Note: I'm still not sure if I'll be continuing this story next or the Fangirlverse. But! I found some extra chapters lying around in my files LOL. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The characters and settings created by Blizzard Entertainment Inc in this story are owned by their creators. I do not claim them as mine in any way, shape or form. I am not receiving monetary profit from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter 25: Guns Ablaze

Arthas started laughing at Britecleff. He just laughed at him. There was no joke, nothing Britecleff had missed, though the Farstrider captain's mind raced now with insecurity, that maybe there was also something about his uniform, or something important that he hadn't heard right. But no, Arthas was just capable of laughing at another man because he dared to defy him, and then continue on existing in his mighty, regal presence.

Arthas then looked up at the blue sky, swallowed. "All of you are the same. You assume I am a monster. That I have monstrous intentions toward one of your women. Is that it?"

Britecleff hesitated with his answer. As they walked together, Arthas pushed Britecleff. Hard, in the shoulder.

Britecleff staggered back, totally unprepared for it. And it had been incredibly rude. Britecleff was unused to dealing with people, especially at this eschelon of society, who were so comfortable with taking on a Farstrider officer, directly. Most Highborne were afraid of the Farstriders, for better or for worse. Sunthraze's most recent debacle with the Garrison and Sunspire Keep underscored many of the good reasons why.

People watching in the crowd began to notice.

With that rude gesture, Arthas had also succeeded in getting Britecleff's hand away from his own gun. Arthas then closed the distance between their bodies, positioning himself to do it again if necessary.

Arthas then said loud enough for most to hear, "You're not the best shot in this kingdom, Britecleff, if your reflexes are so shit."

Sylvanas rushed in, alarm on her face, wanting to tell Arthas not to do this for her sake, perhaps? But she stopped midway there. She couldn't go to him.

Instead, another man reached them, "S-stand down, Captain Britecleff. The shooting has not started yet."

Rosy-cheeked Windemere, Britecleff's direct superior officer, swerved toward the two men. So he was shooting, too. Windemere had a large glass of wine in one hand, and the other hand was resting on the pistol in its holster, but Windemere was still in it enough to notice his underling was about to embarrass them both in front of Sylvanas. That was what he and many other guests presumed the matter was, that Sylvanas was embarrassed for Britecleff's regiment, that she felt she shouldn't have to address that kind of behavior directed at a foreign prince, but was waiting for the person whose job it was, Britecleff's direct superior, to go on and do it.

Not that Sylvanas had any feelings for the Human perpetrator. It was almost a perversion, still so far from some Highborne minds.

Windemere then moved past Britecleff, "My Prince Arthas, y'know it's a funny thing I thought that Nathanos isn't here to shoot! You know, Ranger Nathanos?"

Arthas gave a look that Windemere had assumed all Humans knew each other. Then, Arthas kept going as Windemere pretended he wasn't having a polite conversation with himself.

"Well. He's rank-and-file with our Farstriders now. It's an interesting, um… conundrum." Windemere nodded for Britecleff to rejoin him.

"Uh, yes sir?"

"Don't get on his tits. He has it rough as it is, with the Plauge and all. And then Kael'thas failed to show up and own what he did to Arthas, man-to-man."

"But sir, I—"

"The kingdom doesn't need this, Britecleff." Windemere sang in a chiding manner. Then, he motioned for Britecleff to go and take his position as well. The shooting was bound to start.

Britecleff saw Daphne again, waiting back in the crowd. She drifted near, in that warm, almost glowing coral dress. She had been so brave or else too innocent to even try and intervene between him and Arthas before. He was obviously so good at picking out people's weaknesses, fast.

Britecleff at last arrived at his assigned place. He checked the silver pistol in its holster again. A palace servant did a quick nod to assure him that was the spot.

Sylvanas backed away gently from that whole scene, breath caught in her throat. She tried to meld into the crowd once more and return to the conversation she had been having with the Farstrider officers nearest her.

Arthas walked a circle, close to his assigned spot at the edge of the silver gravel and green grass. Several flags were set up far across the lawn from each shooter. He let his black and blue cape sweep behind him. Then, Arthas took a drink that an approaching server, a very, very courageous server offered. Queen Celestia had ordered the poor, trembling man in red-and-gold livery to go and do it. Smooth things over with the Human prince.

Arthas drank, stared over at Britecleff standing down the line. Eventually, Queen Celestia herself broke proceedings, came in and mended things. There was a bit of time, shooters were still finding their marks, and the crowd all around chattered lightly. And, now, they would delay further for the queen to achieve whatever her evident goal was.

Celestia engaged Arthas with overly friendly smiles as he sipped, introduced him to a very pretty Highborne lady among her courtiers who curtsied to Arthas, then flattered him with real skill.

