A/N: This is the second chapter uploaded, the previous one is "New Day, New Allies." Please read that first if you haven't. Do excuse any errors, I do my best.
Emdies, 11 of Nonumensis, 687 IC || Taungsday, Telona 32, 10 ABY.
Tertia Diei Hora (Third Hour of the Day) || 0900 standard hours.
Formal Family Manor, Italica.
Bozes made her way through the halls of the Formal manor, with Panache and a blonde fox-featured maid, following closely.
Bozes had a single destination in mind, the dining room, where breakfast was to be served. Count Formal, like many days prior, had invited her and Panache to dine with him and his family. As Piña's representative, it would be improper and rude to refuse. Such was the case for the last few days, but today was different.
Luke Skywalker woke up last night. Bozes and Panache would finally get to meet the man who caused this mess.
Panache sped up to match Bozes' brisk pace, "All right, remember what the princess said—"
"Don't antagonize him, I know," Bozes cut in.
"The look on your face says otherwise."
Bozes realized she was scowling and shifted her face to be more impassive, "I cannot help it, especially with the princess risking herself."
"The princess knows what she is doing, and Sir Grey is by her side. If she can sway a few senators, then we are better off."
"But why must it be her? Why must she answer for the inadequacy of the Senate?" Bozes lamented.
Panache stopped Bozes by putting a hand on her upper-arm. "Because she is Piña, and she will protect her people without hesitation."
Bozes gave a nod, knowing that to be true. "I only wish I was with her."
Panache gave a smile. "Do you not trust Sir Grey?"
"With my life, but not with the subtlety needed when dealing with noble socialites. I attended enough symposiums during my father's time in the Senate to understand that, among nobles, a silver tongue goes further than a steal blade," Bozes said.
"Then let us hope Sir Grey keeps his rusted tongue at bay, lest he cause a political incident," Panache joked.
Bozes smiled at that and retorted, "He'll be too preoccupied dodging all the single third or fourth daughters practically prostrating for his hand in marriage."
Panache let out a laugh. "How unfortunate that we are not there to witness it."
"My ladies, forgive me for interrupting, but we are here," the maid told them.
Engrossed in their conversation, Bozes and Panache did not notice that they reached the hallway leading to the dining room.
Bozes momentarily froze as she noticed someone else already standing outside the dining room.
"Here we go," Panache whispered before they stepped forward to finally meet the man who caused their princess so much anxiety.
Clad in black, sporting dusty, blonde hair and no longer in a coma, Luke Skywalker stood just ahead. He was having light conversation with the maid sent to get him. A moment later, he noticed Bozes and Panache staring.
Luke gave a simple nod and smile. Although Piña warned them of Luke's odd behaviors and lack of propriety, Bozes was not entirely sure what to expect from him.
At first glance, he was nothing special. A man of average height, youthful features, and casual presentation. His clothes were unlike anything Bozes had seen, far more intricate and delicate than even the most skilled tailors could craft. Although simple in overall appearance, the fact that Luke wore such skillfully crafted clothing denoted his rank, yet as Piña stated, he did not act like someone of status. She would say he appeared casual, uncaring even.
Bozes suddenly felt enraged. How dare he act so nonchalant, conversing with maids as if he had no worries? She understood that men like him knew how to reign in their emotions and keep appearances, but as Bozes looked at him, she was reminded of Princess Piña's plight. The stress Princess Piña faces in her deception, the doubts, the uncertainty the princess has shared with Bozes over hologram. Bozes thought she would be able to reign it in, as Piña asked of her, but finally seeing the man behind it all, pushed at the limits of her willpower.
Swallowing and remaining stoic, Bozes stood directly in front of Luke and gave a respectful nod. "Sir Luke Skywalker, it is a pleasure to finally meet you, I am Lady Bozes Co Palesti, Princess Piña's liaison and second-in-command."
A pleasure it was not, but Bozes commended herself for being able to say that without scoffing. He deserves it after forcing her princess into such a precarious situation.
"Just do your best not to antagonize him, Bozes, for me."
Piña's voice rang in Bozes' mind, which eased her tension a bit. She unfurled her shaking fists, surprised by her own anger. Perhaps days of lamenting over her own uselessness was finally culminating in this fury aimed at Skywalker.
Panache joined her compatriot. "A pleasure to meet you, I am Lady Panache Fure Kalgi, third-in-command of the Order of Rose Knights."
Luke returned the bow. "Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker, the pleasure is mine."
Curt and to the point, and topped with a kind smile. This was the man who stood against the Reaper? He neither looked like a fighter, nor acted like a knight.
Panache's initial impression of Luke was not all that different than Bozes. She noticed his stiff and awkward attempt at being ceremonious, and deduced that he was uncomfortable. Instead of eyeing Luke with disdain and distrust, as Bozes did, Panache eyed him with curiosity.
This man, according to Sir Grey, won a bout against the Reaper. That information, alongside Luke's lack of boasting over his victory and Piña's own word, gave Panache some insight into the type of man he was. Additionally, it took a certain type of man to command such loyalty from his followers, which Panache noticed over the last few days. Not to mention Count Formal has not stopped singing praises for Luke since the former's return to Italica.
As both parties quietly and awkwardly eyed each other, another figure approached the dining room, Luke noticed first and greeted the newcomer.
"Rory, you're joining us," Luke called out to the priestess.
Bozes and Panache were understandably baffled.
To speak so casually to the Reaper, Bozes thought scandalized as Luke casually blasphemed. Bozes was not religious by any means, but even she knew only fools would disrespect the Reaper.
"Iam not one to refuse such lavish offerings," Rory replied with a smile.
How did he manage to appease the Reaper so easily? He must have a way with words if even Rory the Reaper took a liking to him, Panache was impressed. A part of her was jealous that Sir Grey managed to witness the fight between Luke and the Reaper, for it was surely a sight.
With Rory's arrival, the maids ushered the group into the dining room, where Count Formal and his family waited.
"Sir Luke, a pleasure to speak to you again, and from what I understand, now in the same language," Count Missna greeted Luke first, and extended his hand, having learned the custom from his time in captivity.
When Luke took it, he realized it was the arm that Missna lost, "I'm glad you managed to get a prosthetic. I hope you are adjusting."
"It is still a bit hard to believe," Missna started. "When your physicians told me they could give me a new arm, I thought they were mocking me."
Missna rotated his arm, eyeing it with lingering disbelief. "From the movement, to the feeling, and down to the very skin, it's incredible!" He then flexed his fingers in fascination.
Luke gave a genuine smile. "The least we could do to help in your recovery, but I apologize it came to this."
Missna shook his head. "Such is war, but providing me with this replacement is more than enough to reconcile."
"You are too kind, Count," Luke replied.
Missna, having become engrossed in his new arm, forgot to introduce his wife, Lui Missna, Count Formal's second daughter.
Luke sensed that she was a bit cold toward him, most likely for imprisoning Count Missna and causing him to lose his arm. Even then, she was courteous and genuinely grateful that Count Missna got a replacement.
Following Missna, Count Roen approached and introduced Elle Roen, his wife. Count Roen was polite but reserved, and Luke sensed Roen was grateful for the humane treatment he and his fellow counts received and was glad to be home in one piece. Countess Roen was appeased and thankful that her husband and father were returned in good health.
"Sir Luke, please have a seat." Count Formal motioned to the chair to his right. As it were, the seating began with Count Formal at the head of the table, Luke to his right, Count Roen and his wife to Luke's right, followed by Myui sitting opposite her father at the other end. To Myui's right was Rory followed by Bozes, Panache, and Lui Missna. Count Missna sat directly to Count Formal's left and directly opposite to Luke.
The food was well crafted porridge, fresh fruits, and some cured meats. It was a delicious array, and Luke was grateful for something solid after days of not eating. The first few moments passed with not much said, simple courteous conversation between parties.
Everyone danced around Luke, not really knowing how to talk with him or whether it was appropriate to do so. They all recognized the strangeness of the situation — prisoners breaking fast with their captor, but Luke noticed that they were at least trying, as awkward as it may be. If anything, the light conversation was merry.
"You truly met them?" Missna said in awe.
"That would explain your sudden ability to speak our language, but to not only speak with them but visit their domain. You continue to do the impossible, Sir Luke," Roen spoke with equal awe.
"Well," Luke replied sheepishly, "I did not really have much to do with it."
"You are quite modest, Sir Luke. I doubt the gods would take interest in just anyone," Lui Missna added.
"How were they? Lord Eluran and Lady La, were they as the priests say?" Elle Roen asked with genuine interest.
"Dear," Count Roen cut in, "Sir Luke knows nothing of our customs, so I doubt he would know how we worship the gods of knowledge."
Luke thought back to his interaction with the two gods,"They were...respectable, and truly held knowledge in the highest regard."
"Of course they do, otherwise you'd be an apostle," Rory said.
"Right, your deal with them. Your knowledge for your mortality. You must have quite the will in order to strike a deal with gods," Count Formal said.
"I think it commendable, choosing humanity over godhood — with no disrespect Priestess," Lui Missna added, having realized that her words may come across as a slight toward the apostle.
Rory merely chuckled, "I still think it foolish."
"Why did you refuse, Sir Luke?" Panache spoke for the first time, drawing everyone's attention. Since breakfast began, Panache and Bozes remained quiet, choosing to observe Luke as he interacted with the Formal family.
Panache observed everything about him, keeping Princess Piña's words in mind. As it was, she had no reason to think anything Piña said was wrong. Luke was humble, calmly spoken, and seemed to shrink at the attention. Even if he hid it well, Panache was rather keen when it came to reading people.
Bozes however, did not observe with the same lens. She watched Luke speak with such familiarity, such sweet words, that she could not help but grow angrier. It was due to this man that Piña was in her situation. Even if the princess accepted her role, as rash as it was, she would not have to if not for Luke's presence. It all came down to his senseless righteousness, which Bozes doubted was genuine. There had to be something he wanted, something he hoped to gain from this world.
"I have no interest in the power nor the immortality, I am content with my mortal life," Luke answered.
Bozes scoffed. Everyone heard, but they gave Bozes the courtesy of pretending not to.
Bozes felt Panache's eyes on her, and glanced over to see her friend's disapproving glance.
