Lyn bristled at the raucous laughter accompanying that remark, and would've drawn her sword had not Drake put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she looked at him and sighed, "I know, I know, chopping people into fish bait over idle banter is hardly seemly on the streets."

Drake favored her with a grin, "You're learning quickly."

"I had a good mentor," Lyn replied with a smile of her own, "And my father taught me a swordswoman's mantra."

"Fierce as the scorching flame," Drake tried to recall when he had last read the hymn himself.

"Swift as the howling winds," she replied.

Drake continued, "Illusive as the myriad forests…"

"Stalwart as the imposing mountains," Lyn finished, "Did I forget anything?"

"Actually, I think you did," Drake said after a moment's reflection, "If the mantra ended there, the verses would be appropriate for a male swordmaster."

Lyn thought back, and then shook her head, "I can't remember what the last one was."

Drake looked at her out of the corner of his eye, "That is because you don't compliment yourself very often, Lyn, and the fifth law does not do justice to your beauty," he whispered softly, "Sweeter than forbidden fruit."

Lyn blinked in astonishment, a rosy red spreading across her cheeks as she gazed towards the ground. She was still gathering her befuddled wits as Drake got up and left, never turning around to see the effects of his words. Staring after his figure, Lyn tried to mull through her confusion, Drake is hardly the one I'd believe to be flirtatious a womanizer, the Drake I know always speaks the truth. But in that case…

"Lyn?"

Lyn started at the sudden interruption to her musings. Turning around, she saw Florina with Serra and Matthew in tow. Trying to calm her rampant emotions, Lyn managed to ask, "What is it?"

"Lord Eliwood and the others have returned to the inn," Florina said, "They're all waiting for you and Drake. Speaking of which, have you seen Drake at all?"

Lyn almost blushed, but stammered, "N-no, I haven't."

Serra huffed angrily, "I know he is a great tactician and leader, but it is simply rude to allow noble ladies such as us wait for him!"

Matthew gagged at that comment, but regained his composure before Serra turned an icy glare on him, "Then I suggest we head back to the Leaping Leviathan. I wager that Drake will even beat us back there!"

True to Matthew's assertion, Drake was clearly visible at the Leaping Leviathan, deep in conversation with Cecilia, Hector and Eliwood. The four of them greeted Lyn, but Drake made no allusion to their previous conversation. Lyn, seeing that he avoided the topic, did not press him for an explanation, "So what happened?"

"No luck," Hector growled, "Every single one of these captains is too cowardly to sail for the Dread Isle. They believe that those bound for Valor will not return alive."

"Apparently that is true so far," Cecilia groaned, "Only two ships ventured remotely close to Valor, and no one has seen head or tails of their crews again."

"Aye buckos, ye won't get anywhere using those landlubbers."

Everyone turned to look at the new voice, only to discover that it belonged to a giant of a man wearing a bandanna and sporting a grey beard. The man took a long swig from his tankard before casting a weather eye over Eliwood's group, "No foolish fisherman will eva tempt his skin to sail the uncharted seas."

"And you're different?" Hector asked, annoyed by the man's tone.

"Of course he is," Drake spoke for the first time, "A pirate ship is far sturdier than a merchant craft."

Eliwood, Hector, Lyn, and Cecilia all looked at Drake in astonishment while the pirate smirked, "Name's Fargus, and I would bet ma life that you've dealt with us sea scum before."

"That's a bet you'd win," Drake replied, "You're willing to take us to Valor?"

"For the right price," was the reply, but Drake caught Fargus' eye at the word price.

"How much is that?" Hector asked.

Fargus snorted at that, "I'll take you for a hundred grand. Take it or leave it."

Eliwood slammed his hand on the table, "Done!"

"You're a terrible liar," Fargus laughed, "You don't have the gold."

"Give us a moment and we will," Eliwood said as he dragged Hector out of the inn.

"Yo Dart!" Fargus barked, "Keep those two naïve fools out of sight until after the real bargaining is done."

"Aye, aye captain!"

Lyn looked at Drake, "The real bargaining?"

"Whew, do ma eyes deceive me, or do we have a real goddess in the house?" Fargus said.

Lyn scowled, but calmed down after Drake waved his hand slightly.

"You never take a pirate's word at face value, Lyn," Drake replied, "When you're on their quarterdeck, you play by their rules."

