Char was a whirlwind when it came to this sort of thing. Maybe his family had groomed their youngest scion to be some sort of event planner, or maybe the kid was just the one that pulled the short straw growing up and was forced by his older siblings to do everything for them. Whatever the reason, he was like a man possessed.
Orders streamed from him with a confidence that his usual cadence lacked. “Put that box there. You, stand over there. Have the maids bring refreshments to him, him and him,” he was unstoppable. It was the only time to date that Micheal could see the noble blood flowing through his veins. No doubts flowed through those words, no hesitation. He spoke and was obeyed, and that was all there was to it. Micheal wanted to resent that about the boy, but instead found himself almost proud of Char instead. It was nice seeing this side of him, and even as distrust and betrayal swirled in his gut, he let himself feel happy for the noble boy that had so swiftly become the object of his fear.
Quickly Micheal ended up squirreled away from the arena as Char pushed Samantha and another boy into it. This was a lost that Micheal recognized as one of the few opponents that had lined up behind Char as he made his introduction with Dawn, and Micheal noted that he seemed to be on the smaller side for a career duelist.
Typically duelists erred to the larger end of the spectrum for fairly obvious reasons - call a man a brute all you like, it got the job done. In exchange however, this man had sought out a lithe and slippery build. His eyes, too resembled those of a snake. Long and piercing, his pointed chin and tall face completed the look. Micheal might have thought him one of the ridiculous New-Sworn, were it not for the clearly obsidian eyes he carried with him.
Not quite as black as Micheal's own, they were still dark enough that even many puritans would have been satisfied, and altogether the look painted quite the intimidating picture.
“Hey, snake eyes!” Samantha shouted as she was escorted on to the arena. “Ever wonder what your own fingers taste like?” Of course, Samantha had other ideas about who was going to be the intimidating one around here.
The man in question stumbled in his step, righting himself as he got to his corner of the arena. He looked left and right, before finally pointing at himself for clarification.
“Yes you, idiot! Who else in the briny blue has snakey eyes like yours?” Shouted Samantha.
“No. I have not wondered what my fingers taste like,” the man replied. Amusingly, Micheal though he might have heard a lisp with those 's' sounds.
“Well today is the day you get to find out. I'll feed 'em to you one at a time,” said Samantha with mock glee. She was playing the mania a little hard, but the wide eyes and bloodied blouse (as all her clothes were), sold the look in a way that amateur theatre never could.
“I Like her,” Micheal heard Lagran comment to no one in particular. “She's got spunk,”
“You like everyone that smack talks, Lagran,” Char shouted to the instructor from the referees box.
The instructor, for his part, smiled back at the boy from his position on the field. Lagran's goal was to interfere with the duel if any hit looked like it would be lethal. Micheal wasn't sure if he trusted the man, knowing all too well the ease with which he might 'accidently' miss a shot here or there. It was fairly common place at the dueling hall for referees to be bribed to let some unscrupulous character win big on a bet. With that in mind, he stood closer than was wise to the edge of the arena. Maybe he would be useless to stop anything truly disastrous from happening. Maybe he would look like a fool. It didn't matter much to him. He would keep Sam safe, no matter what.
“Go to the blue, you briny whore,” the snake man shouted. Micheal winced as Samantha turned her manic grin to one of sheer crazed rage. She was still playing it up, but Micheal knew for a fact that the man in the arena didn't know that, and probably wouldn't much care if he were to find out. Having the stuffing beaten out of you felt much the same regardless of how you felt about the person doing it.
“Hey, keep up that kind of talk and I'll tell Lagran to stand back and let her do her thing. Understand?” The noble shouted. The boy's aversion to bad language did come as a surprise to Micheal, given their first meeting place, but he smoothed his features to hide it, adopting his usual paranoia instead.
The snake man - as Micheal designated him in his head, shot a venomous glare at Char, before quickly looking away as the Noble moved to study him. Even more of a coward then he looked, then, Micheal thought.
