THE FOLLOWING IS A FAN-BASED PARODY.
I OWN NOTHING ABOUT EITHER OF THESE PROPERTIES.
THEY ARE BOTH OWNED BY THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS.
PLEASE SUPPORT THE OFFICIAL RELEASE
Claudia felt the hair on the back of her head bristle as she watched the crowd of onlookers slowly make their way into the ballroom of Lord Pantielle.
The fine silks and elaborate gowns of every imaginable color she had seen fill this very room the night before were replaced with the black garbs worn by those in mourning.
The faces of the onlookers were solemn as they filled the offered chairs surrounding the soon-to-be fighting ground with strained silence, like spectators of a grand funeral.
The reference was an apt description if Claudia was honest, but not one she was comfortable admitting out loud.
The huge ballroom felt lonely and hollow. A far cry from the previous night where music and wine spilled over in equal amounts. The sounds of hundreds of voices laughing and talking and singing melded with the smells of roast venison and stuffed pig, into one single hazy memory.
The great hearths and fireplaces were burning low, stripping the room of the warmth of spring, giving the room a cold and bitter atmosphere. oppressive would be a good way to describe it, but she was sure that was not the type of word you described a room as.
She'd ask Klaus, but her husband was far more preoccupied with the number of people who would be forced to partake in the evening spectacle.
"Isn't this a tad," Klaus spoke, his voice soft as he watched the grim-faced noblemen take their seats uneasily. "excessive?"
Claudia had to agree with her husband's words. Of course, it was rare for a duel to have more than a few spectators, but considering the public nature of the event, she shouldn't be surprised.
Her father had come close to clearing the room of the audience, fully intending to preside over the duel with only a token guard of his most trusted swordsmen.
"Duels between men are not for spectacle," he said with some anger in his words." We have no need of so many gawkers here!"
Claudia herself had been tasked with conveying his words and forcing the assembled nobles out of the chamber, but Queen Celestine had intervened.
Despite her father's words of protest, the high Queen had made her intentions clear, almost ordering the former knight commander into silence.
"It has come to my attention that members of the city council are needed to pass judgment and officiate in duels involving two knights of the realm." Celestine said, her nose turned slightly upwards as her words lingered in her father's ears." I am simply following the customs of your lands, my Lord."
"Customs that no one has followed in decades, my Queen." Sir Grave said with a bow of his head." Must we force so many to view this unfortunate business?"
"If we are to be held in the grips of tradition." Celestine has said, her voice neutral as she spoke."Then let us follow the traditions down to their letters."
Her father was not happy at the Queen's rebuttal, and even Claudia was slightly taken aback by her friend's actions. Celestine's feelings on the practice were well known to all in the room, so much so that seeing her take such an active role was a shock to many, Claudia included.
Klaus had claimed it was as if a great river changed its course, twisting and turning where it once flowed straight.
Sir Grave bowed his head low in response to the Queen's words. Claudia knew her father-in-law well enough to know he was not happy. He rarely was whenever a sudden change took place without his knowledge. Still, he kept his complaints to himself, at least verbally. He turned to walk away, speaking to one of his many bodyguards as he did so. Claudia didn't recognize the man, which was odd considering she thought she knew all of the soldiers her father kept in his confidence.
"It seems father will be in one of his moods."Claudia whispered to her husband, both their eyes traveling to see Sir Graves aggravated form," Perhaps I should speak to him."
"And do what? Allow yourself to suffer through one of his tirades?" Klaus spoke, remembering the last time he had tried and failed to quell the encroaching storm of his father's temper. "Let him be. He'll calm himself eventually."
Claudia said nothing as she listened to her husband. Klaus had always been the expert regarding his father's mood swings. Where Claudia saw a mentor and teacher, Klaus saw the detached disciplinarian who had raised him, one who often made his son share in the misery he felt.
It was a lesson Klaus had learned years before Claudia entered their household and something he hesitated in sharing with her to this day.
But even so, Claudia couldn't imagine seeing the man look so disgruntled over something simple. So disgruntled, her father had barely said a word as he watched Lord Pantielle enter the grand ballroom of his estate. The man was round and soft, but despite the layers of flab born of excess and good fortune, he still held some of the strength of his youth. Claudia could only imagine what was going through the man's mind at the moment.
His pure white mutton chops looked disheveled, and his eyes seemed red and bloodshot. An attendant offered him a cup of what had to have been his favorite wine, which the besieged man drank as quickly as he would water.
Celestine stood tall in the center of the room, as still as a statue as the rest of the members of the seven shield alliances entered the room.
Olga walked silently with Chloe and several of her elven ladies, watching the proceeding events with a knowing look on her face. Chloe tried to hide her discomfort, but to anyone with eyes, it was clear that she was still uneasy even after months of being around humans.
It was one of the few times Claudia was grateful for Olgas' dominating presence, as it shielded her Charge from the brunt of the crowd's attention.
Maia entered next, one of her mercenaries on either side of her. She looked nervous but in good spirits. As if she had expected whatever was about to happen couldn't be stopped and chose to meet the upcoming violence with her patented smile on her face.
Prim followed soon after, her head held high and eyes closed as she moved silently, flanked by Vera and the Feoh knights. Claudia smiled as she read Alicia in the pinkettes movements. Still, despite trying her best to do what she felt her cousin would do if she was here in her stead, it couldn't erase the uncomfortable look etched on her face.