Fargus guffawed, "Finally, a landlubber who knows the tricks of the trade."

"I'll inform Lord Eliwood and Lord Hector then," Cecilia said, getting up.

After Cecilia left, Lyn asked, "So what do you mean by price then?"

Fargus took another draught of beer, "Pirates aren't always out for booty or blood, missus. Sometimes, the lull of fame or fun is enough to stir our roots. What I propose is a Pirate's Wager." He gave a long look at Drake.

"Pirate's Wager?" Lyn asked.

Drake smirked, "The Badon Challenge of Champions?"

Fargus smiled broadly, "Ah, so ye know what I'm talking about. If you can defeat the five champions, we'll give you a lift to Valor."

Lyn looked towards Drake for an explanation, so he obliged, "The Challenge of Champions is a tourney held annually at Badon's arena. Every year, five of the most famous fighters in Badon are honor bound to hold a challenge to all comers. However, in order to challenge them, you need a full complement of five members. No man may fight two battles, and whichever side has the more victories is declared the victor of the contest."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," Lyn said, "We can just deploy Hector, Kent, Marcus, Sain, and…"

"Hold, missus," Fargus said, raising a hand, "Since this is a Pirate's Wager, I'll be choosing from yer participants."

"What?" Lyn asked in surprise.

"Heh, I trade five fights for a hundred grand," Fargus pointed out, "That's your advantage. Ma advantage is I choose your representatives. All fair and no complaints, eh?"

"It'll be alright, Lyn," Drake said, "We'll agree to the terms, provided that you don't intentionally send someone who is incapable of fighting such as a cleric."

Fargus laughed, "Heh, I won't do that, what's the fun of watching a slaughter? You have ma word as a pirate."

"In that case, might I join your party?"

Drake and Lyn looked up to see a young man wearing a monocle and carrying a book under his arm descending the stairs. His pale face offset his dark hair and obsidian robes.

"My name is Canas," the man said, "I am a scholar of magic also making my way to Valor to study the ruins on the island, but can't seem to find anyone to take me there."

Fargus grunted, "An extra mouth to feed for a week or two won't burden ma ship too much. I'll put you in first, against Ulcan the Red."

"You can spare me the explanations," Canas replied, "I overheard most of your exchange upstairs."

"I think I saw a pegasus outside," Fargus continued, "She'll fight against Magnus."

"Florina?" Lyn said, "You can't…"

Drake interrupted, "Do the usual forfeiture rules apply?"

"Yes," Fargus answered, "Next I need an archer…"

Rebecca and Wils look up from their lunch at the same time, "Did someone say an archer?"

"It appears that we need one of you for an arena contest," Drake said, "Anyone volunteer?"

Drake slapped himself when the two archers both exclaimed at the same time, "Me!"

Wil turned to Rebecca, "I'm sorry, miss, for not introducing myself earlier. My name is Wil, and I wish to accept Drake's condition to enter the arena."

Rebecca perked up at his name, but was adamant about her position, "Why shouldn't I go?"

"Well, you're a girl… And…" Wil got no further than that.

"So you look down on me since I'm a girl?" Rebecca said furiously, "I'll just have to prove it to you that I'm a far better archer!"

Wil sighed, "You misunderstood, and I meant that I didn't want to see you in the arena! It's your safety that I'm concerned about, not which one of us is the better shot!"

That stumped her. "You're… What?" Rebecca asked.

"Sir Kent would never let me hear the end of this if I let a girl take the field instead of myself," Wil explained, "So that'll be all, Drake, I'll take the challenge."

As the two archers sat down again, Rebecca muttered to herself, "He's just like him! But is he…?"

"Well, that's that," Fargus said gruffily, "Next is Sir Damian of…"

"He's mine," Hector said as he stormed in, "I'll be damned if I pass up an opportunity like this."

Fargus looked him over, "You sure, laddie? Don't cry if you lose!"

"I may be naïve, but my ax isn't!" Hector asserted.

"In that case, that'll be all," Fargus drained his tankard and got up to leave.

"Hold," Lyn stopped him, "You only named four participants. How are we supposed to fight five champions with four fighters?"

"Aye, sharp eyes, missus," Fargus said, "I don't need to name the fifth and last one, since he's already signed on."

"What?"