"Not very subtle, Bozes," Panache whispered.
By now Luke engaged in conversation with Roen about some topic or other, not that Bozes really cared. They both missed how Luke's eyes lingered on both of them before he engaged with Roen.
"'Content with my mortal life', how pretentious," Bozes whispered back.
Panache sighed. "I understand your anger, but you are being a bit unfair."
"How can you sit here and not be enraged? This man is the reason Pi—"
"Piña made her own decisions, Bozes, and I am merely abiding by them," Panache said before taking another bite of her food.
"As if she really had a choice between annihilation and treason."
Panache said nothing, so Bozes kept eating.
"The porridge to your liking, Sir Luke?" Count Formal asked as the meal neared its end.
Luke nodded, "Yes, it's very good. I am not a connoisseur, but this is perhaps the best porridge I've ever had, you have excellent taste."
Count Formal let out a chuckle, "I'll be sure to tell our chef, though it was Myui who chose the meal this morning. Our chef's porridge was always her favorite."
All eyes fell on the young lady as she was midchew. She froze at the attention and swallowed before a maid quickly wiped some porridge off the young countess' cheek. Myui's blushed, and she was clearly fighting back a pout.
"Father, that's embarrassing," Myui said.
Count Formal released a hardy laugh at her embarrassment.
"It is my duty as a father to tease my adorable daughter!"
Myui's grew redder. "Father!"
"You mustn't eat so much, baby sister, men do not enjoy a woman who stuffs her face," Elle chastised.
"As if you were any different, Elle," Lui replied, receiving a unladylike snarl from her sister.
Count Formal released another round of laughter, somewhat exaggerated in its sincerity. The elder sisters chided back and forth, with Myui caught in the middle.
Formal's laughter subsided, and Luke noticed the elder grow quiet. A series of emotions reflected in Formal's eyes as he watched his daughters, his family. There was a sudden sheen to the Count's eyes, and Luke looked away.
Luke already felt as if he were intruding upon this family, but to see Count Formal overtaken by emotions, made Luke feel even more out of place.
Formal cleared his throat. "Thank you, Sir Luke," Formal spoke in a whisper.
"You're welcome, Count, but you have nothing to thank me for. If anything I should thank you."
"Nonsense," Formal said louder, which drew attention. "You brought us back to our families, and for that we will be forever grateful."
"It was the least we could do Count Formal, and you have already repaid us enough with your hospitality," Luke said.
"Hospitality, yes, though that does raise the topic of your presence here," Formal said.
The table grew quiet, and Panache and Bozes were keenly focused as they feigned interest in their food.
"Right, I understand allowing us to stay here puts you at great risk—"
"Although that is true, I was not referring to that, and if this is a topic you rather not discuss here, I understand, but I wished to know how you plan to go about freeing the slaves," Formal said.
Luke gave a nod,before his eyes glanced over the other people at the table. Many avoided his gaze, with the two counts and their wives having new found interest in their meal.
"That is something we would wish to know as well,"Bozes addressed Luke for the first time. "As Princess Piña's liaisons, we speak in her place, and as such, must know what your presence here entails."
The mood of the table's occupants shifted, and Luke got the notion that this topic was not popular.
Luke cleared his throat, "I understand that my presence here put Princess Piña in a...precarious situation."
"Oh, do you?" Bozes barely held back a sneer.
"I do, and I'm sorry that it came to this," Luke said.
"You fool no one with your false sympathy," Bozes scoffed.
"It isn't false. I never wanted Piña to put herself in danger," Luke said.
"That is quiet hard to believe, since you are still here," Bozes said.
"As I told the Princess several nights ago, I will not leave while there are people enslaved," Luke stated firmly.
"But what do you want? What do you hope to gain?" Bozes demanded an answer.
"Their freedom," Luke replied.
"But why?" Bozes spoke, having had enough. "Why would you pour so many resources and time into a world that is not yours? Is it the land you want, the people? Is adoration what you seek? Fealty? Or is it some sadistic pleasure derived from making us look like fools."
Bozes spoke louder than she intended, but she could not stay silent anymore.
Luke stared at Bozes with what she assumed was pity, "Is it hard to believe that I simply wish to help people."
Luke's answer was simple, and Bozes slammed her hand on the table, "These are not your people!
"Bozes," Panache hissed, stopping Bozes before she could continue.
It was then Bozes realized she was stood, leaning over the table. Her face flushed, but she maintained her resolve to continue, albeit with a calmer disposition.
Before Bozes could take a seat, Luke stood to match her.
"Your rage is justified, but I feel you use it to hide your true feelings…I underst—"
"Stop," Bozes interrupted Luke before he could continued, her voice even and insulted. "Stop saying you understand whenyou understand nothing. You may not want war, but being here is enough to warrant war a thousand times over. You are an enemy nation, who has infiltrated one of the Empire's most important cities. Ally or not, Italica is effectively under occupation, and such a thing will not go unnoticed for long, even Princess Piña knows her deception is merely delaying the inevitable."
"Then let us help you. If we coordinate our efforts, then there is chance for a peaceful resolution, or at least a means to keep war from breaking out," Luke said.
Bozes' snapped. "If you want to help, then leave! Leave and never come back! Just leave, go back to your world, forget about this one; you defended your land, you saved your ally, you need not waste more time and energy here. Leave this world's problems to its people."
It was a logical argument, and it was not lost on Luke. Bozes waited for a response, and held Luke's gaze, unwavering.
There was a lull in conversation, and the other occupants of the room, who had focused on the arguing two, waited for either Luke or Bozes to say anything.
Luke chose to break the silence. "I'm sorry," He started, "that we caused you and Princess Piña such grief, I truly am, but I cannot leave."
Bozes slightly deflated at Luke's response. "There is truly nothing to convince you?"
Luke paused, genuinely giving the question deep thought. A moment passed before he spoke again.
"If you could guarantee that every slave in your empire were freed and given full protection, be it now or the near future,in accordance to your empire's citizenship laws, and if they do not wish to remain citizens, allow them to do what they wish with their freedom, within reason of courseand without fear of capture, then I will gladly leave and never return," Luke knew Bozes' reply before she spoke.
"You ask the impossible." Bozes glared, believing Luke was mocking her.
Luke wore a neutral expression. "Thenall I can offer are my apologies."
Bozes grew silent as she looked down at the table. Her eyes were pinned on Luke, who met the gaze unwavering. Bozes scrutinized Luke's features for an awkward amount of time.
"Then I suppose this is all I can offer…" Bozes trailed off in a relatively calm tone, but Panache grew tense at the words. Panache eyes darted between Bozes' face and clenching hands.
There was silence, a lull before Bozes moved. In a sudden, swift motion, Bozes' hands left the table and went to her belt and scabbard.
Panache, fearing the worse, jumped from her seat, sending her chair clattering to the ground. As Bozes went to unsheathe her sword, Panache reached out and shouted, "Bozes, no!"
Panache was a second too late, but rather than unsheathing her longsword, Bozes quickly removed the scabbard and sword from her belt and slammed it onto the table, making the cloth shift and tableware clink. Everyone was fixed on the sight, and a few maids had stepped forward defensively.
Bozes features were fierce and resolute. "Then this is all I can offer. Sir Luke Skywalker, I call upon the ancient writs and challenge you to a duel in Emroy's name."
"Bozes, are you mad!?" Panache pulled Bozes by her breastplate, forcing Bozes to face her. "Do you know what you've done!?"
"You heard him, there is nothing outside of the impossible that will get him to leave, so I find there is no other option than to appeal to his honor. If he truly is a knight, then he shall face me!"
"You stand against every order Princess Piña gave us!"
Bozes' fierceness wavered, a semblance of shame and uncertainty sweeping of her features. It faded quickly. "I know, thus you understand I do not do this lightly!"
Bozes shook free of Panache's grasp, and faced Luke again, seeking an answer.
Luke stood calmly and took in the room. It was clear by the silence and looks of surprise mixed with some awe or excitement, that this was no mere challenge. It was when Luke's eyes landed on Rory, that he knew any chance of refusal was slim to none.
"Oh my, to invoke the Lord's writ in my presence, clever child. It seems you are in a bind, Luke," Rory said joyfully.
"From your tone, I take it I can't refuse, can I?"
"Well, you can, but in accordance with my lord's writs, 'to forfeit a sword is to forfeit a life.'" Rory said rather casually despite the implication of her words.
"If I may, Priestess," – Count Formal paused for affirmation — "is it fair for us to bind Sir Luke with writs he knows not?"
"Despite his reluctance, Sir Luke is a warrior and knight, so ignorance will not absolve him of dueling in Emroy's name," Rory explained, all while staring straight at Luke.
Luke realized that Rory was being wholeheartedly honest, and not just attempting to make things difficult, yet there was a sign of mischief behind Rory's eyes.
Moving his gaze back to Bozes, Luke answered. "Before I commit to anything, know that I do not wish to fight you."
"We both have things we do not want. You do not wish to leave this world due to your goal and I do not want you to remain and put my princess in further danger. Hence this duel, a fair chance for one of us to get what we want."
A fair chance, Luke thought, as everyone waited with bated breath.
Luke had no qualms with Bozes or Panache or Piña, but conflict is expected given he plans to uproot their society. Though to duel this girl, barely an adult, was not something Luke thought he would need to do. Luke understood her desperation to protect the ones she loved. At one time, he faced such desperation and it cost him his arm.
In his silence, he observed Bozes.
She did not do this lightly, he thought.
It was clear from the conflict he sensed in her that Bozes did not wish to duel Luke, and most likely felt this was the only way to salvage such a hopeless situation.
His own safety and life aside, Luke could not refuse, It would be insulting to Bozes, to disregard her challenge. He had to respect her risking her life for her friends, even if he disagreed with it.
"Then what are the terms?" Luke finally said allowing the others in the room to take a breath.
"In according to Emroy's Writs: swords, now, and to the death. Panache Fure Kalgi shall be my second, and the location shall be behind the manor. I would also ask the holy priestess if she would allow an additional term to be met upon victory."
"Granted. That always makes it more exciting, but do remember it must be agreed upon by both parties to be of equal value, and I shall mediate if no such agreement comes to pass," Rory said.