Even with everything that had happened, Prim and violence seemed to go together like cats and dogs.
Finally, Kaguya entered the room, flanked by several of her sister shrine maidens, the materials used for burial ceremonies in their arms.
Claudia sighed as she stood next to her husband, their faces masks of emotionlessness as they watched from behind Sir Grave. She had hoped it wouldn't have come to this. But this was Ken Afterall, Duels were contracts signed with blood in the ancient city, and no one could change that.
She watched as Lord Pantielle walked towards her father, barely held in tears making his face glisten like a polished mirror. He was joined soon after by his second son, Michelle's cruel smile never leaving his face, despite the tension in the room. It made Claudia's skin crawl at the sight of it.
"Will the participants please enter," Celestine spoke, her queenly voice echoing in the high hall as the ornate doors opened. SirPantielle walked alongside Sir Steven, their body language a study of contrast as they silently made their way closer to the center of the room.
Sir Pantielle was covered head to toe in his trademark armor. The metal clanging was almost rhythmic with each step as his family's ancestral sword bounced against his hip. He looked tense, like a prisoner being walked towards the gallows.
In contrast, Sir Steven walked as he always did, confidence radiating from each step. He didn't carry his trademark shield, seemingly coming into the duel with just his bare fists as a weapon. Something that did little to sway the pit of fear from Sir Pantielle's face.
If being the center of attention bothered Sir Steven, he didn't show it. In fact, he bore the audience no mind as he...
"Oh my..." Claudia heard Klaus utter under his breath as Sir Steven removed the top of his uniform, the heavy and thick material making one of the Pantielle house guards almost drop it to the ground from the surprising weight of the material as it was handed to him.
Claudia loved her husband. His mind, his kindness, and just about everything about him. The day her childhood best friend had worked up the courage to tell her how he felt for her, there was no other man in the world for Claudia.
However...
She had once overheard Maia use the term "perfect" when describing Sir Steven, and it was only now when the full weight of the word seemed to dawn on the commander of the Queen guard.
The "hero of Feoh" stood, rolling his shoulders and stretching his body like a mountain lion, his upper body bare save for a small piece of white fabric that cling to his body like war paint.
But it wasn't the muscles that Claudia looked at, as the scars that littered his visible skin told stories that any warrior could read like it was an open book. Claudia shuddered at the thought of what horrors existed in the world that could injure Sir Steven in such a way.
There was no way a man or beast could do that.
But as he ignored the men and especially the women around him, Sir Steven stared toward the Queen, holding her eyes for a moment before he nodded his head. So fast, Claudia was sure she wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been looking for it in the first place.
Celestine nodded back, disguising the motion as best she could as she began to speak.
"In the sights of gods and man. We join together to pass judgment on the honorable warriors before us. " Celestine began, her voice as cold and as distant as Claudia had ever heard her friend speak," May the gods favor the most worthy of victory."
It was far more pageantry than Claudia was comfortable with. Like they were words that should have been left in whatever long-lost century they were first spoken in.
Despite her queenly demeanor, Celestine looked uncomfortable as she spoke as well. Like the words were heavy and uncomfortable as she said them.
"Do the lords in attendance have anything to say before we begin?" Celestine spoke, her voice echoing against the high walls of the hall. No voice answered, the silence deafening as they watched the two men stare at one another, like two wolves preparing to tear the other asunder.
The armored knight lowered the brim of his helmet, fully hiding the last remnants of his visible body from the world.
"Then, as high Queen of this continent, I declare this duel to begin!"
The rustle of armor filled the room as the Pantielle knight circled Sir Steven, keeping out of reach as he hefted his family's ancient and ancestral sword in his hands. Even across the room, Claudia could feel every muscle in his body tensed and coiled, like a massive metal spring. Yet Sir Steven stood by, simply watching the knight with calm blue eyes, his confidence as easy to read to the people in the room as Printed letters.
"Must we allow this senseless violence to go further," Claudia spoke, whispering to her father in laws ear," We are at War! We cannot fight amongst ourselves."
"It is our way, my dear daughter." Sir Grave responded. His voice was emotionless as his eyes never seemed to leave the forms of the two fighters." One doesn't toss out centuries of tradition simply because the outcome is unpleasant to modern sensibilities."
Claudia grimaced at the words but bit her tongue. She felt Klaus's hand intertwine with her own as she simply waited for the inevitable.
She didn't have to wait long.
It started in the blink of an eye, with Sir Pantielle striking first with wild aggression. The knight rushed in fast, swinging the great sword with both hands with the strength of a man fighting for his life. The blade arched downward like a strike of lightning, intending to split the head of his opponent in twine like a melon. But with barely a shrug of his shoulders, Steven moved around the strike, disappearing into the blind spot of Sir Pantielle's helmet, like water would a crack in the floor.
The clang of steel on stone barely filled the audience's ears before SirSteven responded with an open palm strike to the bearded knight's chest plate. The thundering slape dented the steel as if it were wet mud, sending the man spiraling backward in shock and panic, looking like a rabbit who had just had a bear trap closed shut an inch away from its neck.
Hushed whispers filled the room at the sight of the hand print-shaped dent marking the gilded chest plate, with even Sir Pantielle taking a moment to regain his senses, but unsure if the show of strength he had just felt was real or a figment of his imagination.
"We can end this now." Sir Steven said, his voice neutral as he circled his bewildered opponent." This doesn't have to end like this."
