Chapter 43: A Duel

"Isn't it a beautiful day, Rajah?" The princess's voice was warm and welcoming.

I opened my eyes and looked up at her.

Jasmine was gazing wistfully out at the garden. We were lounging about in our favorite spot, the peacock fountain, and enjoying an uncommonly pleasant afternoon.

"Rajah?" she asked again.

I nodded at her, though my opinion was superfluous. Anyone could recognize that it was a lovely day. The colors out here were brilliant. Every flower seemed to be in bloom, filling the air with the scent of spring. And best of all was the feeling of the sun shining down and warming my fur.

"Rajah." Jasmine's voice was more urgent now.

I raised my eyebrows at her.

Yes? I was listening. What is it?

"Rajah," she said, "Come on. You need to wake up. Please."

But I was awake. I was here with her. Everything was…

I spluttered and my eyes flew open as water ran down my face.

What the-

I tried to get my bearings. I was not outside in the sun for one. It was dark. I was human and I was still in my bed which meant I must have been dreaming.

"I am very sorry, Rājakumāra," a frazzled voice was saying from somewhere above me. "You said you wished to be woken up precisely at half-past four."

I turned to find Vinit's unsteady gaze and asked, "Did it not occur to you to just shake me awake?" It was too early for me to remove the acid from my tone or the accusatory look in my eyes as I sat up and wiped the cold water off my face.

"I tried," he said pitifully, "I most sincerely made the attempt, Rājakumāra, but you refused to wake, so I…" Vinit continued to spout excuses.

I tuned him out. I couldn't believe timid Vinit had thrown water in my face. I had not been woken up in this horrid fashion since Kishan and I were little. Though considering what day it was, I supposed it was fitting.

After I deemed an appropriate time to act truly displeased had passed, I said, "I understand, Vinit. You were merely following instructions. Just make the bed suitable by tonight and we will speak no more of it."

Vinit's eyes went wide and he nodded fervently. "Of course, Rājakumāra."

Rajah

I could almost hear Jasmine's voice. I got out of bed. It was time to put aside my silly dream.

"I have a dry towel for you, Rājakumāra." Vinit offered it to me.

I took the towel and wiped the moisture out of my hair and face. After drying off, I felt a bit better and much more charitable. "Alright," I said to Vinit, "Please bring out my dueling clothes."

It was time to go face Fahir.

Less than an hour later, I was exiting the armory with my favorite sword, दुर्गा का बदला. Not for the first time, I found myself thankful that दुर्गा का बदला had been kept in the armory after all these years. Most of the Agrabah guard favored cutlasses, but I much prefer my own talwar with its longer more elegant blade. The moment I had held the golden hilt of दुर्गा का बदला again, I felt like I had returned home. Many a day had been spent training with Kadam with only this and a small shield to aid me.

This morning was abundant with such memories. Duels were a staple in Mujulaai society. My martial arts training had begun when I was four. First with Kalaripayattu and a bit of kendo, then when I was seven, I began to move away from practice swords and the performing arts to self-defense, close-quarters combat, battle tactics, and duels with ever-growing stakes.

Over the years, I had fought in so many duels that I could not begin to estimate the exact number. All I knew was that the number of victories I had achieved was almost as high. As far as official duels went, I had only ever lost once, but…I should not be thinking of that.

I made myself focus on what I liked best about these events instead. I filled my head with preferred strategies, mind games, tactics, and of course, the delicious fanfare that awaited me after I was deemed victorious. That was what mattered. That feeling of superiority and self-satisfaction that came from knowing I had outclassed my opponent is what I thought of as I began my usual morning routine.

Training outside before dawn was how I started my days now. It was a good way to exercise my body into submission before I had to attend my tedious secret deportment lessons.

By now, my warm-up should be second nature, but this morning felt a bit like the first day of my renewed training. Despite me staying up late with the princess the night before, I had been wide awake that morning, filled with nervous energy. It had been a serious trial to master myself enough to get a full assessment of how much I had regressed. I had just been so anxious.

Today, of course, was different. My nerves were due to anticipation, not dread. I was simply excited to win this duel and earn the respect I deserved. Too many courtiers and impertinent guards believed I was soft and unworthy of their esteem. They assumed that because of my courtly manners and progressive policies, I knew nothing of war and battle. They assumed wrong. Today I would prove it to everyone.

Already people were beginning to fill in the hallways surrounding the training grounds. I could hear their hushed voices. I knew still more would be watching from their balconies. Rumors said that even the sultan planned to make an appearance this morning. I told myself not to look at the growing crowd. There would be ample time to bask in their adoration after I had won.

Eventually, after repeating the same focusing exercises for the fourth time, I manage some semblance of calm. Only to have it immediately tested by Fahir.

"Oye," his nasally voice called out to me. "Aren't you done yet?"

I finished my set, careful not to miss a single action despite this new distraction. Then I turned to face my opponent. By Agrabah standards, Fahir was a tall man, though I was taller by at least 10 centimeters. He might also be considered handsome with a medium build, prominent chin, and that overly-oiled long hair of his. To me, he looked more like a rat in a wig.