"Of course. Upon my victory and your death, all of your warriors and people will immediately return to your world. No questions asked and never to return, is that agreeable?" Bozes asked.
Luke merely nodded. "I agree with most terms, but I do not agree with it being to the death, how about first blood or incapacitation?"
"Impossible, according to Emroy's Writs, it must be to the death," Bozes insisted, which was odd given she too was staking her life.
Luke sought to reason against that term, but he glanced at Rory again, to see the girl smiling mischievously at him.
"Is that true?" Luke asked.
Rory gave a shrug, "Most interpretations suggest as much."
Luke's eyes remained on Rory, trying to discern what she was not telling him. She met his gaze: her dangerous, crimson eyes glistening at him. The shine in those eyes was all he needed to answer.
"Then I will follow Emroy's Writs, and should I win, you will do as I ask, Bozes Co Palesti," Luke said.
Bozes gave him an odd stare, "That is nonsense, should you win, I would be dead, ordo you purposefullyseek to command a corpse."
"That is my term, do you find it fair?"
Bozes stood dumbfounded as she searched for some sign of a trick in Luke's features, but found none. She glanced at Rory, seeking clarity, to which Rory merely gave a tilt of her head.
"The term must be fair, not logical," Rory said.
Bozes then turned to Panache, who leaned in close. "Whether he plans something or not, the term is fair, and under Rory's gaze, I doubt he can do much."
Bozes nodded, seeing no other alternative, she spoke, "It is fair, if illogical."
Rory then clapped her hands, "Then let us duel! In the name and glory of my lord, Emroy!"
The morning after Luke woke up.
Taungsday, Telona 32, 10 ABY || Emdies, 11 of Nonumensis, 687 IC.
0945 standard hours || Tertia Diei Hora (Third Hour of the Day).
Formal Family Manor, Italica.
The word spread much like a plague, and the entire manor soon knew that there was to be a duel. Not just any ordinary duel between two nobles over some perceived slight, but a duel between two knights. Two mighty warriors in defense of their lieges, or at least that is how the rumors put it.
The duelists and a fairly large group gathered behind the manor to prepare for the duel. The large crowd remained at the base of the steps leading into the manor, while the duelists found themselves some meters in front of the crowd. Count Formal was quick to give orders, having servants prepare the location for the duel. The preparing was not anything grand and was more having the gardeners trim any overground grass and foliage. Due its proximity to the stables, the back of the manor was mostly barren so it was a quick task.
Afterward, servants brought tables covered in an intricate cloth, baring Italica's banner: a cross made of two pairs of parallel lines, the four arms of the cross representing the highways out of the city, and a circular coin baring a dragon on the top right, which represented the Empire and Italica's status as a merchant city.
The two tables were placed meters apart, denoting the duelists respective sides. Servants stood at the tables' sides, one holding a simple flask of water, the other holding a wrapped sword.
Panache and Bozes stood at the table situated left of the manor steps. Panache gently unlaced the leather strap which tied down Bozes' breast plate. There was an awkward silence between the two before Bozes chose to break it.
"What is on your mind?" Bozes asked.
Bozes did her best not to react to Panache's scoff. "So now you care what I think."
"Panache—"
"No—" Panache paused after realizing she had shouted. She did not wish to further tarnish her image by having another outburst like she did in the dining room.
"No," Panache started softly so only Bozes could hear, "I shall not humor your excuses."
"Excuses!" Bozes seethed in an odd mixture of a whisper and shout, having no qualms of others hearing her."You think I wished to do this? To go against Piña's word! To stake my life! I do what I do out of duty, not pride!"
"A duty we share, or did that leave your mind when you plotted this duel of yours," Panache said angrily.
"As if you would have agreed!"
"Why would I agree with you throwing your life away!" Panache shouted as she clutched onto Bozes' unarmored shoulders — the breastplate abandoned on the table, leaving Bozes in a simple, tight tunic, which extended over her trousers.
As if struck, Bozes took hold of Panache's arm. Panache pulled away, but Bozes held firm.
Bozes swallowed in an attempt to suppress any potential quivering in her voice. "Have you such little faith in me—"
Panache scoffed. "Do not insult me, Bozes."
"You insult me by assuming I have already lost!"
"Bozes" — Panache's gripped Bozes' arms with a frantic strength — "He bested the Reaper! The Reaper!" Panache shouted Rory's moniker as she slightly shook Bozes with each emphasis.
"Grey said that Sir Luke was on the defensive for most of that fight, and only won because of his strange magic, something he will cannot utilize during this duel."
"Yet you forget that he lives. Magic aside, he was able to survive his duel with Rory, and that is enough be wary of him."
"From what Grey told us, it's most likely the Reaper was holding back, and I don't doubt Sir Luke would say the same. If I am to have a chance, it is during this duel. Set rules and no magic, just our swordsmanship," Bozes reasoned.
Panache stepped away and leaned on the table. "This is a gamble, Bozes. Your chances of winning aside, we do not know if Sir Luke's allies will even agree to your victory. Say you kill him and win the duel, what f his allies seek revenge?"
"I took your advice to trust Sir Luke's nature, and now you are scolding me for doing so?"
"I never said I trusted him" —Panache jabbed a finger at Bozes' chest — "I trusted Piña's intuition, trusted her plans, even when I did not agree with them. By doing this you have jeopardized her plan and gone against her direct order to not antagonize him!"
"And I shall willingly submit myself to any and all punishments after this is over."
"If you survive."
"I will."
Panache released an exasperated sigh as she turned away from Bozes. "If only I had half of your confidence, Bozes."
A few seconds of silence passed between them, and Bozes thought that to be the end of the conversation.
"You know," Panache started as she spoke over her shoulder, "I feel your recklessness is contagious because even in all my anger, a part of me is oddly supportive of this —oh, don't look so shocked Bozes, or did you think you were the only one who felt helpless?"
Bozes was momentarily at a loss for words.
"Do not misunderstand, this duel is reckless and could very well mean your death, but I commend your initiative, even if I find this whole ordeal too drastic."
"I did not walk into that room with the intention to duel Sir Luke, it was a last resort. I trust Piña more than anyone in the world, but I was sure her impression was wrong. That she had missed his deceit due to the chaos of everything, yet no matter how hard I tried I did not notice anything. Even with my prodding, with my pressuring, he did not falter, or he did and I missed it," Bozes explained.
"No, you are not wrong." Panache glanced at Luke, who stood surrounded by his allies. "I did not catch any deceit from his words, perhaps omissions, but otherwise he seemed to speak truth and that worries me. This would all be easier if he was lying, which is still a possibility, but one I am finding harder to believe. If anything, he at least believes in what he spouts, as do his allies, which makes any retaliation harder."
"Whatever the case, I have challenged and shall not — cannotback down, my honor depends on it," Bozes said.
Panache pushed herself off the table and took Bozes' hands. "Bozes, listen to me, not as a knight but as a friend —you do what you must to survive, even if it means surrendering. Honor be damned."
Bozes paused and held Panache's jade stare for longer than expected. "We are knights, even when the Empire refuses to acknowledge us, and I will act as one. Should I lose, tell Piña that my only regret is not being strong enough to protect her."
Panache merely shook her head as she looked away. "You fool, as if Piña wants you to be anything more than what you already are."
XVIII - | In Thy Name | - XVIII
As Bozes and Panache had their conversation, Luke was checked over by the First Recon Team's medic.
"Scans are clear. No abnormalities in the brain, heart, liver, kidneys, or any other vital organs. There is a bit of stiffness in your muscles, but luckily our efforts prevented the onset of muscle atrophy. Nonetheless, I cannot say I recommend you do this, General," Sergeant Oruwaa reported after finishing her quick physical, tapping away at her tablet.
Some of the First Recon Team stood around Luke, who prepared himself for the coming duel. The other members of the team stood at the entrance of the manor, some eagerly awaiting the fight.
"I somewhat agree with her, sir. I don't get why you do this," Sergeant Major Iroso said.
"Him and me both," Han cut in. "I leave for what, five minutes, and you get into a fight to the death with some kid!"
Chewbacca, who towered over the group, released a round of roars, expression his similar concern though not necessarily disagreeing.
"I felt I could not refuse out of respect for Bozes."
"Mind filling us in on what you mean, because this seems rather rash, even for you," Han said.
"I don't really know the extent of it, but this is more than a simple challenge. It took a lot for Bozes to do this after things got a bit heated during breakfast. It seems like a last resort — a means to remedy a hopeless situation. A attempt to save the princess," Luke explained.
"We did nothing to the princess, she left weeks ago," Oruwaa said.
"Yeah and of her own accord. We did not force her to do anything," Iroso added.
"Perhaps not directly but indirectly is another story. To Bozes, my goal of freeing the slaves is forcing the princess to act. In a way she's right. We have presented these people with an impossible scenario in which a militarized force from another world seeks to disrupt a core aspect of their society. We use weapons and technology they cannot comprehend, so imagine the level of fear that Princess Piña feels to push her to rush off and deceive the very people she may one day rule as reckless as that may be," Luke said.
Han nodded as he began wrapping his head around the idea. "Then this kid, who is sworn to protect the princess, is left hopeless since she can do nothing. Desperation leads to people doing some stupid things, like a duel for example."
"I can relate a bit — the desperation to save those we love will often cloud any reason. That said, I feel calling this stupid is unfair. Even in her desperation, Bozes gave a valid argument against us being here, and chose diplomacy rather than violence. A low bar, I know, but it's more than I would have done at her age," Luke said.
"Last I checked a duel is pretty violent, Luke."
"Less violent that attacking me outright, something I am certain she held back on."
Han released an exasperated groan as he rubbed his eyes. "Okay, fine. I'll trust you have something up your sleeve, kid, as always. Though I am curious to see how you get out of this one."
Chewie gave Luke a simple shrug and a "Good luck" in Shyriiwook before joining Han.
"Me too, Han," Luke mumbled as Han and Chewie walked away.
As Luke glanced over to Han's retreating back, he noticed Count Formal walk up, giving Luke a nod as they locked eyes.
Oruwaa and Iroso noticed the count. "I think that is our cue. Whatever happens, General, we'll follow your lead," Iroso said, gaining a simple nod from Luke. Oruwaa and Iroso left to join their teammates at the steps, Iroso quick to chastise Aya, who seemed far too eager for the duel to start.