"Didn't ye know?" Fargus replied, "The one who accepts a Pirate's Wager must always enter, right landlubber?"

Everyone looked at Drake, who merely nodded, "Aye."

"You can't be serious about entering the arena!" Lyn exclaimed, "You could be killed!"

Drake merely gave her a glance before walking on, "I've never sent a man where I did not dare to go myself. The challengers are allowed into the arena in two more candle marks, which leaves us sufficient time to prepare."

"Ah, chill out," Hector said, "I'm sure Drake will have an ace up his sleeve. By the way, do we know anything about our opponents other than their names?"

"I've sent Canas to the arena to make a few discreet inquiries," Cecilia said, "He should be returning in a few minutes."

Upon learning of the Pirate's Wager, the army had been separated into two distinct groups. The former, composed of the tourney entrants, the tacticians, and the lords were based in the Leaping Leviathan, discussing Fargus' challenge. The latter group was scattered around the inn, keeping their eyes peeled for any potential troublemakers or problems. Canas took this moment to enter the inn after nodding to Kent and Sain, who were outwardly tethering their horses, but keeping their eyes on those entering the tavern.

"What news of the champions?" Eliwood asked.

"Ulcan the Red is a mage specializing in fire magic," Canas read off a parchment, "He appears to be the head of a smuggling ring that traffics goods between Badon and Etruria."

Drake winced, and to everyone's surprise, said, "Easy win. Don't eat him alive too quickly, Canas."

Canas laughed, "I'll try not to. Magnus is a warrior hailing from the Western Isles. He has petitioned to be equipped with a light throwing ax along with bow and arrows."

Florina paled while Lyn frowned, "A male warrior with arrows… Florina should definitely not go against this one."

"I-I s-should at l-least try…" Florina stammered on the verge of tears.

"No one doubts your courage or skill," Cecilia said soothingly, "But the disadvantages are simply too stacked against you. There will be other opportunities to prove yourself."

"Next one is tough," Canas said, "Kilgar, leader of an assassin group that operates around Badon, and a deadly sniper at that. Last week he picked off a bounty that was a fair half mile away from him with one shot."

"Hm…" Wil said, "This should be fun… Any ideas Drake?"

"You'd be surprised," Drake said, "I may have a trick or two handy for such a purpose."

"I'll take your word for it then," Wil said with a smile, "Just bring him on, I'll have him covered."

"Lord Hector's opponent is Sir Damian of Bern," Canas rattled on, "Old knight in his fifties, but still fresh and full of bite. It doesn't appear that he is much of a fighter, but he is always guaranteed a spot since he annually makes a large 'donation' to the cause. For past dozen years running, every single one of his opponents has forfeited the match. Oddly enough, they've all become significantly wealthier in a brief amount of time afterwards."

Hector and Drake exchanged a glance, "Bribes," Drake said with finality, "I would be amazed if he even has a functional lance nowadays."

"Hey, Cecilia," Hector asked, "Are we short on campaign funds?"

"Not really," Cecilia asked, "Why?"

"Then you wouldn't mind if I turn down his offer and make him bite the dust, would you?"

Eliwood smiled, "I'm sure she wouldn't mind, just don't hurt him."

"Are you joking?"

"Well, I meant don't hurt him more than necessary."

"You're no fun at all, you know that, Eliwood?"

Canas cleared his throat, "The last opponent is actually someone we've already met. He's one of Fargus' crew and goes by the name of Dart. Last month, he was single-handedly responsible for the taking of two rival pirate ships by decapitating the rival captains. That's quite a resume for a normal pirate."

Lyn bit her lip and turned on Drake, "There must be another way," she pleaded with him, "You don't have to risk yourself like this."

"She's not the only one with misgivings about this," Eliwood said, "We still need your advice in combat, Drake, and if you fall here, the journey will become many times more difficult. No insult meant towards Cecilia, of course."

"And no offense taken," Cecilia replied, "I still have much to learn from Drake regarding warfare as well."

Drake raised up a hand to quell the rising panic around him, "Hold, remember that Fargus is quite possibly the only one willing to give us passage to Valor. As part of our wager, I must take the field against Dart. This is the quickest and most efficient path to the Dread Isle."

"But…" Lyn said.

"If we play our cards correctly, Drake wouldn't have to fight at all," Canas pointed out, "If we garner three wins before the last fight, then we would have achieved the victory by default anyways."

