"You idiot!" A roar rang out from inside the Jukhmahan. The tent door was thrown open, and Dobro came flying out, landing right before Viyal's feet. A male Mosyv with streaks of white hair in his mane emerged after him, visibly steaming from anger. He was most likely Chief Bairo of the Khadarta.

Viyal and her companions had returned to the Jukhmahan to report the earlier attack on them. It would appear that somebody had informed Chief Bairo before them, perhaps even Dobro himself. His idiotic son now struggled to stand up, holding his face and spitting out bloody teeth.

His father was a Mosyv with an imposing brown mane and a lean physique. Of course, both were not as impressive as Amiro's, but few were. Still, he was a Mosyv, one of the strongest species of the steppe. And he had evidently not held back against his own son.

"Tabro, you were with him! Why did you not stop your idiot brother?" Chief Bairo grabbed Tabro by the collar and raised him to his eye level.

"I did, but Brother would not listen," Tabro answered calmly. Even when faced with his father's wrath did he not lose his cool. Viyal could appreciate a level-headed child like him.

"What happened, Chief Bairo?" Amiro came out of the tent after him.

"She is the one!" Dobro noticed Viyal and her entourage and pointed at them in accusation. "She insulted our tribe!"

Amiro glanced at Rowen questioningly, and the old knight nodded silently. With this, he immediately understood that he was not just making things up.

"That does not give you the right or a reason to send assassins after her!" Chief Bairo bellowed, raising a fist to punch Dobro again. But Amiro grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"This involves my daughter. Let me hear what happened." He looked at Viyal with a frown. "From both sides."

Thus, they stood before the Jukmahan's entrance and listened to Dobro's exaggerated retelling of Viyal's insulting behavior toward him and his tribe's name. Then, Viyal repeated it without any of the embellishments he added. The adults listened silently, and Chief Bairo's anger toward his son subsided visibly.

Amiro stepped up to his daughter and hit her across the face. It was hard enough to knock her down, but he clearly held back. "You will apologize to the Khadarta."

Yunil's eyes widened in shock, and she twitched, but one quick glare from Amiro stopped her. His expression showed that this was not her place to do or say anything. She watched in anguish as Viyal held her cheek and stood up slowly, but when she saw her expression, her jaw dropped. Not only did she not cry, but her gaze was firm.

"I apologize for my thoughtless insult." Viyal bowed to Dobro and Chief Bairo. She understood her father's sentiment and what was at stake here. A little pain and her pride were nothing if it could tide over the six dead men from the Khadarta and keep their tribe in the coalition.

"Hey, get up and do the same." Chief Bairo knocked his son on the head before pulling him up by the collar. Dobro was too stunned to react, so his father forced his head down and continued, "The death of my men is their own fault, for listening to my foolish son and attacking somebody more skilled than them. With this, I hope there will be no bad blood between the Zakhira and the Khadarta."

"If you have decided so, then we will say no more," Amiro nodded and put a hand on Viyal's head. She felt the gentleness and warmth in his touch. He was still her father, even if he had to act like the chief in this situation.

"However, there is one thing I would like to know. Who defeated my warriors?" Chief Bairo looked at Viyal, then the three accompanying her. There was no way the young Nokkoy or the Gadat could take down six men without sustaining a single scratch. That left Rowen, the only adult among them.

"I merely surprised them with the sturdiness of my armor," responded the old knight, bowing his head in humility.

"You must be a mighty warrior indeed, to defeat some of my best without letting any harm come to the children in your care," the Khadarta chief said, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

"What say you to a show duel between him and your champion?" Amiro suddenly suggested. "It would be an opportunity to silence the rumors before they begin by showing your tribe's might."

Chief Bairo considered his words with a difficult expression. He had not thought about the fact that perhaps the other tribes would think his warriors weak. Their name was already tarnished by one of their sons sending six assassins after three children and an old man. The fact that they were killed in return without inflicting a single wound on their targets would surely soon be on everybody's lips.

The Khadarta's position in the future coalition would be in jeopardy if they were seen as a tribe of little strength. He needed to show the other tribes that not all his men were so weak to be defeated by a lone foreigner. As such, a show duel was the perfect opportunity to restore their honor. Either their champion beat Rowen and signaled their tribe's worth or the foreign warrior proved himself a peerless fighter few on the steppe could best.

"That is an excellent idea," Chief Bairo agreed with a grin that showed off his front row of sharp teeth. He turned around and called out into the Jukhmahan, "Adaro, come out here!"

From that name, it was quite clear who Chief Bairo's champion would be. A Mosyv that looked like his mirror image emerged from the Jukhmahan moments later. Like in Amiro and Gavro, this one was noticeably bulkier than his twin brother. Viyal always thought her uncle was a special case, but perhaps all Mosyvvi were like that. Once one settled into a leadership role, the other grew stronger to become their champion.

"What say you?" Chief Bairo asked his brother, gesturing at Rowen.

"I shall not underestimate him," Adaro responded, evidently having overheard the conversation from inside. The old knight turned his head slightly and looked at Amiro. The chief of the Zakhira gave him a meaningful nod.

The news of a mighty foreign warrior facing a Mosyv champion spread across Kudaldan like wildfire. The entire city seemed to gather at the fighting pit near the Jukhmahan to witness this show duel, even if they did not understand what it was about. The pit was a circle of trampled dirt surrounded by a hill. Countless people gathered on the slopes, here to see some excitement.