Count Formal cleared his throat. "Sir Luke, a word?"
Luke gave a nod and smile. "Of course, Count."
"Sir Luke, I simply wish to offer my apologies for not doing more to stop this. I know it is unfair to push our traditions and laws on someone who is not even of our world but—"
"It is all right, Count Formal. If anything, I should thank you for attempting to stop it."
"Again, your graciousness is appreciated, but in the chaos, I am sure you were left with more questions than answers. If you have any questions, I will do my best to provide a proper answer before this begins," Count Formal offered.
"Thank you, Count.Since you offer, I am curious of Emroy's Writs. I gathered they are some sort of holy texts."
"Put simply, yes, butto be more specific, they are a series of scriptures written by Emroy himself prior to his ascension. Given the Empire's chief deity is Emroy, these scriptures are sometimes used when dealing with certain issues, dueling being but one. Now this does not mean that every duel between begrudged nobles is scrutinized so heavily, in fact most are not."
"Unless Emroy's Writs are invoked," Luke deduced.
Formal nodded. "Traditionally, according to Imperial law, any duel in which one or both party invokes Emroy's Writs, must be considered binding. Over the centuries, as the Empire's influence spread, the tradition grew to such a degree that duels in Emroy's Writs became rare due to the severity of invoking such holy scriptures."
"So although other nations may not follow the Empire's laws, they acknowledge the Writs."
"Oh yes, to the point where kings may invoke them to prevent full scale war. In fact, the last invoking — or at least, the last major invoking — was during the Emperor's campaign against Alguna. King Sanxo knew his army stood no chance against the Empire's, but rather than accept the Emperor's offers of vassalage, he chose to challenge the Emperor to a duel and invoked the Writs.With the terms being, should his champion win, then Alguna would remain a free kingdom."
"But the Emperor won, of course."
"Yes, King Sanxo presented Sir Calisto Em Orto, who was considered the greatest knight in Algunan history, while Emperor Augustus presented the recently knighted, Sir Grey Co Aldo, a decorated Praetorian. The two dueled at the border between Alguna and the Empire, and When Sir Calisto fell, King Sanxo admitted defeat and agreed to become a vassal kingdom."
"Were there dissenters?"
"Of course there were, but even in their anger, no one questioned the duel's binding nature. The two rulers swore upon Emroy's Writs, in front of their courts and several respected clergymen. Even if King Sanxo wished to denounce the duel, it would only work to turn his own public against him. Instead he gained his people's reverence for avoiding war, and is remembered as Sanxo the Humble after his death."
Luke nodded, his options growing slim. "Thank you, that gives me more perspective on this."
"Again, I am sorry for not stopping this, and I wish you luck."
Luke gave a simple bow of his head as Count Formal returned to the steps. Left with his own thoughts, Luke did not notice another visitor. With her hair a bit of a mess, her robes hastily put on and with a few crumbs, Lelei walked up to Luke, who noticed her as she entered his periphery.
"Lelei, you're awake."
"As are you, Master, and you speak our language," Lelei said with mild astonishment.
"A story for later, but for now, I heard you kept busy with your new studies."
"Yes"- Lelei seemed to brighten (as much as one with so few expressions can brighten) as she revealed the holopad from within her robes. It was a standard, thin device that was common on the galactic market – "The knowledge from your world is amazing — no, it's revolutionary, and to think children learn this in schools." Lelei's level of excitement was not fully evident in her voice, which remained mostly unchanged from her normal monotone.
"I am glad you are excited, but I do not like that you disregarded your health. The knowledge will be there after you sleep, eat, or bathe. Do not deny necessities," Luke spoke calmly, but strictly.
Lelei simply nodded her head, emotionless as always, but Luke noted the faint color on her cheeks.
"Sorry, Master. There was so much to cover, I lost track of time," Lelei said.
Luke gave a nod and smile before he patted her shoulder. "Understood, just be careful, I would hate for you to get sick, and I would hate it even more if I had to restrict your holopad privileges."
Luke spoke jokingly, but the sudden emotion on Lelei's face (the emotion being a slight shifting of her brow, and her neutral expression gaining the smallest look of distress), had him holding back laughter.
"That aside, I assume you came because you heard of the duel," Luke said.
"The entire manor is talking about it, hard not to notice."
"Yeah, sorry, but it is nothing to be worried about," Luke reassured.
"Emroy's Writs were invoked, that could be considered worrying," Lelei retorted.
Luke gave a chuckle at Lelei's emotionless tone. "I suppose you are right, but don't worry, I'll be fine. A little secret between you and me, no one will die today."
Lelei looked like she wished say more, but Luke's reassuring smile stopped her. "All right." She nodded.
Luke watched her take a seat on one of the steps, seemingly indifferent to the entire duel.
"Ready then?" Rory asked from her place at the center.
Luke turned to her, and then glanced at Bozes and Panache. The two stood, their conversation ended, and waited for him. Closing his eyes and releasing a deep breath, Luke nodded as he let his cloak slip from his shoulders. "I am ready."
Bozes seemed to stand even straighter than she already was, and quickly shared a glance with Panache, silent words passing between them.
"I too, am ready!" Bozes announced.
Rory smiled and brought her hands together. A clap resonating as the wind picked up dust. "Then today, we stand before two mighty warriors! The Lady Bozes Co Palesti, the challenger, and Luke Skywalker, the challenged. They shall duel in the name of the mighty, Lord Emroy, seeking to bask in the glory of battle! The terms are as follows: Upon the victory of Bozes Co Palesti, the entirety of Luke Skywalker's forces shall depart from Falmart for their home world and never return.Upon the victory of Luke Skywalker, he shall be granted a request from Bozes Co Palesti!
"In witness, I, the apostle of Emroy, Rory Mercury, act as arbitrator and swear in my lord's name that the outcome of this duel shall be upheld," Rory paused as she motioned toward Bozes and Panache.
Panache took a step forward. "In witness, I, Lady Panache Fure Kalgi, swear in the name of her highness, Princess Piña Co Lada, that no matter my allegiances or beliefs, I shall uphold the outcome of this duel."
Rory then turned to Luke, who stood alone, "Luke, have you no second to swear as a witness?"
Luke, having completely forgot about that part, quickly turned to Han. Han, having understood everything due to his translator gave Luke an incredulous look.
Han grumbled before he faced Rory and spoke loudly. "I, Han Solo, swear that I will uphold the outcomes of this duel."
"Thus the witnesses are sworn! Present arms!" Rory proclaimed.
The two servants with swords stepped forward. They both presented the sword to their respective duelist, bowing their heads as they did so.
Luke was hesitant at first, having no real grasp of what he was supposed to do. As it were, this entire duel seemed procedural and laced in a tradition that he barely understood.
Bozes held no hesitations, and quickly took the sword in her hand. Having fought with her custom made longsword for years now, she held the weapon and shifted it in her hands to adjust. The sword was a simple thing, nothing flashy. It was on the shorter end of most longswords, bearing a simple hilt wrapped in fine leather, a bit flattened to help with alignment, and a straight crossguard separating the hilt from the blade. The hilt was just long enough for two hands, but was also fit for single-handed use, as evident by the sword's size. Overall, a bland but effective longsword that was expertly made and fiercely sharp.
Luke's sword was identical, or as identical as a master swordsmith can make it. He held the sword, noting the weight was greater than his lightsaber. Luke slashed the air, hearing the fierce 'woosh' that accompanied the weapon. He moved it about, trying to adjust to the additional weight carried by a weapon of metal.
As the duelists inspected their weapons, Staff Sergeant Amoti whispered to Sergeant Major Iroso.
"Are we really leaving if General Skywalker loses?" Amoti asked.
"Seems that way, though I doubt he will," Iroso replied.
"Sergeant, This is meant to be a fight to the death, right?" Aya having heard Amoti's question whispered to her superior.
Iroso shrugged. "It seems that way, but I have a hard time seeing the General agreeing if that was the case."
"You think he has a plan?" Sergeant Turaa cut-in.
Iroso nodded. "I trust the General and knowing his character, understand that he would never agreed to this unless there was someway to get out of it."
"But how? Didn't he swear to fight to the death?" Sergeant Turaa asked.
"Relax, all of you." Han stepped up closer to the group, having caught some of the whispers. "If I know Luke, he has a plan already formed. He knows what he is doing, but just in case this goes sideways, all of you be ready to get the hell out of here. I already have the starspeeders on standby in case we need to make a quick exit," Han said, translator off.
The Recon Team nodded in understanding, growing slightly nervous at the prospect of having to make a quick getaway.
"Duelists, step forth," Rory said.
Bozes and Luke did so, both stepping closer to Rory until she motioned for them to stop.
"You stand here, o' mighty warriors, in the name of the graceful, Lord Emroy, in a show of honor and skill. Know that should either of your sides seek to undermine their oaths, their lives and honor shall forever be forfeit, understood?" Rory paused.
"Understood."
Bozes and Luke answered.
"You will duel fairly and any sign of foul play shall result in immediate loss, understood?" Rory paused again.
Again, the two answered.
"Understood."
Lord Emroy, Panache thought, truly praying for the first time in her life, If you truly care for us warriors, I pray you will ensure Bozes' blade is swift and true.
"Then may Lord Emroy's glory shine upon thee, and guide thy hand in honorable fury. May thy blades strike true, and thy soul find peace in victory or defeat. O' Lord, in thy name, let it be so." With her prayer recited, Rory raised her halberd before bringing down, mimicking an executioner.
"Begin!"
XVIII - | In Thy Name | - XVIII
Within the next second, Bozes took the sword into both her hands and struck at Luke's neck. As expected, Luke swiftly parried the sword with his own, prompting Bozes to take several steps back.
Bozes was quick to recover and slipped into a defensive stance. With the sword in both her hands and its blade aimed at Luke, she began slowly circling to the right. She expected the attack to fail, but hoped to catch Luke off balance for a follow up.
His reaction was swift, even without a good stance, Bozes thought.
Damn it, Bozes, that was risky, Panache lamented. She knew Bozes to be a bit headstrong when it came to fighting, self-confidence pushing her forth to end a bout quickly. Bozes' confidence was well founded, given she was one of the best sword fighters in the Rose Knights, but this was quite different from bouts or fighting untrained bandits.