"It's almost time," Matthew said, entering the tavern, "We best head for the arena now to secure seating."

As everyone filed out of the Leaping Leviathan, Lyn caught Drake's cloak and tugged him back. Turning slightly, Drake found Lyn staring at the ground, her hand tightly gripping his cloak flap.

"I still don't want you to enter," Lyn said softly.

"But what choice do we have?" He countered.

"But if you get hurt? Or worse, ki…" Lyn shut her eyes tightly, "What would we do without you?" What would I do?

Her eyes popped open in surprise when she felt Drake's hand engulf hers. Tearing her gaze from the floor, she saw Drake gently pry her fingers from his cloak before he smiled briefly.

"Just wait patiently, I'll be right back."

As they walked towards the arena, dark thoughts continued to assail Drake's mind. Frankly speaking, I'd be quite content to have Dart split me in two with his ax and relieve me of this tortuous existence. Unfortunately, with the flock under my care, I cannot just abandon them to the wolves and quietly pass on.

Whatever instructions Drake had given to his fellow challengers went out the window as they entered the arena. Nothing he said could've prepared them for the thousands of screaming spectators eager to watch combatants spill each other's life blood on the ground below. The thunderous acclaim could not even be matched by a battlefield's clamor. In battle, there was preciously few battle cries or shouts between armies, who prudently save their strength for the struggle ahead. The arena is an entirely different story altogether, filled with thousands of bloodthirsty watchers who have nothing better to do than scream themselves hoarse when the victor is decided and the vanquished lies in a pool of blood.

"Cowards," Marcus muttered in the stands next to Eliwood, "On a normal day in the streets, their hide their bloodlust beneath the cloaks of peace. In an arena, the daggers come out, and their nature is revealed."

"We apparently aren't the first challengers," Eliwood observed, pointing at the dozen or so bloody mounds on the sands below.

"A good thing," Cecilia noted, "The champions will be tired from previous exertions, while ours are fresh into battle."

"Fie, for shame, lady," Oswin said, "Knights should not fight against one another when one side's strength is spent. That would be dishonorable and against the codes of chivalry."

"You mean well, Sir Oswin," Rebecca interrupted, "But this is not a knightly joust here. We are fighting against brigands and evil men, who do not deserve the kind of courtesy you show."

"As knights," Lowen answered, "We are honor bound to follow our code, regardless of how callous or ruthless our opponents are. I beg your leave, milady."

Dorcas remained silent, though Bartre muttered the word, "Idiots," into his tankard of ale. Erk, quite bored and unable to understand why the arena was so appealing with sitting with a pair of earmuffs, deeply engrossed in a book.

Sain was busy scouring the crowds for those of the gentler sex, "By my honor, Kent, look at that fair beauty over there…" An exasperated Kent silenced him with a hearty smack to the back of the head.

Down below, standing just outside the gate leading into the arena battlegrounds, the challengers rendezvoused with Lyn, Serra, and Priscilla. Matthew and Guy were their escorts, for according to Serra, "Three beauteous ladies such as us simply cannot be allowed to meander in such a filthy place without escorts." Matthew would've liked to change the number 'three' to simply 'two,' but wisely chose to avoid Serra's wrath at least for one day.

"Serra and Priscilla are here in case any of you are dragged out of the gate in a less than healthy state," Lyn explained.

"Good idea," Drake said, "I believe we shall need that more than you think."

Fargus appeared and clapped Drake on the shoulder, "Good ta see ye, landlubber, I was beginning to doubt ye would show up."

"And be the laughingstock of all Badon?" Drake winced, "So, how badly are the odds stacked against us?"

"The wagers are currently a comfortable ten to one against ye," Fargus informed him.

"Taking advantage of us, eh?" Drake said, "We not only provide you with an awesome spectacle, but you also walk away with a golden prize!"

"Guilty as charged," Fargus boomed, "Good luck and don't let Dart tear an arm off ye. Either way, I can't lose, since Dart brings in twenty grand if he remains undefeated 'till sunset."

By unspoken law, combat on the arena grounds were strictly man to man. This prevented any 'unbiased' aid from other sources such as guards or friends. The battleground was circular is shape, with four gates spread evenly apart from one another. Tradition dictated that the challengers always entered from the south, whilst the reigning champions, if you could call them that, were stationed at the northern entrance. This was done to prevent one of them to enter the combat with the sun in their eyes. There was no rule for changing your position during combat, however.