For he had shown such repugnance only moments before.

Well, that's what the royal courtiers were saying about Prince Arthas now, as fresh rumors raced around the spectators present. The more hopeful ones wondered what a Human from a foreign court really intended, by the gesture. They would hold onto hope when it came to Prince Arthas, until the bitter end, it seemed.

King Anasterian went off on his own way through the crowd to his assigned place. He looked very pleased about it, too. For once, Anasterian knew he was not the heated center of all their conversations.

The moments seemed to pass by slowly as Britecleff thought of Arthas' slight, that he had a loaded pistol so close to his hand now, that King Anasterian, Lor'themar, and all the rest in the vicinity as well. Weren't they all mad to be doing this? Raving mad?

Daphne's happy voice floated to him, he could hear her above all the others. Clever Lady Daphne Weaver had found Sylvanas, and she had got his boss' boss to laugh loudly at some clever joke.

Celestia had finished up with the human prince long ago. It had little effect on his mood. Arthas let himself be distracted again, gazing at the two women now looking his way.

Britecleff felt his teeth go on edge. What was Daphne playing at? Clearly, they were discussing Arthas. Talking about him and laughing. But it was harmless, wasn't it? Britecleff hoped to the sun above that it really was as harmless as it appeared. Somehow, he wasn't sure how, Daphne was flaunting Sylvanas at him. Sylvanas still belonged to another world, the Highborne world, and he did not have all the privileges with Highborne society, nor its women that he liked. It seemed cruel, in a way. A very mean-girl thing to do. Bart was surprised, he didn't think his lady love had been capable of it.

Another shout to get prepared rang out. Arthas' manservant and the rest of his Human escort closed in, though, helping the prince to take off his overcoat and get ready. Humans always wore so many layers, no matter the weather.

Britecleff simply took out his gun, saw that it was loaded, ready, gave it an easy, elegant spin. Then, he set it back in its holster.

The other Highborne men were busy doing the same. Nobody had as many servants as Arthas, except for King Anasterian.

After they were done with the pistols, they would use hunting rifles during the following round. Arthas seemed not to know that. King Anasterian was finally the one to shout over and tease Arthas into using one of the royal pistols offered for him to use instead. Rather than have such a large advantage over all the other invited guests with his zombie-gun.

Britecleff muttered under his breath, "It's a zombie-killing gun. Unless you think a zombie is presently using it. Big difference."

Arthas glared over at Britecleff.

This time, Britecleff kept staring straight ahead.

One could hear Sylvanas saying, "I was going to shoot today, but I'd rather let Prince Arthas be more comfortable and shoot with his friend. The um… rogue, there. They're both very good shots, I hear. And I didn't mind giving up the spot. When else will Arthas get the chance to do this?"

Daphne went, "Gosh! And isn't Prince Arthas so very handsome?"

Britecleff almost did laugh. Daphne didn't talk like that at all. But she was reading the whole situation with Sylvanas and Arthas very, very quickly.

The shotmaster spoke over the crowd, asking for complete silence before the targets were finally released.

And then, a funny thing happened. Lord Byron Mageblade, the barrister who had wanted to speak up for Sunthraze before he was released, and a longtime advocate of restricting the sale of firearms to 'the masses' as he called the common people of Silvermoon, raised up the largest pistol of the whole group.

People started laughing. His daughter, Saturna, made an embarrassed groan.

Once more, all was quiet. A valet standing in line with the shooters waved a red flag.

Everyone held their guns at the ready. Then, several bright purple shards pierced the blue sky. They turned red once they came into range.

The first round of shots. The conjured arcane projectiles made satisfactory shattering sounds when they were hit, the sparkling remnants resumed their amethyst coloring, and then they swept around in loops to write the initials of the man who'd hit his target.

Expensive magic to prepare in advance, but definitely appreciated. Like a fireworks show, it was a little different every year. Those in the crowd gasped and were very approving. The shooters smiled proudly when they noticed their initials written in brilliant, sparkling purple magic. After Arthas took his shot, he lowered his gun and really grinned, impressed.

Anasterian was standing beside Arthas. Arthas made a jovial gesture across the way. But this time, Anasterian looked at Arthas like he had two heads. It was an impolite thing to do in Highborne society, once a competition was on. They certainly weren't done with the results.

A clear rapport and then the sure split of a sparking, spiraling target marked Britecleff as one of the lucky ones as well. The bullet was so fast and accurate that it was sent straight through, clean. Britecleff lowered his pistol as twined plumes of smoke swept round and made his initials, 'B.B.'

People who missed their targets were asked to take a step back and wait for the next event. They did so over light clapping. Then, all was reset. A second call for silence. The valet holding the red flag high swept it down again. In moments, twelve more purple shards flew across the sky, then gleamed red.