Luke mimicked Bozes' movement, beginning to slowly circle her in the opposite direction. Bozes analyzed everything about Luke, trying to discern anything that may give her an advantage. Luke's stance was nonexistence as he held his sword at his side, leaving himself open from all angles. His posture seemed casual and loose, not at all threatening or aware that he should prepare for her attacks.
Bozes' mind raced back to her training. Grey taught her to always take advantage of any weakness she found. To analyze, deduce, then strike if the weakness allowed. Yet as she looked at Luke and his blatant openings, she felt a nagging sense of doubt.
Perhaps it was the way he moved or the way he held himself with a subtle aura of confidence that made Bozes uneasy. Luke is of another world, with training that could be so far from her understanding, it may seem nonsensical.
I find comfort that he is in the same position. He knows nothing of my training nor of my skills. I am as much a mystery as he is to me,Bozes thought.
Stay focused, do not let your confidence make you reckless. Take your time, Panache thought as she also analyzed Luke and drew the same conclusions. Bozes may be good at analyzing her opponents, but she could not hope to apply her usual tactics on such an enigmatic foe. Panache hoped the mutual lack of knowledge would ultimately work in Bozes' favor.
Bozes continued to circle Luke, slowly getting closer as she did so. Luke followed her movements, slowly circling Bozes as well — the distance between them growing shorter.
"That attack was quick and precise. You did not hesitate," Luke spoke, breaking the unnerving silence.
Bozes slowly grew closer. "Hesitation is death. It is a doubt that only works against you, if you were a true knight, you would know this."
"I do know that, more than you realize."
"Then why are you surprised? Did you think me incapable of taking a life?"
"Nothing like that, I was just commenting on your skill."
Bozes kept any signs of confusion off her face. "You do realize this is no mere bout, correct? We are not here to study our swordsmanship but to express it."
"And expressed it you have, rather frighteningly," Luke rubbed at his neck in a show of...
Is he...is he mocking me? Bozes thought.
"You jest at a time like this?! Do you think me a fool to challenge you!" Bozes shouted as she grew even closer, while Luke slightly moved away.
"The opposite, and I'm not trying to joke, merely saddened that it came to this," Luke responded.
"I gave you an alternative, a fair one, and you spat in my face with an impossibility! The time for words is over, fight or die!"
Bozes closed in, sending a horizontal slash at Luke's belly. Luke swung his blade upward, clashing with Bozes'.
"You are not wrong," Luke started as he blocked another slash, "Yet you do not realize that your fair alternative was an impossibility for me."
"It is you who does not realize!"
Bozes did not falter and quickly used the momentum from Luke's block to slash down at his shoulder. It was a perfect swing and perfect chance. He was open, and despite not knowing his methods or skills, Bozes understood her own. She knew this was it, a clean cut, perhaps not fatal, but a hit nonetheless. First blood was hers.
Instead of blood, Bozes was left speechless as Luke easily, seemingly effortlessly, dodged at the last second, the blade whistling passed him.
Bozes quickly stepped back to recover, surprised. How — I swore I had him!
Bozes expected Luke to eventually dodge, given his posture, but she did not expect such speed. It was unbelievable!
His speed is unlike anything I've seen. Bozes' blade was surely a hair away. Panache thought in astonishment. Even from her angle, which had Bozes' back to her, she saw how close the blade came to making contact.
"Good attack, nearly had me."
What is this. Is he trying to appease me with compliments?
Is this some kind of trick? To confuse her? Panache mulled over Luke's actions.
Suppressing her surprise, Bozes switched her stance, having the blade hilt closer to her head, the blade nearly resting on her elbows as it was aimed at Luke. She lunged again, her longsword gleaming in the sun, with a quick thrust at Luke's chest. He parried again forcing Bozes to stepped back before sending another slash.
Bozes' attacks were calculated and precise, but Luke's defense was oddly impressive, despite his lackluster stance. He moved with a fluid grace, always one step ahead of her strikes, and his footwork was impeccable, allowing him to sidestep and dodge her attacks with ease.
*CLANG*
Bozes recoiled again, before sending another swipe at Luke's neck.
*SHING*
Bozes sword scraped across Luke's, causing sparks to fly. She swung her sword once more, putting all of her strength behind the blow, but Luke still parried with ease.
Why can't I hit him? Bozes thought to herself, anger rising. She felt a brief moment of vulnerability as fear and doubt crept into her. The invasive thoughts growing and clawing at the back of her mind.
I was wrong. He's too strong. I'll die!
However, despite the danger, a small thrill ran through Bozes' veins. Facing a worthy opponent and testing her skills begins to fill her with a sense of excitement. Deep down, her childhood dream of being a gallant knight resurfaced as she currently played out one such fantasy. It was a strange, paradoxical feeling of fear and excitement that swirled deep in her gut.
Childish feelings mixed with a full understanding of the danger she faced. Bozes was fighting to the death for the honor and safety of her princess. The truest test for any knight. Again, the childish and impractical feelings surged, and she fought against them.
Suppressing the lingering feelings, Bozes refocused and struck again, but in her brief distraction, she miscalculated. It was a minor, near inconsequential error: a slight overextending of her arms as she went to strike. Luke dodged like before, but due to Bozes' slight mistake, had a clear opening to strike against her.
She's wide open! Panache nearly shouted.
In the that brief moment, time froze and Bozes realized this could be it. Luke could easily strike her down, and she was not fast enough to dodge. To her confusion, Luke did not take advantage of the opening, and merely stepped away. He did not even raise his sword against her.
Bozes recovered and nearly stumbled away. Her ears drumming heavily as her heart thudded in her chest.
"Why!" Bozes shouted, pausing to take deep breaths. She had been on the offensive until now and it was taking its toll. It was then Bozes realized that she was the only one attacking. Not once had Luke swung at her or pressed back. "Why do you not fight back! You swore to fight me in this duel as equals, yet you hold back like I'm beneath you."
Luke frowned. "You are not beneath me, in fact, I think you are incredibly skilled. If I was anyone else, I'd be dead."
Bozes' frustration grew. "Then why do you not try?! Is fighting a womannot worth the effort?!"
Luke's expression remained calm. "That has nothing to do with anything. I swore to duel, and I am doing just that."
Bozes let out a mocking laugh. "By dodging and blocking my attacks? Where is your honor as a knight, or do you find joy in insulting me!"
Luke's gaze hardened. "I would rather insult you than harm you."
Bozes faltered briefly before snarling. "You still fail to understand!"
Bozes continued her assault. She began to vary her attacks, switching from a basic stance and attacks, to using more feints and deceptions to try and catch Luke off guard. If he truly aimed to avoid any offensive action, then she would just have to break his defense.
Bozes swung her sword in wide arcs, then suddenly changed direction with a flick of her wrist. Luke's defense remained impenetrable, however, always anticipating her moves, deflecting or dodging them with ease.
How is this possible! Bozes thought as she once again backed away.
He reads her like a tome, no matter what she does, Panache thought, with the slightest amount of admiration. She could say, without a doubt, that Luke's defense was flawless despite outward appearances.
Bozes continued with a rapid series of attacks. She feinted to Luke's left, then quickly switched to thrust towards his right shoulder, then back again to his left. Keeping up a barrage of strikes in an attempt to tire Luke out. All blocked or dodged, without issue.
All he does is defend, so give him an attack he cannot defend! Bozes mentally yelled at herself.
Bozes rushed forward, her sword held in both hands. She swung downward in a heavy chop. Luke stepped back, parrying the attack with a swift, horizontal sweep of his sword. Anticipating this, Bozes shifted quickly and pulled her weapon back before thrusting it forward with lightning speed, aiming toward Luke's chest.
She has him! Panache watched, her fist clenching at Bozes' perceived victory.
In the mere moments before the sword could pierce Luke's chest, he quickly leaned back and swung his left hand upward to smack the flat of the blade. Bozes recoiled, and backed up to regain her footing. Once again they were at stand still.
She's growing tired, yet Sir Luke continues to play with her, how horrid. Panache thought, the bit of respect she gained for Luke beginning to seep away. It was one thing to pace out a fight to ensure victory, but this, this was offensive. Luke was not even trying to fight back.
This sentiment was shared by some of the viewers, yet they held their tongues as they had throughout the fight. Even those on Luke's side, despite not being privy to the traditions of such a duel, were quick to realize when Rory said no interference, it was absolute. No interjections, no shouts of praise or support, no distractions. No one dare interfere.
Bozes breathed heavily as she grew more and more tired with each passing minute. Luke on the other hand seemed unfazed outside a slightly heavier rising and falling of his chest.
Bozes shook her head, further disheveling her hair. "You are a disgrace. You claim that you rather insult me than harm me, but you fail to realize your insults cut deeper than any blade!"
"I never wished to−"
"Then why agree to duel?! To humor me? Out of pity?!" Through ragged breaths, Bozes shouted.
Luke was rendered silent at her tone.
"I do not know what the knights of your land consider honorable or just, but agreeing to duel me in such a sacred manner, only to mock me by refusing to fight! You say you acknowledge me but yours actions say otherwise!"
Luke paused, reassessing the situation. Everything he has said to Bozes during the duel was true. Her skill was incredible, and he could see that from the first attack. Every attack following, despite Bozes growing fatigue and anger, was precise, with the only error being the minor over extension. To have such skill at her age was remarkable.
Even then, he truly did not wish to fight her and felt that, even with his goals in mind, she did not deserve the shame defeat would bring. He understood this duel was rather important in terms of a knight's honor, but he had miscalculated just how important it was.
A wave of understanding washed over Luke, and he finds himself humbled by Bozes' fierce determination and unwavering spirit. He realized that his actions, or lack thereof, had unintentionally insulted her, belittled her skills, and disregarded the importance she placed on this duel.
"I laid everything down in this. My life, my honor, my pride, does that mean nothing to you?!"
"No, it means everything," Luke started, "I hoped to prolong this duel in hopes of exhausting you and rendering you unable to fight as an alternative means to end this.My intention was never to belittle you or your skills," Luke explained.