Sir Pantielle said nothing before steeling himself with a roar, charging his opponent once more with his sword raised above his head. A downward strike missed as Sir Steven moved to his left, switching stances mid-movement as he dodged the flurry of blows Sir Pantielle threw at him.
A horizontal slash morphed into a low cut as Sir Pantielle switched his blade to his off-hand. Still, like water, Sir steven flowed around each strike, not even bothering to strike back.
On and on it went, the fight quickly looking less like a duel between knights and more like a predator playing with its prey.
Like a man trying to strike an invisible fly buzzing around him. It must have been disheartening for many in the room to see, it was for Claudia at least. The people of Ken were proud of their martial practice, their long history of great warriors and generals as integral to their identity as the sciences were to the halflings of Ansur or the religious teachings of Thorn.
Another slap met against the helmet, sounding like a body being dropped from the top of a high tower. Claudia had seen many helmets be knocked off knights heads by a blow. Most of them had been on the tourney grounds during the joust, though, and not by a single backhanded strike.
Sir Pantielle was forced to the ground, the blow more than enough to knock whatever semblance of balance he had left, but used the momentum of the blow to roll away. The clanks of his armor against the polished stone of the floor illustrating each labored movement Sir Pantielle made in his escape.
The man knelt on his knee as he held his head, willing the ringing in his ears to stop assaulting him as he tried to recollect his thoughts. The ruined helmet, now tristed a piece of scrap metal, stared back at him mocking him with a twisted smile.
"Sorry about the helmet," Steven spoke again, his voice as soft as it had always been." How about we end this right now?"
Sir Pantielle said nothing as he rose from the ground, his sword held tight in his hands. The lone bloodshot eye on his face promised a violent end to the man he was staring at.
"Guess not." Sir Steven said as he watched Pantielle move closer as he raised his blade above his head. Sir steven took a step forward, meeting the man halfway through his Charge and catching the edge of the descending blade in his outstretched hands.
Claudia blinked, thinking her eyes were playing games with her mind, but as the moments passed, reality set in. Steve Rogers had stopped a direct sword strike as easy as one would catch a ball during a childhood game of catch.
Tense moments passed before Sir Pantielle shook himself from his stupor, pulling and heaving to regain control of his sword, but to no avail.
Their faces were a perfect contract of struggle and ease, one set in intense concentration as he put every ounce of strength in his body to overcome the unyielding calmness of the man who held him in control.
Sir Steven pulled his arm back, yanking the sword out of his opponent's grasp and sending the armored man spiraling onto the floor in a heap of strained breaths and bruised pride.
A hush fell over the crowd as they watched the foreign warrior handle the ancient sword. Ken was a city where tradition and swordsmanship were as crucial to their cultural identity as anything else. The blades their forebearers wielded in battle passed from generation to generation were as vital to them as the gold in their vaults and the walls of their ancestral homes.
To see a man with the strength to tear men apart and punch through walls, grip the steel of the blade he could tear apart as easy as he could a piece of parchment made more than a few spectators uneasy.
A feeling that the man must have known full well as he gently placed the sword on the ground before gently kicking it away from him.
"I think these people have seen enough." The man said, his voice as strong and steady as it was when he first entered the room." Stay down."
The Ken knight did not listen as he hoisted himself back to his feet. Instead, he raised his fists to his face and took a position on his body in a way Claudia had seen many knights do when they were forced to spar barehanded.
Sir Pantielle threw a hook that Sir Steven ducked under in a practiced motion he must have done thousands of times in his life. A haymaker followed, labored and slow compared to the first blow, aimed directly at sir Steven's head.
Instead of ducking or moving out of the way, Sir Steven simply turned his head to the side, avoiding the blow altogether with a deftness that once again made Claudia feel her eyes were deceiving her.
He was toying with Sir Pantielle. That much was certain. Everyone with working eyes could see it as clear as day. He avoided another blow, his speed and reflexes blinding as Sir Pantielle caught himself falling to the ground from yet another failed haymaker throwing him off-balance.
"You're too flat-footed." Sir Steven mentioned as he watched the armored knight prepare for another strike. "Your opponent isn't just going to stand in front of you and let you hit him."
Sir Steven ducked through another flurry of blows, his eyes never leaving his opponents as he dodged and weaved through the barrage of punches from all angles. The difference between the two was striking even for those in the audience who had never been in a fight.
Sir Pantielle was failing, like he was drowning in a pool, his movements labored and ineffective as he slowly began to sink under the surface. Sir Steven, in comparison, was swimming upstream through a raging river. While not getting wet while he did so.
Sir Pantielle threw another hook, almost flailing his arm forward as Steven lazily dodged, tripping the exhausted knight as he stepped forward. The knight fell forwards, crashing into the assembled crowd, the spectators moving away to avoid being crushed by the large man in a suit of full plate armor.
Shocked gasps filled the air as the onlookers watched as the Ken knight tried pulling himself up to his feet, using one of the many now empty chairs to steady his tired dead legs. His body shook with exhaustion while his opponent stalked forward, as calm and steady as he did when he entered the room in what felt like hours ago to Claudia.
"I respect the heart." Sir Steven said as he stood in front of his defeated opponent. "But I think it's time to..."
Whatever the man was going to say was interrupted as Sir Pantielle roared into action, slamming the wooden chair he held for support into the face of his standing opponent.
Which was a mistake on his part.