“The duel begins on the count of five, as procedure dictates. Any killing blow should be sufficiently tempered, or else Lagran will interpose himself and the perpatrator shall be removed from the estate immediately,” the noble intoned.
“Even if I'm the one using lethal force,” Samantha yelled back as she batted her eyes, still entirely too manic for a girl of her age, toward the noble.
Char, for all the love of the Gods and Demons alike, actually blushed at the look.
“Ehm... Uhh... I mean yes, Samantha. You as well! There are to be no exceptions!” he shouted with a bit too much gusto in Micheal's opinion. How Samantha couldn't see the danger implicit in leading on a noble was beyond him, but Micheal was far too smart to question that particular decision on the part of his best friend. At least in earshot of said best friend.
“Perhaps beginning the countdown is advisable, lord Char,” the too-normal man at Char's side suggested.
“Er.. Yes, that seems well-advised, good sir,”
Interesting choice of title, my dear benefactor. The title of 'good sir' as a form of address was far above what a mere guardsman should have been entitled to. Micheal would bet his left arm that whatever Dawn had done to Matilda would have had something to do with that. At the very least, it was worth looking into at a later date. For now, he needed to look at his best friend beat up a snake-man.
Sometimes this new life of his had a few perks.
“Are both parties ready and able to engage in the coming duel?”
Both nodded.
“Then on the count of five, begin.”
“1... 2... 3... 4...”
“5!”
.....
Samantha stood in place, waiting for her opponent to come to her. She'd kept him on his toes for the entirety of the time she'd seen the creepy snake-guy, and it would pay dividends now. Copying Micheal's 'I'm gonna feed you your own fingers' smile never failed to throw opponents through a loop, and this guy was more susceptible than most.
He was obviously a pro dueler, but given Samantha had never seen him in the fighting pits around the orphanage, it was more than likely he did all his stuff above the board. Unfortunately for him, all the good lost duelists didn't go above board if their own mother was up there begging for their help.
If you weren't in the fighting pits - you weren't dueling.
Snake-man came running, just like they always did when they were scared. Sam eyed him the whole way, doing her best to keep that same smile. It had taken her some time to get the crazy juuuust right without coming off as too silly, but after she got it down it started scaring the crap outta her opponents.
Snake-man came in fast with a left hook. He was definitely stronger than her, and fast to boot, but he was too slow for her. She threw herself down in a crouch faster than the thin man could deal with, sending a jab into his gut. A leg came up to kick her away and fell just as quickly as the pain from the kidney shot hit him.
He might have been stronger, but he was damn near slow next to Sam. As a lost girl, she was never going to be the strongest one in the fighting pits, and she knew that. She didn't need to be the strongest. She just had to be the fastest. All the strength in the world didn't mean a damn thing if they couldn't hit her, and the gasping lurch of Snake-guy was proof enough that they couldn't.
She flexed another grin at him, this one barely changed from her normal bloodthirsty smile. and he righted himself just enough to put some distance between them. Samantha stayed in place. She would let him pick his poison. She'd force him to come at her, over and over until he couldn't move. All the while she would just sit and smile at the poor bastard.
The whole point of this exhibition was for Char to see some dueling outside of what he was used to, and if this didn't qualify, nothing would. For Sam, getting some feedback from Lagran would be more than enough to be worth what little effort this farce of a duel would be. Samantha guessed this first match was meant to be more of a gauge than anything else.
Poor little Snake-guy just happened to draw the shortest straw.
“Scared are you, little man? Afraid of the widdle girl standing in front of you? Maybe you should man the fuck up and fight like you mean it!:” She shouted with a snarl. It was always better to keep the flighty ones on their toes.
Snake-dude moved back into her range, more cautiously this time. She slipped out of her defensive stance and held herself wide open, baiting a stumbling kick from the opposite side of the man's injured kidney.
She took the shot to the thigh, letting out a slight wheeze that turned into a laugh. She flashed her teeth with a wide smile and grabbed at the leg the man had sent out, betting he was too scared to form a proper offense.