Canas, as the first challenger, took the field first. A solid fifty yards ahead of him stood Ulcan the Red, who was tugging on his crimson beard as he waved to his cheering supporters in the stands. After seeing him toast four previous challengers to crisp, Ulcan was heavily favored by the crowd, seeing that his opponent was nothing more than a frail scholar concealed in a dark cloak.

Ulcan leered at his adversary, "Such a flimsy piece of meat… You're hardly worth my effort."

Canas replied by adjusting his monocle, "Perhaps, but many have underestimated me."

"Do you prefer medium rare or well done?"

"I think I prefer rare, assuming you are capable of changing my order, master chef."

Ulcan sneered and quickly flipped open his Fire tome with his left hand, tracing a spell with his fingers and chanting swiftly. Gesturing at Canas, Ulcan threw a small ball of flame towards his motionless opponent. Canas, seeming unaware of the impending danger, was busy adjusting his monocle again when he stooped his head slightly and opened his tome and squinting at it. Timed perfectly, the haphazardly thrown Fire spell sailed over his slightly bent head and splashed against the sand behind him.

"Did you do something? Or did the fight begin already?" Canas asked.

Purple with rage, Ulcan began chanting rapidly, flinging spell after spell at Canas, who merely drifted from side to side with the patience and skill of a master spell caster. A quarter of a candle mark later, Canas was still reading his book when Ulcan was sweating profusely and panting like a dog. Exhausted by the effort, Ulcan glared at his opponent.

"Are you done yet?" Canas asked politely.

"Never!" Ulcan threw down his Fire tome and reached into his robes to pull out an Elfire tome, "Dodge this!" He cackled as he began chanting again.

Canas' eyes narrowed, and for the first time in this fight, he too began chanting a spell. Ulcan, however, finished before Canas could, and directed a large Elfire bolt towards his antagonist.

"Die! What the hell?" His victorious crowing was curtailed as he saw Canas motioning with his hand and a dark ball appearing overhead.

A sphere of nether energy materialized over Canas' head, before splitting into multiple strands and slithering down his body. The dark spell, acting as an absorbing shield, blocked the harmful Elfire spell from even scorching a thread on Canas' robe, continued to travel until it entered the ground. Ulcan, gaping at the almost careless dismissal of his Elfire tome, did not realize a similar circular pattern emerging beneath his feet until it was too late.

Screaming with horror, Ulcan found himself trapped with the matrix-like lattice of Canas' spell. Unable to free himself from the confining barrier in time, the Flux spell gathered like a storm cloud and smote him directly in the face. Ulcan fell without even a whisper of pain, only a look of agony permanently fixated on his face.

Canas polished his monocle with his sleeve, "I always hated cheaters."

The crowd, initially shocked into silence, exploded into applause.

Pleading impossible odds, Drake withdrew Florina from the combat against Magnar. Both combatants had shattered their weapons in the first moments of battle, but Florina had returned shaking like a leaf with a splintered slim lance in her trembling grasp. Seeing that she was no longer able to continue the fight, Lyn threw in the towel.

Magnar, unexpectedly, was generous after the withdrawal. Though claiming the victory, he loudly declared that the match would've been a heated battle, not even one he'd be confident of victory. With that, he silenced the victorious cheers of his supporters and quitted the battleground via the northern exit.

The free-for-all shootout between Wil and Kilgar lasted longer than both of the previous duels combined. Acting on Drake's advice, Wil declined a direct shootout and instead utilized his speed to rain arrows upon his foe. As Drake correctly guessed, Kilgar was no pushover, but was limited in his mobility. Drake reasoned that as a sniper, Kilgar would have to wait patiently in one location for the perfect shot on his target. Given that, Wil's best chance would be to play the mobile archer, drifting from one place to another and peppering Kilgar with shots occasionally.

Sure enough, Kilgar had adopted a stationary stance in the beginning, hoping to pin down and silence Wil in a single, well-aimed bolt. However, Wil's constant movement and harassing arrows forced Kilgar to adopt a similar mobile policy, or risk getting pin cushioned by half a dozen arrows.

"Stand still, boy!" Kilgar growled out, "Stop dancing around like a pesky mosquito!"