The wood chair shattered, the ironwood and master craftsmanship crumbling like an egg thrown against a stone wall. Sir Steven didn't move, accepting the blow as easily as one would a light summer shower when walking in the garden. The man didn't even flinch as his eyes never left his opponents.
"Okay then."
Sir Rogers's arm shot forward like a bolt of lightning, so fast she would have missed it as she blinked, wrapping around the neck of the knight's decorated front plate. Then, like a snake would a rabbit, Sir Steven's hand gripped and squeezed against the steel, bending and twisting the gilded armor in his closed fist as he lifted the man off the ground and into the air.
With his free hand, he gripped the front of the breastplate. He pulled, the leather straps of the armor ripping from Sir Pantielle's body, offering as much resistance as a blade of wheat would a scythe.
He held the now unarmored man in the air for what felt like a full minute, his eyes boring into the frightened eyes of his opponent before he tossed the man across the room with a flip of his wrist.
Sir Pantielle landed with a thud, sliding across the polished floor as a stone would across the surface of a lake. He stopped suddenly, crashing against the oak doors on the opposite end of the room with enough force to dent and almost rip the doors off their hinges.
Sir Pantielle folded into himself with a grunt of pain, twisting his body to find a position to lay that didn't feel like his body was broken into pieces.
Sir rogers walked forward, ignoring the stunned whispers that followed his footsteps, as he tore the breastplate in his hands in two. Solid castle-forged steel torn as easily as someone removing the skin of an orange.
"It's over now." the blue-clad warrior said, a sense of finality to his voice that dared anyone to try and contradict him. "Yield"
The crowd fell silent as Sir Pantielle's ragged breath and strained cough filled the room as he tried to stand back up again. He fell to his knees again before he could fully stand, the knight's palms placed firmly on the ground as a priestess would deep in prayer.
"I yield." the knight said, his voice broken and exhausted as he looked up to his opponent's face, awe mixing with fear and acceptance on his face as he simply waited for what was about to happen.
Claudia felt her body tighten as she, too, waited with bated breath for the final blow to be thrown, for this execution to be over and done with. But to her immense shock, no impact came. Instead, the blue-clad juggernaut offered the downed man a hand to help him up.
The wounded knight said nothing, his fear and awe transforming into confusion as he clasped his own bear paw of a hand into Sir Stevens, allowing the blue-clad warrior to help his former wounded enemy back to his feet.
"You did pretty well back there." Sir Steven said with a smile. Like a teacher would a student after an extensive exercise or lesson." Maybe we can do this again sometime."
Whispers once again filled the room, and Claudia felt her eyes travel from the forms of the men to the myriad of reactions from throughout the room.
Confusion was the most pronounced, with many men and women looking to one another for the reason behind the action. Still, it was the Queen's reaction that intrigued Claudia the most. She didn't look surprised in the slightest, as if the final move of a master chess move had been played several turns ago, and her opponent had just noticed it.
Was this her doing?
"What is the meaning of this?" Sir Graves's voice broke through the room's confusion, his natural bass overwhelming the contained whispers around him." This battle is not over until one man draws his last breath."
"Not exactly." Sir rogers said as he turned to look at the elder general." I'm a bit of a foreigner, you see. So I wasn't as educated on how these duels were governed as I would have liked, So I decided to do some research."
"I thank you for your due diligence." Sir grave said, his words almost spiteful as he spoke them. "But that does not answer my question."
"Well, you interrupted me before I could." Sir Steven said with the same smile on his face as he stepped closer to Sir Grave." Claudia felt Klauss's hand grip her own tightly, and for a moment, she didn't know how to feel.
She owed everything in her life to Sir Grave, but she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel some level of glee at the sight. She knew her husband felt the same way as she did as he watched someone actually stand up to the undaunting form of his father.
"you see, duels are extremely cut and dry, two men enter, and one man leaves." Sir Steven said, his voice indicating the disgust he shared for the concept. " Simple and clean, if not distasteful, without that many underlying regulations. Except one."
"And pray tell." Sir grave said, his voice sounding more of a field general would speak to an opponent than it was a moment ago." What would that be?"
Rogers smiled, but Claudia could not see it reach the man's eyes for once.
"That when done in the presence of the city council, as was common when duels were first in fashion, the council is given the power to show mercy to a knight that had shown himself to be brave in his attempts at victory." Sir Steven said as he inclined his head towards the still form of his ex-opponent." And who among us can deny Pantielles bravery in his battle against me?"
Whispers erupted around the room again, this time louder and far less restrained. Claudia looked towards Celestine once more to see her queenly facade had slipped for a brief moment before she willed it back into place.
Was this all a part of her plan?
"Are the representatives of the council satisfied?" Celestine said, her queenly voice shocking the spectators out of the trance the sight of Sir Steven had put them in. "Or must we see more bloodshed this night?"
Claudia noticed her father's eye twitch at the words. Several more men in attendance looked uncomfortable as, one by one, the rest of the nobles in attendance answered in agreement with the Queen's terms. Claudia could feel the stress she had carried since last night be lifted off her shoulder with each passing moment as she watched old Lord Pantielle race to his eldest son.
Sir Steven, she noticed, was not paying attention to the men and women of the room voicing their thoughts as he walked to gather the fallen ancestral sword of the Pantielle family he had tossed away moments before.
"Very well then."Queen Celestine arose from her seat, her white gown contrasting the brutality of what the room had borne witness to. "Then, as high Queen of Ken, I must bring this duel to a close."