I smiled at him. "Fahir, you're early."

Fahir narrowed his eyes at me. He was trying to decide whether I had just insulted him or not.

I waited patiently for a response with an expression of polite interest as if I didn't just imply that he was often late to his shifts. After all, why would I, a foreign prince, be aware of such things?

Not getting anything from my body language, the man finally settled on, "Today is an important day."

"I am honored you think so," I said continuing the friendly façade. "Shall we?" I gestured at the center of the training grounds.

A chorus of cheers rang out from the crowd.

This time Fahir responded to my insult. His nostrils flared and he said, "I don't need your permission." Then he walked ahead of me.

I followed, hiding a smirk. Did he realize that the show had already started?

I doubted it.

The two of us took our places. I settled into a traditional Mujulaai fighting stance, lowering my center of gravity and flexing my limbs so that they would be ready for anything.

Meanwhile, Fahir assumed a lackadaisical pose that made him look like he was waiting in a long line.

Between us, facing the palace, was the captain of the guards, Razoul. I was surprised to see him participating in this, but judging by his scowl, he was not happy to be here. Maybe the sultan had firmly suggested that Razoul officiate the duel. I would not put it past His Highness.

"Alright," Razoul said, cutting through my thoughts. "I want a fair fight to first blood. No deaths, you hear? There are ladies in the audience."

Ladies? I briefly wondered if the princess was here. I could imagine her watching me from one of the palace balconies, but I resisted the urge to actually look for her.

There was no time for it. I took a deep breath, instead.

Focus Dhiren.

Fo-

"Get it over with Captain," Fahir snapped.

Surprisingly, Razoul did just that. The captain swung his arm down and barked, "Begin."

It was a good thing I was already in a fighting stance because Fahir shot forward with his blade.

Two weeks ago, I would not have been able to react quickly enough to this first test. Luckily that was two weeks ago. I raised my talwar to block the blow. The clang of metal against metal rang out through the courtyard.

For a moment, I was transported back to another place and another duel, and then thanks to Fahir, I was pulled back to the present.

"I'm going to show these people what you really are," he sneered.

I said nothing. I didn't believe in talking during a fight. Silence spoke its own language. My response to Fahir was to relax my grip on दुर्गा का बदला and tap his blade lightly.

A taunt.

Then I leapt back into a defensive position.

Let him come.

"Coward," he snapped before he descended upon me once again, and with that our duel truly began.

Fahir was said to be an accomplished swordsman. This was a misnomer. My own research into Fahir showed the truth. He was my least favorite type of warrior, one who relied on physical prowess and natural talent instead of practice, diligence, and skill. As such his speed, experience, and superior strength did not stop him from swinging his cutlass around like it was a club.

It was not a surprise to me that as Fahir and I clashed swords, I counted no less than 23 openings. I was still too slow to take advantage of most of them, but that left 9 which I could have exploited. I only actively countered a handful of Fahir's attacks because it would seem incompetent if I didn't at least try to retaliate to his more obvious mistakes. Luckily, Fahir was able to react accordingly.

The guardsman was probably under the misapprehension that this was a duel of honor and it was, in the barest sense. Fahir represented the Agrabah guard and all those who scorned hard work. The man was filled with the same hubris and proactive ignorance that had inflicted too many of the Agrabah guardsmen. However, more than any of that, this was a display of Mujulaain and myself as its prince. In just a few more minutes, this little demonstration would be-

Fahir slashed his cutlass wildly, cutting through my vest, as I twisted away.

"How do you like that!" he cried. Fahir had been talking this entire time. I had mostly been ignoring his chatter. Now though he said something of import. With a predatory grin, he announced, "I think it's time I got serious."

The man began a flurry of attacks and I got to see just how well my training had prepared me for today. There was no getting around it. Fahir was fast.

I retreated back to give myself room to react to the onslaught.

"What's wrong, Prince Dhiren?" Fahir jeered at me, "Don't tell me you're-"

Scared, Ri-Ren?

I missed a beat and was forced to parry instead of properly counter-attacking as I had meant to. I recovered. Fahir didn't even notice my slip.

I was not scared. Not of him or anyone else. As such, I shoved the unwelcomed memory back down and made a decision.

This fight had gone on long enough. It was time to end this.

Fahir went for a forward thrust, but I was more than ready for it. Instead of dodging to the side, I took a large step forward, lowered myself down, sliced into Fahir's right shin, and rose up behind him all in one fluid movement.

With Fahir's back to me, I held up दुर्गा का बदला so that all could see the blood that graced its shining blade.

There.

All had basically gone as planned.

I had won.

A/N: Hey all,

I know it has been literal months. It is not from lack of writing. This has been a hard arc for me. Over 50 drafts have been sacrificed to the writing gods and finally, FINALLY, I am back where I belong. I hope you enjoyed the show. Some trivial for you, Dhiren's sword's name translates to Durga's Revenge and Fahir is actually mentioned all the way back in chapter 1 which was published nearly 2 years ago...Wow...how time passes. Speaking of which, it's almost Dhiren's birthday again. Expect a celebration.

Until we meet again!