Panache's outer visage remained stoic from the sidelines, but a swirl of emotion slowly built within her.
Prolong in hopes of exhaustion? Sounds more like a ploy than the basis of some righteous intention. Whatever he claims, the fact is that he was toying with her this entire time. She clenched her fists, feeling a sudden protectiveness over Bozes. Respect? Does he even know the meaning? How can he speak of respect when he dances around all of Bozes' efforts. Bozes deserves an opponent who would engage her honestly, not this faux knight.
The anger in Bozes' eyes did not subside as she listened to Luke's words. Her fists clenched around her sword and her voice trembled with a mix of frustration and disappointment. "You think this was a display of respect? Toying with me, that is not respect, that is an insult to my honor as a knight!"
"You are right, I hoped by agreeing to the duel, it would reflect my eagerness to understand, to cooperate, but I had failed to fully take your feelings into account. Now I see my mistake. From this point, I shall fight you head on and show you the respect you deserve. You gave me all of your strength, so please allow me to show you mine."
Bozes was skeptical, her anger to the blatant disrespect still enveloping her being, yet she could see the shift in Luke's demeanor. Like all the times before, Luke spoke the truth or at least hid his deception masterfully. Bozes scanned his expression, searching for any hint of deceit, but all she found was honesty and a newfound determination.
"You speak honestly," Bozes stated, her stance shifting and her brow furrowing. She felt a trickle of sweat going from her brow to her chin.
Luke nodded. "As I have since we first met."
Panache's eyes narrowed slightly, searching for any signs of deception or trickery, but found none. Luke's words resonated with truth, even in the face of their skepticism. His remorse seemed genuine.
Then he has some honor after all.
Panache's anger resided somewhat, but she grew apprehensive once again. Then the duel will truly begin, and we will finally get a glimpse at the man who bested the Reaper.
"Very well, I acknowledge your honesty, but words can only go so far. Prove to me your words are not empty. Show me your skill as I've shown mine, and let us trade blows honorably!"
Luke remains silent as he gave a simple nod, his stance shifting. It was a simple stance, both hands on the hilt, the blade low and aimed forward.
I will need to be cautious again now that I know he shall fight back. How will he do it? How will he attack? Bozes' mind was spiraling, with every conceivable defense she could think of. Whether he struck from the right, left, center, or otherwise, she aimed to be ready. Again she analyzed Luke's stance.
I know he is fast, but at this distance, even he will struggle to reach me. I should have enough time to react, Bozes thought.
A silence fell on the duel. Neither party moved for what felt like an eternity. Bozes could feel the sweat building up around her neck and under her shirt. She resisted the urge to wipe it away as her eyes never left Luke's still form.
Bozes' trained eyes searched for any weakness, any opening she could exploit. She noted his balanced posture, the steady grip on his sword, and the calm resolve that emanated from him. But even as she prepared herself for the next exchange, that nagging sense of doubt returned, along with the childish excitement.
Just as a lull begun to settle and time seemed to stretch, the silence growing heavier with anticipation, he struck. In a blur of movement, Luke closed the distance between them with astonishing speed, each stride purposeful and efficient.
Bozes reacted swiftly, raising her sword to meet Luke's attack. The clash of their blades echoed through the air, reverberating with a power that sent a shudder down her spine. Despite her preparedness, she could not help but reel from the sheer force behind Luke's strike. The strength he exhibited was far beyond what she had anticipated. It was as if the very ground beneath her trembled with the strike, threatening to knock her off balance.
What is this? Bozes thought, as she tried to calm herself, yet the increased drumming in her chest only worked to distract her. Bozes noticed the stark difference in Luke's demeanor. His expression was serious, his visage fierce and unyielding. Gone was the hint of regret, replaced by a palpable intensity. This was not the same man from earlier.
Bozes thought back to her and Panache's initial impressions of Luke. His nonchalant air, his somewhat awkward presence as he spoke during breakfast. A man whom she could have sworn could not even hold a sword straight. How wrong she was.
Who is this man who stands before me? Bozes begun to feel a pressure in her chest as fear swarmed her body. She did not know why it hit so hard, but looking at Luke, she could not help but feel so small. Never had she felt like this, not even when she dueled Sir Grey, one of the greatest swordsmen of his generation.
Never had she felt this intuitive feeling of impending loss. It brought to mind stories Grey would tell her, of times he came close to death. Of the fear he thought he was prepared for. The instinctual, guttural pressure of impending death, of acknowledging that the end was within arm's length.
Fear began to overtake Bozes as time slowed down. Luke's approach for another strike filled her with a sense of impending doom. It was not the strength behind his attacks that instilled terror in her, but a deep, natural instinct that whispered to her core,RUN!
There is nowhere to run, I must face him! Despite every fiber of her being recoiling a the mere thought, she refused to let fear dictate her. Ignoring the thumping of her heart, she planted herself firmly, her eyes following Luke's blade as it came crashing down.
The swords collided with a sharp *SHING*, which resonated throughout the courtyard. Sparks flew with a resounding shriek as the two blades crashed.
A shock wave coursed through Bozes' body. The impact reverberated from the point of contact, sending tremors down her arms and shaking her to the core. Her muscles strained against the tremendous force, resisting the urge to yield under the pressure. Every fiber of her being screamed in protest, yet she maintained her stance, refusing to be overcome. She could feel the tremble as Luke struck again.
Bozes strained with every ounce of her strength, pushing back against Luke's relentless assault, yet try as she might, she could not find an opening. It felt as if she was locked in a struggle against an immovable force, her muscles screaming in protest as she struggled.
I need to get away, but one wrong move and he'll cut me down. Bozes fought against the trembling in her hands.
In that intense moment, the world around them seemed to fade away, their surroundings becoming a blur. The outside world ceased to exist, leaving only the two of them. A strange energy seemed to crackle between them, an unseen embodiment of their wills.
In all her struggle and focus, she failed to realize Luke's gaze was fixed on her, his fierce expression locked on her struggling one. He lunged at her, and she shifted his sword away only for him to quickly rebound. It was a miracle she still had her head.
Panache watched from the side, expression neutral yet near the point of breaking. Her arms crossed, her grip tightening around her vambraces.
Panache noticed the shift in Luke's demeanor before he initially struck, prior to even Bozes' own realization. It was instant and subtle, but no mistaking the intent in his gaze and shift in his form. Then he struck with such intensity and precision that Panache could not help but marvel at the skill. A skill that sent a shudder down her spine as the thoughts of failure crept into her mind. Panache knew it a high possibility, but even then, she damned herself for hoping Bozes would emerge victorious.
Enough! She is still in the fight, Panache chastised herself for quickly sinking into her morbid thoughts. Bozes stood firm, despite her growing fatigue — that in itself was impressive.
Bozes could feel her strength waning and she was doing everything she could to hold Luke back. Then their blades met in a power bind. The swords scraped against each other as Bozes continuously moved in an attempt to find an opening, yet Luke met her movement without fault, resulting in an odd dance as the two continuously shifted their swords against each other — Bozes sought an opening, while Luke kept her at bay.
Bozes refrained from snarling as she grit her teeth. They still partook in the deadly dance, moving about the ground as their blades remained locked would push forward, and he would shift his sword to meet hers.
Luke backed away suddenly, and Bozes saw her chance and lunged at him. In one seamless motion, Luke shifted Bozes' blade away before closing the distance between them. With unmatched speed, too fast for Bozes to swipe at him, Luke seized Bozes' wrists.
Not expecting something so bold, Bozes barely had time to struggle before Luke brought down the pommel of his sword. The strike to her unprotected wrists caused Bozes to bite back a yelp, and had her tense up. Her grip on her sword tightened despite the pain that now coursed through her forearm. As Bozes fought to keep her sword held, Luke slammed into her, shoulder first. Through sheer will she kept herself from falling, but the sudden jostle greatly compromised her footing, and forced her to finally release her sword. She grasped at it desperately as it slipped from her fingers, but Luke roughly took her wrists again, and gave her one final shove.
Bozes shifted her feet to try and stabilize herself, but it was not enough. She wound up — to her own shame and embarrassment — tripping over herself in an attempt to stay on her feet. Bozes felt her feet leave the ground, and she instinctively pulled her hands away from Luke's grasp in an attempt to lesson the impact. She landed on her bottom with a thud, and quickly pushed herself up in an attempt to remedy her vulnerability.
Bozes froze upon noticing the slanted angle of her forehead reflected on a sleek blade. Its seemingly endless, fiercely sharp point was but a hair away from her eyes. Had she pushed herself with just a bit more force, she would have impaled herself.
Luke stood over her, his expression unreadable. A simple shift of his arm and torso and the blade would easily slip through her eye and skull. She would be dead in an instant. The question was…
Why am I still alive?
XVIII - | In Thy Name | - XVIII
Panache's eyes were fixed on the scene. The moment she recognized that Bozes was going lose, Panache's protective instincts took over, and her hands went to her scabbard. Her right hand was gripping her sword's hilt so tight, it shook from the tension, yet she did not draw her sword.
Panache found herself analyzing what her chances were — how fast she could reach Luke and how fast she could behead him. The chances were not high, and it was mostly due to two things — Luke's proximity to Bozes, and the Reaper. Panache glanced over to the Reaper from the side of her eye, and she quickly looked away the moment their eyes met.
The Reaper was staring at Panache with a smile — a dare, no doubt. Despite the sweat forming on the back of her neck and the chills that ran down her spine as she realized the Reaper's gaze was fixed on her, Panache continued her pointless endeavor of trying to find a way out of this.
Ignoring the obvious dangers, ignoring the dishonor, ignoring her own morals — she kept trying to find a way to save her best friend. Panache was not being irrational, in fact she was quite rational as to what was about to happen, yet in a childish, foolish notion, she was wasting the time and energy just to suppress the rational side of her mind. Additionally, this suppression and subsequent analysis — as pointless as it was — was a means to suppress her crippling helplessness. A pathetic means at doing something — anything rather than simply standing there, yet that was exactly what she did.
Panache could do nothing lest she preferred to stain both her and Bozes' honor. She could do nothing lest she wanted Piña to loose two dear friends as opposed to one. Panache knew she would never reach Luke, and even if — through some miracle — she did make it, it would leave her and Bozes' names stained. Even worse, it would reflect horribly on Piña to have two of her most loyal knights break a most sacred oath.