The rapport of shots this time was more in tandem, exacting. More experienced shooters had made it to this round. 'B.B.' and 'A.M.' hovered for the longest in the air, both Britecleff and Arthas had quickly made very good shots. Then, "B.M." Lord Byron Mageblade, and after careful, studious aim, "A.S." left Anasterian in the running as well. After, "Z.L." became apparent. People looked around, confused.

"Zachary Lionheart," the shotmaster called, to quell confusion. This was the name of Arthas' squire and closest manservant, a Human rogue and now proven to be a very good shot, indeed.

The others who missed stepped back.

Silence. Reset. The men were handed rifles to use this round. The red flag dropped.

The last targets were smaller, which nobody expected. The audience made its noises of excitement or disapproval. Britecleff furrowed his brow, set his teeth. Pointed, shot. Then did it a second time, quickly.

Arthas aimed and shot. He found that his target was gone.

Anasterian pointed his golden revolver and got the tail end of one. Zachary lowered his gun, confused and out of respect for his master. Lord Byron blasted his giant pistol several times and missed each time.

So, the last purple target escaped.

The shotmaster stepped down from the podium, consulted a few of the designated observers wearing purple livery for this exact purpose.

"This is ridiculous. Hey!" Arthas pointed at Britecleff, "You think I didn't see what you did? You stole my shot."

"I thought I missed, so I shot twice. But I only hit my target, twice. Funny though, all that gun and you missed every bit of the target."

"You hit mine! You took it!"

"Prince Arthas, I hit only one target. I did so two times in a row. I watched it bounce..." Then, Britecleff trailed off as he realized what the real outcome must have been. An excellent moment not to say anything more.

Anasterian started laughing. Celestia shook her head from where she sat in a makeshift throne in the stands with her courtiers. It was a very rude and unhelpful thing for Anasterian to do, get between the Farstrider military and the future Human king of the land on their border, which the Farstriders patrolled.

Celestia raised her voice, again taking up the task to mend it, "Couldn't we have some resolution, officials? Perhaps a re-shoot?"

Lord Mageblade sounded very eager for it.

The announcement came, "The ruling is, it is a tie. Only Britecleff and Prince Menethil will re-shoot. Zachary Lionheart clearly forfeited his chance and our king… he may shoot again, in the final round with the one who breaks the tie."

Anasterian nodded once, satisfied with this. Eventhough it did seem a little fixed. And it also must have meant that Anasterian had certainly grabbed someone else's target, if not his own. But no one was going to say that.

"I see how this thing is run," Arthas glared past Anasterian, to the other man he was free to get so angry with. Britecleff.

Britecleff was angry too, he wanted to speak out about Anasterian botching the whole thing buot of course he couldn't. Britecleff shook his head instead. Arthas marched over and stood beside the shorter Highborne. Zombie shotgun in hand, far taller, and more than intimidating.

Daphne clasped her hands together. Then, for some reason, Sylvanas took Daphne's hands in her own, so nervous.

Silence. Flag raised.

"You'll miss your shot, Arthas."

It was tense, but Arthas looked to the sky instead now, made ready. Britecleff greatly disliked standing so close to him, if they were going to re-shoot and there was so much contention.

Two targets were released. They glowed purple. Arthas held his arm out, with the pistol, waiting.

Britecleff shot first, before the shards turned red. Then, he shot again.

The crowd gasped, embarrassed for Arthas. He had been upstaged twice. If it had been an accident before—and secretly on Anasterian's part—it wasn't a mistake now. Britecleff had got both the targets, without waiting for them to come into range for the average shooter. Because Britecleff was above average.

"You're an asshole." Arthas informed Britecleff, turned on him.

"Come on now, be happy. You already got everything you truly wanted while you were out in the country."

It was a very dangerous comment, indeed.

Back in the crowd, Sylvanas squeezed Daphne's hands so hard, she was hurting her. Daphne made a noise, a kind of whimpering, crushed puppy sort of noise.

It reminded Britecleff of where he was, who he was, and why.

Britecleff said, carefully, "There are a lot of good shots at the Windrunner estate. Clearly, they gave you plenty of chances to practice on Highborne arcane targets before coming here, Arthas. One doesn't go directly from shooting clay disks or ducks, over to arcane targets overnight, that's impossible." Britecleff slowed down, tried to sound as diplomatic as possible to make up for his anger earlier. "However, in this style of shooting, you can't miss and you can't let someone outshoot you. Prince Arthas, you've done well, but this just isn't your game."

Arthas stood there, looking down on Britecleff. Then, he set his jaw tight and took a large step back. The shootmasters gestured new instructions and Britecleff walked over to where King Anasterian was standing and took his new place for the final round.

Britecleff's hand, ready over the gun in its holster, was visibly shaking, though.