As if by some sort of magic, the tension instantly seemed to lift from the room. Gone was the dread and gloom that suddenly felt suffocating to Claudia's senses.
Sir Rogers said nothing as the room slowly came back to life, ignoring the sounds of his name being spoken with awe and reverence as he returned the blade to the hands of the stunned Pantielle men. He said nothing but placed a hand on the knight's shoulder and nodded his head to the man's father before he made his way towards the doors out of the great hall.
"You're not going anywhere!" Sir Grave spoke, his voice of a general speaking to his troops. Every head in the room turned to him, many freezing in their seats as the legendary Sir Grave Levantine commanded the room." Not until this is finished."
"The duel is over and done with." Sir Steven spoke back, his voice commanding the same power and authority as her fathers-in-law." Unless you have something to say?"
"You're a foreigner. So I will allow some semblance of ignorance to shield your actions." the general said, his tone a mix of anger and disappointment, a tone that she had heard him often use with Klaus." But you have no right to dictate how the people of Ken make decisions about their traditions."
"I'm not dictating anything," Steven responded as he walked closer to the older man. "I simply gave these people a choice."
"That's not your choice to give." The two men were nose to nose now. For a moment, Claudia feared what would happen next, or worse yet, what she would have to do if the worst-case scenario were to pass. "It's not their choice to make."
"You can't force people to follow a rule when it suits you, only to forget about them when you suddenly don't like the outcome ."Sir Steven said, his words hard as he stared down the older knight," Unless this isn't about following your traditions."
"What are you..."
Your tradition forced me to participate in this duel." Rogers spoke, looking through the assembled crowd as he did so." Because if I didn't, there was a good chance that many here would refuse the call to help their allies."
Claudia felt the shuffling of feet and could feel many eyes dart across the room. The reality of the situation became apparent to many of the more ignorant in the room. Hundreds of thousands of men, women, and children were threatened with enslavement or death, only momentarily averted with the possible execution that was prevented but a moment ago.
"I was asked..." Steve said but corrected himself as he took another step towards Sir Grave, forcing the older man to take a step back." No. I was ordered to kill a man who made the mistake of trying to embarrass me in front of the wrong person, and the countless lives in the city of Ansur were held in the balance until I did so."
Claudia watched as the younger man bored into the elder knight commander like a predator waiting for an excuse to rip apart a potential meal would. If Claudia was honest with herself, this must have been the first time in her life she had ever seen another man seemingly overwhelm her father in such a way
"Tradition..."
"Your traditions say you don't have to kill." Steve said, his voice allowing no room for Sir Grave to speak." And now you're telling me to ignore that because this was never about obeying traditions, is it?"
Sir Grave was silent for a moment. Claudia could see several hands move to their hands in anticipation of what might happen. But for the life of her, Claudia didn't know if that would do much.
"I'm not some sword you get to unsheath whenever you want someone dead," Steven said, a dangerous warning unspoken in his voice. "I'm a shield which protects those who can't protect themselves. If you want me to end a life, you better have a damn good reason for me to do it."
"This is war..."
"This isn't war." Sir Steven shouted, his voice as forceful as a lion's roar as his eyes bore into sir Graves. Saphire blue overwhelmed ruby red as Steven's presence seemingly enveloped Graves, forcing the older man to take another step back. "The War is outside these walls! That's what we should be focused on. Not This!"
His voice echoed against the high ceiling of the room, sounding more like rolling thunder than the voice of a man.
Claudia realized at that moment was the first moment she had heard Sir Steven raise his voice and how different he seemed from when she first met him.
The first moment his eyes shone anything except kindness, the soft blue hardening into steel. This wasn't the man who could speak of elven art like a scholar or the man who let Prim beat him in horse races. For the first time, she saw the face that haunted the dreams of the surviving Kuroinu soldiers when they slept at night.
A man who could rip suits of armor in two. A man who punched through walls and could kick full-grown trees down with the barest of effort. A man who would not be pushed around or forced to do anything he didn't think was right.
"Where do you think you're going." Sir Grave said, regaining his strength when Sir Steven moved his eyes as he turned.
"There's an army marching on Ansur as we speak." The man said, his voice filled with steel as he held the vision of the room's occupants." I plan on being there when they get there."
Claudia watched as the man left the room, followed by the rest of the seven shield alliance soon after. She felt Klaus's hand squeeze her own, a silent answer to Claudia's unspoken question. She reluctantly let go of her husband's comforting presence as she made her way to follow her Queen, trying to ignore the faces of the rooms remaining occupants as she did.
Especially the eyes of her father-in-law baring into her as she closed the door behind her.
"Why didn't you tell us this was what you were planning!" A voice broke through Claudias worry, a voice that sounded like Prim whenever someone ate the last of her cinnamon cookies." You had us all worried!"
"I wasn't worried." Maia said as she slung an arm over the small pinkettes shoulder." I knew he was in control the whole time."
"Well, perhaps you should have enlightened me of this knowledge."Kaguya said, her voice even as she stared at the mercenary with expressionless eyes."I spent the past hour preparing for a death ceremony that was never going to take place."
"That's because the mercenary lies, priestess."The dark Queen said, standing close to the hallway's lone man, "She was as in the dark as any of you of what Sir Steven was planning."
So Sir Steven did plan with the queen, both of them in fact. That arose even more questions, but those could wait for later.