Often times, either Wil or Kilgar ran out of arrows in their quivers, thus resorted to pulling out spent bolts from the soft sand. It was during of those moments when Wil was stooping for an arrow when a lucky shot hit him in the thigh. Kilgar let out a cry of victory, but dismay crossed his features when he discovered he was out of arrows as well. Cashing in on the opportunity presented to him, Wil yanked out a nearby arrow from the sand and fired it back with all his remaining strength.

A distracted Kilgar was scanning for arrows when he suddenly heard the whistling sound of an incoming projectile. Jerking to one side, he dodged the return shot, but unfortunately for Kilgar, Wil's counterattack shattered his precious weapon, effectively disarming him.

Since neither side could continue the struggle, the match was declared a draw, with each fighter retreating to their respective entrances.

As Wil limped back to the southern entrance with the help of Matthew and Guy, he turned an apologetic look at Drake and Lyn, "Sorry, Drake, Lady Lyndis. I tried my best but still failed miserably."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lyn scolded, "You did fine, since a draw counts half a win for either side."

"I wasn't referring to that," Wil said tiredly, "I meant that Drake must take the field now…"

A painful realization flashed through Lyn's mind, By Father Sky, he's right! Both sides have one and a half wins, so even if Hector pulls through the next round, we only have two and a half wins out of five! We don't have the majority to declare an automatic victory!

Noticing Lyn's stricken look, Drake put a hand on her shoulder, "It doesn't matter, Wil tried his hardest."

Lyn turned a scared look at Drake, "But you're not a fighter! Dart will massacre you in battle!"

"And I can't forfeit either," Drake said calmly, "If we end in a draw, we lose our path to Valor, and that above all must be avoided at any cost. Lord Hector, it's your show."

Hector stood in the middle the battleground, impatiently waiting for his late opponent. Word had spread like wildfire that the challenger had refused the proffered bribe and sought glory against Sir Damian. Ugly rumors had sprouted out that Sir Damian's tardiness was out of cowardice, and that he had fled rather than giving battle. All these thoughts were banished as the trumpets sounded when a fully armored mounted knight sprang from the northern entrance. Checking his steed ten yards before Hector, the knight raised his visor and squinted at Hector.

"You're not fifty-odd," Hector said, "So who the hell are you?"

"And you're not Eliwood of Pherae," the mysterious knight said, "So where the hell is he?"

"I am Hector of Ostia. If you answer my question, I'll consider yours," Hector growled.

"Impudent child," the knight responded, "I am Sir Damian of Bern. The original champion was my grandsire, but since he has pleaded illness, I shall fill in for him."

"So why do you ask for Eliwood?"

"Eliwood of Pherae does not yet fear the Black Fang," Damian replied, "And I shall teach him that fear by slaughtering you."

"Oh, really now?" Hector smiled wolfishly, "Then I shall have to disappoint you by dragging your dead carcass from that pathetic beast you call a horse."

"Then prepare to die, Hector of Ostia!" Damian wheeled his steed back fifty yards and prepared to charge the blue-haired lord. Striking spurs to his horse, Damian charged at Hector with his mighty sword raised for the kill.

Hector was not surprised at the appearance of a proxy. Upon refusing the proffered bribe presented by the elder Damian, Hector, Cecilia and Drake had sat down to discuss any possible response from the opposing side. The three of them had agreed that there was little chance that Sir Damian, a knight well into his fifties and had not tasted battle in a dozen years, would actually arm himself and do battle for his honor. Cecilia had suggested, and both Hector and Drake agreed, that Sir Damian would be sending someone to fight in his place, though none of them had expected the grandson.

They had, however, counted on another mounted cavalier, much younger and more skilled, astride a stallion of great spirit and strength. Hector had fought many a cavalier during the march from Santaruz to Badon, and he well remembered Drake's tactic in dealing with mounted horsemen. Hector simply waited, body tense in anticipation, until Damian was almost on him before springing to the left side of the horse.

Traditionally, mounted knights always held the sword in the right arm and the shield on the left. Naturally, this made them harder to injure on the left, but deadlier on the right. While Hector was standing to the left of the charging horse, he presented a more difficult target for Damian to strike, while he was free to attack the unprotected horse. Sweeping a mighty roundhouse blow with his ax, Hector hamstrung the steed and set both horse and rider crashing into the sand.