Panache's gaze shifted to the audience — the witnesses of her friend's impending execution — or rather impending honorable death, as execution would denote an unwilling death. The Count's court stood solemn at the scene, but they gave Bozes the respect of not looking away. It was sure to be a ghastly scene, yet they looked on with grim acceptance.
Panache's eyes then glanced over to Luke's party, and they wore mostly neutral expressions, but there was something more in their eyes. Panache struggled to discern just what it was, but they seemed...expectant, as if they were anticipating something.
Bozes merely looked up at Luke, frozen, and unsure of how to feel. She had lost, clearly, and she was going to die. She felt a sudden surge of fear and panic as the weight of her mortality began crushing her, leaving only a buzzing in her ears and pounding in her chest. As the adrenaline from the duel died down in the face of defeat, she spent the fleeting seconds of her life in thought.
Her mind raced with memories, dreams, promises, fights, and everything in between. Flashes of her loved ones: her father, mother, siblings, her dearest friends — her dearest princess. Regret quickly emerged. Regret of all the things she had yet to accomplish, all she had yet to do!
All the words left unsaid — all the thoughts left unrealized! There was a sadness of all that she failed to say and do, but among that regret and fear, she found no regret when it came to this duel. Loss was always in the realm of possibility, so she was not necessarily angry at that particular thing. She was angry that she lost, but that was more pride talking than fear.
As this impossibly long moment passed, Bozes grew calmer, and an overwhelming sense of acceptance flooded her. The terms of the duel were clear, and she gave it her all. Fought with all her heart and spirit, never giving in. All those years of training culminated in this duel, and although she lost, she found a sense of pride that it took someone as skilled as Luke to best her. This was her final test, to prove to herself that she was worthy of being a knight, and she succeeded. She failed, but succeeded all the same.
Bozes is grateful to have such a large audience for her death. They are sure to relay to Princess Piña that she fought bravely and honorably. She adhered to this duel in Emroy's name and expressed her loyalty with her swordsmanship. Let the land know that Bozes Co Palesti did not die without a fight, and she most definitely did not die a coward.
Bozes chose to face her fate with dignity, meeting Luke's gaze, and accepting her fate with grace. She will face death head on.
"Sir Bozes…"
Both Bozes and Panache momentarily paused at that. No one outside the Rose Knights ever called Bozes by her title. Due to all female knights being unrecognized by the Empire, they were not acknowledged as having the title that came from knighthood, despite Piña officially knighting them, ceremony and all.
"Sir Bozes, although I am not all that versed in your world's customs, I can say you showed great honor, at least in my eyes."
Bozes searched Luke eyes for mockery or deception, but like many times before, she found none. In these last moments, she allowed herself to believe him fully, giving a simple nod in appreciation.
"As did you, Sir Luke. Your victory is well earned."
"Then you agree I won," Luke said.
Bozes was confused by the question, and Luke's unreadable expression did not give him any insight as to what he meant. She did not understand why he pressed the matter.
Is he attempting to gloat? Bozes initially thought, but dismissed the idea. If Luke was attempting to deceive them, it would not do his deception well to gloat as he kills. No, something else was at play.
"I am unarmed and soon to be impaled. Anyone with eyes can see you are the victor." It slightly hurt Bozes to actually admit it aloud, but personal pride meant nothing to her at the moment. She was soon to die anyway.
Luke nodded. "Then the duel is over." He then lowered his sword, finally allowing Bozes to shift from her position. Momentarily stunned, Bozes did not react until Luke moved away.
"W-wait, what are you doing?" Bozes pushed herself up, taking a more kneeling position.
"You were disarmed, at my mercy. I could have killed you then and there," Luke said.
"Yet I live, which means the duel is not over. You swore to fight —"
"I swore to fight in the name of Emroy's Writs, and that is exactly what I did,"
"You did no such thing!" Bozes finally pushed herself up. She stood on her feet for a moment before growing dizzy — be it from her fall, exhaustion, or any other matter was uncertain. In the next instant she felt arms supporting her, and quickly realized it was Panache.
"Bozes!" The fear in Panache's voice was disconcerting since Bozes had never heard Panache speak with such a voice.
Bozes allowed herself to relax into Panache's arms. "I am fine. Just —"
"Bozes, please. There is no need to continue," Luke pleaded.
Panache grew angry. "How can you say such a thing! You would break your word so easily!"
"You swore," Bozes began, her eyes regaining focus, "You swore to fight to the death. To fight in Emroy's name. Ending this now is to forfeit your own life. You broke your oath!"
"I said I would follow Emroy's Writs, never that I would fight to the death," Luke said.
"Emroy's Writs state that all duels in his name are to the death, so until either of us is dead, this duel continues!" Bozes insisted, her voice carrying a blend of exhaustion and defiance. Her stance was resolute, but those around her could see the fatigue in her eyes and the strain in her movements. It was clear that if the duel were to continue, she would be at a significant disadvantage.
Luke's response, however, was unexpected."'Most interpretations suggest as much' is that not what you said, Rory?" Luke looked over to the smiling reaper.
Rory cheeky grin turned into a mock frown as she brought her finger to her cheek, feigning contemplation. "Oh? Did I? Hmm...now that I think over it, such words may have escaped my lips, yes."
Confusion rippled through the assembled onlookers. Bozes and Panache exchanged puzzled looks before turning their gazes back to Rory, slowly piecing together the memory of her earlier words. It was as if a realization dawned upon them simultaneously, and Bozes' frustration shifted into a befuddled anger.
"What is there to interpret?! Everyone here knows what the Writs state, and it has remained as such for centuries! What does someone of a different world know of our traditions! Surely you cannot allow this, Reaper!" Bozes shouted.
"Ahem…" Rory cleared her throat. " 'In the sanctified ritual of the duel, two souls clash and their blades sing in my name. Through each thrust and parry, I am unseen, as their guiding hand. Until only one remains, with their victory a testament to my divine will.' The Writ of Fury 5:1."
Bozes froze at that, her mind flashing with the briefest memories of her tutors' lectures. While she studied the Writs in her youth as part of her many studies, years have passed since she read them. Even then she remembers parts of her teachings, among them being the writ which covered dueling, and how it was — without a doubt — to the death. At least, that is how she was taught.
"Until only one remains, does not necessarily mean until one remains alive. Could be until one remains conscious, standing, willing," Luke added.
"I remain awake and willing!" Bozes argued.
"Yet you technically conceded by acknowledging my victory." Luke's calm voice cut through the tension.
Panache's heart skipped a beat as Luke's words resonated. She glanced at Bozes, who was caught in a struggle between her ingrained beliefs and the seeds of doubt that Luke had sown. Luke's logic was sound, albeit a bit stretched, and it was clear that Bozes recognized this.
As Bozes grappled with her conflicting emotions, a whirlwind of thoughts swirled within her. Pride warred with logic as she considered the possibility of losing the duel. Guilt gnawed at her conscience, reminding her that she had defied Princess Pina's orders not to antagonize Luke, yet understanding that this was her own doing. And then there was the stark realization that her options were growing slim. She had stepped into this challenge with conviction, but now she found herself at a crossroads she had not anticipated.
"As the arbitrator, I shouldprobably also inform you, that should you wish to continue, the duel would be over instantly, considering your ally interfered by helping you stand," Rory pointed out as motioned between Bozes and Panache.
Bozes and Panache then glanced at each other, realization dawning on them. With that her options were two. Acknowledge her loss or forever damn her and Piña's name to the annals of history, giving more fuel to the masses to dislike not only the Rose Order of Knights, but Princess Piña as well. After all this, the choice ended up being quite an easy one — it almost made Bozes laugh.
Panache opened her mouth, seeking words to explain herself."Bozes I—"
Bozes silently shook her head, stopping Panache from continuing, "Always you stood by me, and always did I stand stronger with your support. You are a pillar for me, but now I must face the consequences, alone."
Panache sought words, but then drew her head closer, whispering. "Say the word — say the word and I shall get us out of here. Honor be damned."
Bozes stifled a chuckle. Not because of the absurdity (and absurd it was, stupidly so), but because it was Panache who suggested it. The ever stoic, strict Panache, suggesting they break every code they swore. Truly, these were the most bizarre of days.
As the weight of the situation hung in the air, Bozes's lips curved into a faint smile. Amid the challenges, the unfamiliarity, and the clash of ideals, there was a steadfast bond that transcended it all. Bozes met Panache's gaze with a mixture of gratitude before pushing herself to stand alone.
Bozes was exhausted, but she would be dignified in her loss and stand on her own two feet. She swept her hair back, trying her best to set the ringlets back into their place before taking a step toward Luke.
As she stood before him, she thought back to breakfast, when the terms were set, and realized that Luke never intended to kill her. She remembered his term to do "as he asks", should he win. Since the beginning, he plotted to win this through different means, and he succeeded. Now she was at his mercy, in a difference sense.
With an air of acceptance, Bozes fixed her gaze on Luke and spoke stoically.
"I concede."
Luke gave a nod and soft smile. "Thank you, Sir Bozes. You fought valiantly."
Rory's voice was not booming, yet a carried an unexpected strength. "By the terms of the duel set forth with the invoking of Emroy Writs, I declare this duel concluded. The victor, Luke Skywalker, and as per the terms, he may now ask of Bozes Co Palesti whatever he wills."
Bozes waited expectantly, as did the entire crowd. She and Luke merely stared each other down, neither speaking for a moment.
Luke gave Bozes a simple nod and said. "Come with me."
Bozes did so willingly.
The morning after Luke woke up.
Taungsday, Telona 32, 10 ABY || Emdies, 11 of Nonumensis, 687 IC.
11:00 standard hours || Quinta Diei Hora (Fifth Hour of the Day).
Italica.
Bozes was not exactly sure what to expect. She had not mused over the possibilities until Luke led her outside of the Formal Manor compound. He did not waste a moment, casually passing by his allies and giving them a silent nod. Whatever he conveyed through that nod seemed to reach them, for they questioned nothing and let him be on his way.