'I never said I knew what he was planning." The redhead answered back, a smile on her face as she gave the dark queen a side-eyed glance."I just said I wasn't worried."
"I'm glad I'm, not the only person kept in the dark of the evening's surprise." Claudia said with a small smile as she walked up to the assembled group." I was starting to suspect I was left out of the loop on purpose."
"I'm sorry." Celestine said, her "Queen's" voice long forgotten as she looked at the assembled faces like a girl who had accidentally stepped on her dog's tail." I wanted to tell you all before the ceremony began! it's just..."
"No need to apologize, my queen," Claudia said as she placed a hand on her friend's shoulder. "But I have to know. How did you come up with such a gambit?"
|"That I'm afraid is solely the doing of Sir Steven." Olga said, her eyes showing she took some pleasure at the looks that appeared on the faces of the women around her." It was most impressive."
"Impressive?" The man said confusion tinting his strong voice as he looked towards the dark queen as if he was told a bad joke." I just read through a couple of books. Nothing too exciting."
"How many books did you read ?" Kaguya asked, general curiosity peeking through her stone-like features. "considering this legal knowledge had been considered a surprise to the residents of the nobles of this city, I highly doubt it was easy to find."
"Not that many."
"You're being too humble for your own good I'm afraid," Olga said, her lips twisting into a small smile as she did so. " Far too humble."
"It was most impressive actually." Celestine spoke, her smile larger than her counterparts." For a moment I thought you were simply playing a joke when I saw you deep in your study. I will never doubt your abilities again."
"So..." Maia asked, generally curious what the two queens were referring to." How many books did you read?"
"101 law textbooks ." Chloe spoke, her voice like a hammer. " and 167 individual legal theses dating back to the founding of ken, over five hundred years ago."
Claudia felt her eyes widen slightly at the elven servent's words. That was...well... frankly...An absurd amount of reading, to say the least.
"What the hell..." Maia agreed as she stared hard at the man once more as if this fact was even more impressive and frightening to her than the one-sided duel had been a few moments ago. "How in the world..."
"I read quickly." He answered with a smile
"You read all of that in a single day?"Prim said, actually sounding somewhat offended by the fact as if her mind tried and failed to comprehend it." I will never complain about my lessons as long as I live."
"Would have finished sooner." Sir Steven said, actually looking at Celestine in the eye with a knowing smirk on his face." If someone hadn't forced me to pace myself."
Celestine looked offended, but not righteously. More akin to Claudia whenever she dealt with young knights in training doing something stupid than something particularly egregious.
"You hadn't eaten since your morning meal." Celestine said with a roll of her eyes, looking far younger than she did a moment ago." So I brought you up your supper. What of it?"
"And you forced him to eat every bite before you let him get back to work." Olga responded, her small smile now larger now as she looked on at the unfolding scene." It was certainly unlike you."
The high elf narrowed her eyes at the dark elf, actually pouting as she turned her vision away from the amused man. Claudia paused, trying to maintain her composure, but finding it rather difficult at the unfolding scene. Before her, were the two most powerful women in the known world, acting not like sovereigns, but like normal women.
It was odd, but certainly not unwelcome.
"Regardless of how he managed it. I am just glad he did." Celestine spoke her voice light and filled with relief. Claudia could see the tension that had weighed her down since the previous night lift off her shoulders." Now we can place our attention on the matters of Ansur."
The mood of the group shifted, each set of eyes turning harder and darker at the implication of the queen's words. For all the relief and anxiety this duel had caused, one way or another, the real battle was about to begin.
"I have my men on standby my lady.' Claudia spoke, her voice like iron."10,000 men properly armed and p0acked for march ready on your word."
"my girls are ready to join them as well," Maia added, her mercenaries would have been willing to be the bulk of the offensive forces should the worst-case scenario have arisen with the forces of Ken, which thankfully seemed to have been resolved. "I'll I need is to give the word."
Claudia smiled, Maia and her mercenaries had often been called Pitbulls in regards to their love of a good fight.
"I hope so." Sir Steven said as he looked toward the group as a whole. "Because we leave tomorrow at dawn."
"I agree. we've already wasted enough time as is." Claudia answered back. The march to Ansur would be long and hard, but if they left now then they should reach the half-ling city within a fortnight.
"Now that we agree on that, I have one more thing I need to resolve." the lone man of the group said, his voice somewhat uneven as he searched for a particular someone. "Has anyone seen the guy I gave my shirt to?"
Claudia smiled to herself as she watched the other women around her try in vain to look innocent as Sir steven desperately looked for the man who he had given the top of his tunic, and found nothing.
Prim bit her lip as she tried, desperately to keep eye contact with Sir Rogers, something her knight escort Vera didn't even bother trying to do.
"Nope!" Maia answered far quicker than she should have as her eyes traveled over every curve she saw like a starving man at a feast. "Can't say I have!"
"Perhaps you'll find it in your chambers when you return," Kaguya answered, a small blush breaking through her calm demeanor as her eyes traveled across the broad chest and the thick slabs of muscle on the lone man's arms.
Luu-Luu stared wide-eyed at the realization as if at that moment she thought that the man's uniform was equally as interesting as the shield Claudia could now see the halfling wore on her back.
Chloe didn't speak, turning her body completely around to avoid the temptation of looking longer than she already had.
"Such a shame..." The dark queen said evenly as she dared to rest her eyes directly on the man's posterior as he turned his body. "...Let us hope you find it...eventually."