Damian struggled to rise and give battle, but was pinned down by his horse. When the destrier collapsed in agony and dislodged the rider, the beast did not stay still and managed to crush its rider's legs beneath him. Handicapped by his lack of movement, Damian could do little as Hector approached him with his bloody ax.

"Normally," Hector growled, "I would offer knights a chance to yield. However, this option is withheld against false knights who seek to harm my friends."

Downwards the ax smote, and cleanly separated Damian's head from the rest of his body.

"Give me that lance, will you?"

Drake was so preoccupied with picking a suitable lance that he failed to notice Lyn and Fargus walk into the armory.

"No spearman ever prevailed more than a quarter of a candle mark against Dart," Fargus commented, "Are you decided on the lance?"

"Quite so," Drake said, "I just need to warm up a little."

Shedding his cumbersome cloak, Drake treaded slowly into an open area specifically designated for fighters to practice. He halted before a large wooden post designed for lance practice and began his short exercise.

Lyn could honestly say afterwards that she had never seen such lance work before in her life. Slash, parry, counterthrust, stab, swing, and lunge were done in one fluid motion, one after another until the entire exercise seemed to be a deadly dance to the beat of soundless music. Drake riposted the lance from one hand to another, slid the lance across his shoulders before ending by grabbing his lance with both hands and delivering a piercing thrust over the shoulders into the wooden post that stood before him.

"Missus," Lyn jumped at Fargus' booming voice. As she turned to look at Fargus, she was shocked to see Fargus' face exchange its normal pink complexion to one of startling paleness.

"Yes?" Lyn asked.

"Please go inform Dart that his captain orders him to resign from this tournament for the good of his health."

However confused Lyn was by this comment, she was elated to learn that Drake did not need to participate in the tourney. She quickly left to inform Dart of the change in plans.

After Lyn left, Fargus regarded Drake for a moment, "Where did you learn that routine from?"

Drake's smile turned sardonic, "Curse of Caldeonia."

Behind him, the wooden post shattered asunder.

Dart was only slightly disappointed at Fargus' decision, but was appeased with the prospect of gold and adventure. Fargus had placed a hefty ten thousand bet on Drake's victory, and walked off with his hundred grand with Dart's forfeit. Publicly, Fargus told his crew that the money was more important than Dart's pride, though he never mentioned what he had identified in Drake's lancework.

With plenty of helping hands, Fargus had his new guests' baggage and animals stowed away on his ship in a record time. At high tide, the Davros was in full cruise, leaving the friendly waters of Badon and headed towards the Dread Isle. As Fargus had boasted, Drake had scarcely seen a faster ship cruise over the dangerous seas. Most of the party was scattered all over the ship, whether tending to the horses, trying to stop being seasick, beating the daylights out of each other in poker (which he strongly suspected Serra was doing), or simple chatting. From his vantage point on the crow's nest, Drake could see Eliwood speaking with Fargus at the wheel, along with Hector and Lyn conversing about the past at the bow of the ship.

They had made good time over the sea, delayed only by the appearance of another pirate ship. Though Fargus claimed that these were his waters, the other ship continued to approach, fully prepared to give battle. Cecilia had taken charge immediately, ordering Wil and Rebecca to the crow's nest to shoot at the other ship's riggings. That significantly slowed the vessel, and Erk sent the enemy packing by setting their sails merrily on fire. Last time the Davros saw them, the pirate ship was still busy trying to put out the flames.

"Ahoy, Drake," Matthew said, joining him on the crow's nest, "They want you astern, I'll take over here."

"Understood," Drake replied as he climbed down towards deck. He was halfway down the riggings when someone shouted from the portside of the Davros, "Dingy ahoy!"

Dart hurtled a grappling hook and, with the aid of two fellow shipmates, pulled the dingy alongside the Davros. Looking over the side, he blinked twice before turning around and giving Fargus a curious look.

"Captain, you are simply not going to believe what we found."

Wow, a cliffhanger… But we all know who the dingy contains, right? The last part may seem a little rushed, but right now at around 13 pages, I have to save the rest for the next chapter.

Ugh, this chapter turned into a monster. I simply couldn't resist the urge to write an extended arena tournament instead of a Badon brawl with brigands, but it turned out much longer than I expected. (I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.) Thank you for reading and review if you have the time!