He was strong enough that he should have been able to fight back, but the fear-stricken look in his eyes told Sam that he wouldn't. He struggled without technique, eventually shouting as she placed a few well aimed punches to his body and groin.
She let him go after a few shots, and before he got his wits about him enough to realise he could have taken her apart if her put his brawn to good use. Even without his base of support he had enough strength to fend her off, but she knew for a fact that she'd won this duel the moment the fool had sent himself running at her.
It was brains that won duels, not power. And he gave up all the brains he had the moment he feared a girl half his size.
Samantha approached the gibbering man as he held his groin and openly sobbed for his mother. She kicked him in the chin.
Lagran, watching from the sidelines, grinned. Samantha flashed him a smile in return.
.....
Char watched as Samantha mentally decimated her opponent.
It was not that they had never taught Char in the art of mental warfare, they had. It had taken up lesson after lesson, in fact. It was just entirely different to see the complete and utter dominance that Samantha had achieved with what his instructors had always called 'the seasoning that begets the meal'.
Mental warfare was nothing to be snuffed at, certainly. But neither was it meant to claim an entire fight all on its own.
No one had thought to teach Samantha that lesson.
In truth, Char had thought sending her against a pro duelist was a cruel thing to do to a girl not even at the age of adulthood - much less a lost girl. But Lagran had insisted, and if Char knew anything about the strange instructor it was that he should be trusted. That point stood. Besides, he saw what she did to that massive Lost in the fighting pits. What harm could one person do?
Samantha sent a smile to Lagran before her eyes rested on Char, who she blew a bloodied kiss. It should not have sent butterflies to his stomach. It did.
“The winner, Samantha Cald!” He shouted in his best approximation of his fathers voice. Alistair Anise had always instilled in his sons the importance of a noble's voice, and he thought that lesson finally paid off here. Perhaps with it his soon-to-be friends might even see more of him than the perpetual nerves that Samantha seemed to illicit. It wasn't his fault the girl was as sweet as she was, and it certainly wasn't his fault that his chest felt light every time she teased him. Char wasn't a masochist, was he?
Everyone surrounding the arena clapped politely, with only Micheal properly cheering his friend, unsurprisingly. The others knew to be more politically savvy when in the presence of a noble, and deferred the bulk of their attention to him as the host. In turn he favored each one with polite nods of acknowledgement. Only Micheal and Lagran seemed immune to that particular effect of his.
“May the next duelists approach the arena!” he shouted.
Accompanying that shout were a handful of gestures directing any given thing that required directing. Micheal and the other Bone-ranker, of course, but also the cleanup crew, the maids and butlers, and of course the relevant guards to their places. Lagran being Lagran, had already repositioned himself without instruction exactly where Char had planned to place him anyway.
Micheal and the larger chosen made their way with quick, springing steps, and a lumbering gait respectively.
Micheal moved with his usual swiftness, taking care to seem entirely not swift in anyway that screamed 'obvious thief'. Sporting his usual paranoia he was scanning each and every part of the courtyard he could get his eyes on as he did, concealing the act in normal movements as much as possible. It was only Char's anti-espionage training, and a helpful amount of skepticism on his part, that made the actions decipherable for what they were.
Part of Char was growing irritated at Micheal's continued impudence, but that was the part his father had made, so he stomped it down ruthlessly. Micheal was covering his ass, and Char knew that, but it was making it harder and harder to befriend the guy, even with his natural charisma.
That didn't mean he intended to stop, of course. But it complicated things. Even with the Found boy's decreasing suspicion he knew how he looked. A noble offering some Lost and Found kids a golden opportunity? He wouldn't trust him either. Only Char knew exactly why he would do such a thing, and it was no where near the earth-shattering plot they thought it would be.
He really just wanted some friends.
Maybe it was naivety, maybe not. But the trip to the title of World Priest was a lonely one, and one that he had no intentions of making alone. These two were just his best chances at making that dream a reality. If he got that level of paranoia on his side? Even better. What need did he have for guards and spy's when you have a Micheal?