"I'm sure it will be returned to your chambers before you leave." Celestine said with a smile, a smile that honestly Claudia had never seen on her queen's face" In fact, I'm sure of it."
A part of Claudia, the small part of her who loved to stir up the pot every once and a while wanted to admit she had seen the knight in Celestine's presence before they had left Lord Pantielles's chambers but chose not to.
No need to embarrass Celestine like that when she was enjoying herself after all.
"Your plan failed, you old doddering fool!" the rotund man shouted, like a spoiled child not being allowed a toy on a trip to the marketplace.
In moments like this, Sir Grave truly despised those with whom his loyalties lay. For what other circumstance would exist for someone like him to be forced to plan and scheme with the likes of Michelle Pantielle?
It made this little trip far worse than it should have been usually. Sir Grave was a man not used to hiding away in the isolated chambers of a half-forgotten keep, Far more willing to do his dealing as out in the open as he possibly could. But secrecy and privacy were topics that weighed heavily on his mind these past few weeks and one that had only increased in importance due to the utter failure that occurred several hours before.
The keep was not a tall one and far less spacious than what was considered normal by Ken standards. More of a fortress than its neighbors, the bulk of its rooms and chambers were underground, shielded by the natural rock formations surrounding it like the spikes of a sea urchin. Its uniqueness made it perfect for housing the bulk of Ken's prisoners of war.
Men awaiting their executions and trials were held deep within this underground fortress, awaiting the punishments for their crimes. Their cells formed a seemingly never-ending maze of brick and darkness. So deep one could hear the rushing of rainwater into the sewers above their heads. It was uncomfortably damp and cold in most places and a death trap in others, but For Grave, it was the perfect meeting place for him and his companions.
After all, who would think to question why the warden of such a place had arrived late at night? Grave was a man who took his honor seriously after all.
A small table was set out for them, but Grave did not sit. It was only the young and fat second son of Lord Pantielle that sat down, the wood complaining with each slight movement he made.
"You lied to me, old man." The obese man said, the jowls of his face shifting and breaking like waves against a beach." You told me that my brother's death was assured! Vault promised me you would get it done."
Sir grave passed a hand through his beard. He was neither a fool nor a man who enjoyed violence for violence's sake. Still, he did not relish the idea of being so close to the youngest son of Lord Pantielle. The more rotund man spoke, the more the thought of making him swallow a dagger crossed the aged knight commander's mind.
"I'm aware." Grave growled, his eyes like a caged animal forced to dance for an incompetent ringmaster." But unfortunately, Vault has been made aware of the change in our plans as of late. No strategy survives the battlefield. You would know that if you paid little attention to your studies."
The younger man was seated as he rocked back and forth, quite possibly the first exercise he received in years going by what Grave knew of the man's habits. But despite Grave's distaste for the man in front of him, he was not foolish enough not to see the truth in his words. Lord Michelle's brother should have been dead by now, and Michelle should have taken his rightful place as his father's heir.
"You sound like my father." the younger man said, disdain evident from his voice as he sat back down on the wooden chair opposite his elder." I was never good enough for him! I don't need to hear his words from your mouth too!"
Grave toyed with a heavy mace laying on the table, the thought of cracking the young lordlings skull crossing his mind more than once before he could snuff it out.
"We get it already." the last man of this little triad said, leaning into the bars of his cell." Maybe if someone kept me in the loop, I could have salvaged this."
Hicks was as much of an insufferable bastard as he always was, his stay in the cells doing nothing to humble the young man into someone passable to speak with. But Grave assumed the added rations and wine had allowed the man to keep the sense of superiority that made him insufferable to be around.
The man who many called Vault's right-hand man had been the first misfire of the War. Grave remembered thinking that the whole incident at White river had been a lie, a tall tale to keep hope alive for the small folk and presents of the countryside. How a man as ruthless as Hicks would be beaten back by farmers with pitch forks was as far from the truth as a wild hog's ability to fly. It wasn't until Maia had dragged Hicks to Ken covered in chains and dried blood that Grave heard the truth.
Or what Hicks claimed was the truth anyway.
"Oh, I'm sure a man of your expertise." Grave said, spitting the last word like wine that had turned."Would have been greatly appreciated."
"I'm the man who fought Rogers unless you forgot," Hicks said, the torch's fire illuminating the still unhealed injuries that littered his body. " I told you what you were dealing with, but no! Grave "the Great" doesn't listen to peasants, does he?"
Grave took an intake of breath, red hot anger filling his body at the man's insolent tone. The man was handcuffed and chained to a wall in the darkest dungeon in Ken, and he still dared to speak to him like that!?
But Grave said nothing, the images of the man Hicks spoke of tearing and ripping a suit of full plate armor like it was made of parchment had been seared into his mind. Perhaps it was a good thing Celestine took such interest in the duel. It stopped him from making an even bigger mistake than he already did.
"I told you exactly what kind of man you were going up against," Hicks said, his mocking voice like the buzzing of a horsefly to Grave's ears," But did you listen? No, the great Grave doesn't course correct when he thinks he's right."
Despite the anger bubbling under the surface, Grave said nothing. What could he say? Despite Hick's arrogance and past foolishness, he was right. It was something that almost stung more than the actual failure of his plan.
He assumed Celestine would refuse to get her hands dirty with something as "distasteful" as an honor duel, allowing him to take control of the situation. A private affair with him and several of his honor guard as witnesses would have ensured that whoever would have proven victorious between this Rogers and Pantielle wouldn't make it out of the chamber alive.