As she stepped away, Bozes looked back at Panache — the stoic expression once again donning her features, but Bozes noticed the worry lingering in her friend's eyes. Bozes gave a simple nod, which Panache returned. It did little to appease the worried woman, but it was a little reassuring nonetheless.
Bozes was relieved Luke did not lead her straight to his bedchambers, as a part of her feared he would. Never had he inclined such a thing, but Bozes could not keep all intrusive thoughts at bay. Bozes was not blind to her own beauty — not that she could be, given how many would-be suitors have commented on it throughout her life. She was aware that her appearance tempted men — it was one of her sources of pride, but it unfortunately drew the attention of the most unsavory characters.
Luckily, that did not seem to be the case at this moment. If anything, Luke had not looked back at her since they left the manor. Instead, he seemed more interested in the city, taking in the sights as he wandered aimlessly. At times the crowds were manageable, but they soon were swarmed and Bozes found herself apologizing as she tapped a shoulder, or bumped into a passerby, whether it be courier or child. In contrast, Luke seemed unperturbed by the crowds as he casually and seamlessly waded through the bustling streets.
Bozes' trepidation subsided, if only momentarily, as they shifted through the public, but such trepidation returned when they finally reached a destination. Luke led her up one of Italica's many lone-standing watchtowers, which were manned by two Italican guards. They seemed to recognize Luke and Bozes as one of the count's honored guests, and did not do much to argue against them going up the tower — just given them a word of warning to watch their step as they went up.
The tower was old but sturdy — its moss-covered stone walls weathered and aged, but clearly maintained. There was a scent of musty wood as they climbed up the spiraling staircase, growing closer and closer to the top. In this narrow and secluded space, Bozes thoughts swirled with renewed uncertainty and anxiety. She was mostly certain that he would not request anything scandalous of her, but that did not rule out the plethora of other requests.
As they ascended the tower, the creaking of the incredibly narrow steps echoed beneath their feet, creating a building symphony that worked to escalate Bozes' suffocating anxiety. With each creak, her apprehension deepened, and Bozes felt as if the tower was growing taller and taller with each step she took. Either that, or Luke was purposefully moving at an agonizingly slow pace just to torment her (something Bozes highly doubted, but did not entirely rule out).
As Bozes and Luke reached the top floor, they stepped through a small, weathered doorway that seemed to have been carved into the stone ages ago. The interior of this upper chamber was a stark contrast to the dimly lit, narrow staircase they had just ascended. It was a spacious area, with an open, rectangular layout.
At the center of the room, dangled a thick rope that extended upward into the belfry, which stood a story higher. The rope, worn and aged like the tower itself, was attached to a large and equally worn, bronze bell.
The most striking features were the presence of arched dual windows on each of the four sides of the tower. The windows provided an impressive panoramic view of the city. The noon sun spilled through them, casting warm, golden hues across the chamber. From this point, Bozes could partially see the cityscape, with its intricate network of buildings. The rooftops stretched out into the distance, framed by the fields and hills that surrounded the city.
The windows, however, lacked any railings or barriers. One wrong step, and it would be a long fall to the ground below. Luke, unperturbed by the danger, casually made his way to one of the windows, and leaned against the arched frame. He was standing at the edge, his boots slightly crossing the line of safety. One simple push and he would easily fall to his death.
Bozes reminded herself that killing the man now would do nothing but worsen her troubles. Pushing down her intrusive thoughts, Bozes merely stood some steps behind Luke, awaiting for the Jedi to commence with whatever he sought in this tower. The silence settled, and the noises of the bustling streets reached even this high.
Bozes shifted uncomfortably as the silence dragged on, the only noise being the unified cacophony of voices below, and the flapping of nesting birds in the belfry. The occasional breeze pushing through the windows disturbed the rope and cooled the sweat building up on her brow.
As brave as Bozes forced herself to be, she could not deny her fear. Never had she been at the mercy of anyone, let alone an enemy. Though she also wondered if there was any reason to be fearful. If Luke was truly the man he presented himself to be, then she would be fine, but she attributes the fear to her innate distrust.
As Bozes drowned in her own musings, Luke finally spoke.
"You don't have to be afraid of me, Bozes."
Bozes froze at his words. For a moment she feared that Luke could read her mind with some strange magic, but forced such fears away lest they consume her.
"Why have you brought us here?" Bozes spoke, her voice a bit weak, but showing no signs of her internal fear.
Luke continued leaning against the window's frame. Taking in the view below.
"I never get tired of this," Luke said.
Bozes wondered what he spoke of before Luke motioned for her to join him at the window. She remained still, suspicious of his motives. He gave a small smile.
"If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done so during the duel," Luke said.
Bozes cannot fault that logic, and slowly made her way to the window. It was barely wide enough for two people to stand. Now that she was at the window, she got a better view of the city below. She could see the streets and alleys, and most importantly she could see the people.
"We are not all that different, Bozes. You fight for what you believe in and to protect your people. Be it Princess Piña, your allies, or them, your countrymen. I do the same."
"But they are not— "
"—My countrymen? As a Jedi Knight, I swear to defend all people from injustice, including those your Empire does not recognize as people. They all deserve the same peace that these people have, don't they?"
"They had their chance, over the centuries, yet one by one they fell to the Empire's might. The strongest rule, that is the law of the world," Bozes recited, her voice laced with centuries of tradition and belief.
"You believe this." It was a question posed as a statement.
Bozes went to answer, but hesitated for a second. "It's merely the truth of how the world runs, I'd be fool to believe otherwise."
"Then I guess I'm a fool because I refuse to believe such a thing. I cannot fault you for your beliefs, it is the only thing you have ever known, but I do not intend to leave anytime soon, nor will I give up on my goals. The slaves will be freed, that I a promise," Luke proclaimed with a steadfast resolve.
As Bozes gazed at Luke's face in such close quarters, she couldn't help but notice the earnest determination etched upon it. His eyes held an unwavering resolve, yet they were also filled with a sense of compassion that seemed at odds with her perception of him. He was an invader, a man who had a hand in the death of 400 Imperial soldiers, who killed dozens of bandits and stood against the Reaper, yet, at this moment, he reflected none of that.
All she saw was a man with an unyielding determination to do good. She was furious that a part of her began to believe his insanity.
Bozes shook her head. "Then we will remain at odds, because any act toward this goal will be an act against the Empire, which in turn will be an act against Princess Piña." Bozes spoke with a wavering words were not entirely true as Princess Piña has shared her conflicting thoughts these last few days. Piña faced an inner turmoil: her imperial teachings levied against her growing realization that perhaps said teachings were not as absolute as the Empire proclaimed.
"Then help me avoid that."
Exasperated, both with the entire situation and herself, Bozes could not longer keep in her bubbling turmoil. "What would you have me do? Abandon everything I have known, every principle I believe — Is that what you will of me? Will you make me betray my country? Haveme aid you in bringing about its dissolution!"
Bozes understood now why she was so angry with Luke. Despite a large portion being his role in endangering Princess Piña, she realized that another part was his reason. Bozes was a staunch believer in the Empire, in the peace and stability it harbors, but now, such belief was wavering, especially with Piña's own doubts growing each passing day.
"All I ask is that you keep an open mind. I sense your conflict, and do not fault you for it, but would it not be best for us to work toward a mutual goal? A goal that, if anything, aims to mitigate any further conflict between our peoples?"
Bozes felt this was coming. Out of all the things he could order her to do, this was relatively tame. "Is that your order?"
"My order?" Luke said, momentarily confused before he remembered the duel. "Oh no it's more of a plea, if anything. You've already fulfilled your obligation to me, so do not feel like I am forcing you to do anything."
"What? I have?" Bozes said.
"I willed that you'd come with me back at the manor, and you did so without issue. As far as I am concerned, you have fulfilled the terms."
Bozes went to argue, but realized there was nothing to argue against. Her mind went back to the terms of the duel. "I could have left the entire time?" Bozes said, with a bit of an accusative tone.
Luke gave a simple nod, "I was never forcing you to stay, once we arrived here, you fulfilled the duel's terms, the rest you did of your own accord."
Bozes stood there, a mixture of disbelief and revelation swirling inside her. Luke's words echoed in her mind, causing her to rethink the entire situation.
"You tricked me," Bozes said, her voice tinged with a mixture of surprise and realization.
"I will admit to omitting the fact on purpose as I wanted to talk to you, but I had no malicious intentions. That said, you now know that I will not order you to help us, so the choice is completely yours."
Bozes took a moment, collecting her thoughts. She knew what she wanted to say, what she believed, but are those the words Luke is looking for? Was he looking for anything specific? Would she gain anything by answering correctly? Was there a correct answer?
"I ask a lot, I realize. Take time to think on it, perhaps seek Princess Piña's input — this is as much an offer to her as it is to you," Luke reiterated, his voice calm and patient. He stepped away from Bozes, aiming for the exit.
As Luke exited the tower, Bozes remained alone, her gaze shifting across the cityscape below. Her thoughts were a mess, but as minutes passed, she soon realized she would have to speak to Piña about this.
Bozes brought her hand to her temples. "She's going to flay me alive," She murmured with a tired breath, knowing she has no one to blame but herself.
After a second of mentally preparing herself for the lecture she was to receive, Bozes took one last look at the city below, noting the people, before spinning on her heel and making for the exit. The future was uncertain, but whatever their choice, It would surely carve a new trajectory for the Empire and its people.
Bozes only hoped this trajectory would not lead to ruin.
- To Be Continued -
We often look back at that duel, Bozes and I. A strange beginning to a friendship that lasts to this day. Piña still chastises Bozes whenever we bring it up, but its more in humor than actual condemnation. Either way, this was a turning point for not only Bozes, but Piña as well. The true beginning of the shift away from the Empire's overpowering ideals. It was also a triumphant day for Bozes: the day she proved to the world that she was just as skilled and worthy as any other knight. It is a point of pride for me that I helped her realize as much.
A/N: Two years later, these chapters are finally done. Admittingly, the previous chapter was completed a year and a half ago, I just hadn't released it because I felt it went in tandem with this one. This chapter went through so many full rewrites that I got burnt out for a few months. Every single scene in this chapter went through so many iterations, it was maddening. No matter what I wrote, I just did not like it, so I would completely delete it and start again. Mix that in with adult life, and that is why it took so long, so sorry for that.