Two problems are eliminated in a single swipe of a sword. Michelle Pantielle becomes his father's heir and soon to be head of the wealthiest family in Ken, and the Hero of Feoh would be dead before he could potentially perform yet another miracle in the War.
But Hicks wasn't lying. He spoke of a monster in human skin with the strength of a hundred men, and he was telling the truth by god. In many ways, he must thank Queen Celestine for being more hands-on than he would have liked. They'd be no way he would have maintained the illusion of his loyalty if she hadn't.
"You'll need a fucking platoon of men willing and ready to die if you want a chance to take that man out for good. He's not a man. He's a fucking demon in a skin suit."
Hicks continued, clenching his jaw hard enough to cause pain at the memory of his failure. Grave watched silently. It was true that he had taken the man's words as a farce, a tall tale like the countless others Hicks had told over the years to explain his failures.
"The man was impressive," Grave said, his tone subdued as he remembered not just the physical strength of the man but the strength of the man's words as he swayed the wills of the nobles around him. The foreigner did not know it yet, but he had made a lifelong ally with not just the Pantielle heir but with the Pantielle patriarch with his actions that very night. If Klaus was half the man, this Rogers seemed to be...
"Enough talk about this." Michelle Pantielle said with a sneer, his arrogance not allowing the conversation to drift away from his plight. "What about me! Vault will be displeased that his most powerful ally in Ken has not arisen to his proper position."
Grave growled at the implication but held his tongue. Vault needed the Pantielle name to keep legitimacy when he officially conquered Ken. It was the only reason Michelle was allowed to still draw breath.
"We heard you the first time."Hicks said with a dismissive shrug of his shoulders, whatever madness that had taken over him dissipating as he spoke again to Grave." I'm sure Vault will have to change up his strategies without lord tons of fun in power."
The lordling huffed, clearly not used to speaking with a man like Hicks, his frustration showing on his face as it puffed like a poisonous fish from the south seas. But despite the rudeness of the man's words, Hicks was right in his assumption.
"Our king is most displeased with the outcome of our gambit." Grave responded, staring at the two men evenly as they listened to his words intently." He fears he may have to accelerate his plans for Rad."
"That bad, huh?" Hicks responded, his mood somber as the reality of the situation set in. "Rad is a delicate situation. Not something we can just rush."
"It all depends on how the invasion of Ansur goes." Grave responded, his eyes staring into the shadows of the near-empty room." But with the invasion of Feoh failing, much of our plans must be readjusted."
"Speaking of Feoh." Hicks said with a grimace, "When will I be graced with Beaslys presence? It's lonely here in a cell with you and lard ass as my only company."
"He won't be arriving in Ken for some time." Grave said in a severe tone, trying vainly to emphasize the situation's seriousness." He's to be held as a guest of Alicia while he's transported to Celestines Tower in Geofu. That is if he survives Arcturuses interrogations that is."
"Hmmm, so he's a dead man walking." hicks said with a scoff, the man writing off the statesmen as a lost cause. An opinion Sir Grave had to agree with. "Alicia's a dumb whore, but a pit bull when she needs to be. She won't stop until every scrap of meat is ripped off the bone."
"We were talking about me!" the younger Pantielle shouted, his face jiggling in aggravation as the conversation moved away from his desires." Have we not forgotten,"
"Can't say that's possible, considering that's all you've been screaming about since you got here." Hicks said in annoyance, " But if you ask me, we're gonna have to put your ascension as head of the Pantielle family on the back burner."
"Excuse me?"
"Hicks is right." Grave said the agreement he was forced to give was almost painful for him to say." Our plans have been thrown into chaos. We are forced to change it, or I fear it will crumble beyond repair."
"I didn't come here to be talked down to by a man who can't even correctly kill a man when ordered to." Michelle said as he stood up from his seat, his fat legs waddling as he stood in front of the aging knight commander, like an overweight owl thinking a great cobra was a worm." "Lord Vault..." The fat lordling was struck before he could utter his next word, Sir Grave Gauntlet's hand slapping across the soft face of his fellow conspirator. The younger man fell into a heap onto the floor, tears welling in his eyes as blood dripped out of the fresh cut on his face. Hicks cackled at the sight as sir Grave looked down at the sad picture in front of him.
"You will watch how you speak to me, boy," Grave said, his words ushering in a new cry from the injured Lord. "I was willing to have your brother butchered like a lamb to ensure Lord Vaults' victory! What do you think I'd be willing to do to you if you prove to be a liability to our plans."
The silk-clad man said nothing as he rose his hands to his face in surrender, his quiet weeps of pain and fear doing nothing but increase Graves's desire to strike the man a second time.
"So, what are you going to do," Hicks said as he sat back down on the dirty floor of his cell.
" Ensure the invasion of Ansur goes in our favor." Sir grave said as he turned to leave the meeting, ignoring the still-crying figure of Michelle Pantielle as he did so. "Personally."
Hey, look. It's the new chapter I promised over a month late. Isn't that aaaaawesome...
To those in the know, I had to rewrite this whole thing from scratch because my comp[uter broke, which sucks. So I'll always sort of always compare this chapter with the one it could have been. so if it sucks please tell me.
Thanks for sticking with me for so long and leave a review if you liked it. *cracks open a can of orange soda as I take my pants off and melt into my couch* or don't, I'm really not that particular about it.