As expected, Rowen did not remove his hood and armor, but he wielded a wooden sword instead of Nightfall. On the other side, Adaro carried a quarterstaff and fought topless. A show duel was not a fight to the death; the winner would be judged by the chiefs based on strikes to vital areas or if one of the duelists conceded.

Viyal realized this favored Adaro since Rowen's fighting style was incompatible with these rules. He had no need to dodge attacks aimed at his vitals as they were covered by plate armor. Since he never took it off, it was likely difficult for him to adjust his reflexes and instincts.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

"Begin!" Chief Bairo bellowed from the ringside and gave the signal.

Adaro charged right in and launched a flurry of thrusts with his longer reach. Despite looking brutish like all Mosyvvi, he was not a mindless fighter. He knew that the old warrior dispatched six of his tribe's warriors handily. Even if he was confident in his species' physical strength, he did not underestimate his opponent, just as he had announced.

Rowen deflected each thrust with his sword, holding his position without getting hit once. A distinctive noise would ring if the quarterstaff knocked against his armor. However, only the sounds of wood striking each other could be heard across the pit. Even the onlookers who were not fighters could appreciate the level of skill and control this took.

After the first exchange, Adaro stepped back and assessed the situation. Any other fighter in his tribe would have been overwhelmed by this assault, but this old man's breath did not even appear to have quickened. He stood still, sword at the ready, waiting for his opponent to come at him again.

The Mosyv champion lowered his stance and charged forward. Rowen anticipated a sweep to his legs and brought his wooden sword low. But to his surprise, Adaro controlled his staff with expert movements, hitting the ground and bouncing it upward from below. The old knight dodged the tip just in time to avoid getting hit in the face. In the same motion, he slashed upward with his wooden sword, but Adaro avoided it narrowly by going even lower.

Viyal gasped at the quick exchange. If the thrust toward his face had landed, he would have lost his head in front of the entire audience. Surely, he wanted to keep that a secret from most people. It was an advantage that could swing a real battle in his favor, so it would have been wasted on this show duel.

The two fighters took their distance again and gauged each other. Adaro was clearly in another league compared to the six assassins that came after them. The Mosyvvi were in a class of their own on the steppe when it came to physical abilities and battle sense. It was the reason so many diverse tribes were led by them, even though their species did not form tribes themselves.

Adaro lowered himself even further, looking like a beast ready to pounce. Despite appearances, he was level-headed and had his mind focused on the goal of this duel. If this had been a battle to the death, he would have taken a different approach. In his experience, ripping off an enemy leader's armor pieces with his bare hands and stabbing their exposed flesh with his stinger in exchange for getting slashed by their blade was a viable strategy. However, he could not use his venom in a show duel, as that would defeat its purpose of displaying one's fighting skills in a straightforward clash.

This time, the Mosyv champion swept the quarterstaff in an arc with one hand, aiming at Rowen's ankles. He expected that he could not jump easily in his heavy armor. To his surprise, the old knight's wooden sword was stabbed into the sand and blocked the staff, causing it to bounce off.

Before Adaro could regain control over his weapon, Rowen charged forward, pulling the sword's tip along the ground. He drew it free in a shower of sand that temporarily blinded the Mosyv and brought the blade down on his shoulder.

But Adaro twisted his body out of the way out of pure instinct and avoided the attack. He brought the staff around in the same motion, switched hands, and swung it at Rowen's flank from below. The old knight barely drew back his sword in time to deflect the strike and slid backward to take his distance.

The audience erupted in cheers. Everybody understood that they bore witness to a high-level duel between two immensely skilled combatants. Even though they were using wooden weapons, neither had let themselves get hit. They treated this pit as a battlefield, where being struck could mean the difference between life and death.

Viyal was baffled that Rowen could fight like that despite being used to wearing plate armor. None of the steppe tribes' common weapons could penetrate it, so he likely never had to dodge their attacks before. It showed how skilled he was in real combat when he could turn on a dime and change his fighting style to suit the situation.

She watched the two combatants gauge each other and perform probing strikes under the audience's watchful gaze. By now, the Khadarta had already proven that they were not weak, but that Rowen was incredibly strong. All that remained was to see if he would come out on top against a Mosyv and become known as a legendary warrior.

Once again, Adaro took the initiative and launched another flurry of thrusts. His reach advantage was one thing Rowen could never hope to overcome. In two fighters of equal skill, the spear fighter won against the swordsman every time. Even if he could defend against the attacks, it was only a matter of time until a feint led to a missed deflection and a hit.

Adaro's bare upper body was steaming in the cool air. Still, his eyes were focused, and his breathing steady. It would be a while before he grew exhausted from this relentless assault that made him look like three people attacking at once. Viyal found herself wondering how her father would fare against him.

On the other side, Rowen did not show a hint of tiring. Since his eyes were covered and his beard hid his mouth, nobody could tell what kind of expression he wore. Still, his movements were as sharp as ever, deflecting every strike and weaving in attacks of his own whenever an opportunity presented itself.

Was Rowen perhaps really an undead? The old knight had implied that he returned from the dead to seek vengeance. Had his head been severed by a traitor, and he turned into this apparition due to a lingering resentment? If that were true, he would likely never tire and continue fighting until his body turned to dust.

The noise of wood hitting metal rang out, pulling Viyal from her thoughts. Yunil breathed in sharply beside her, and she knew what had happened. Adaro's quarterstaff had found its target in the blinding flurry of swings and thrusts. Emboldened by the sound, he pushed forward one step and redoubled his efforts.

Suddenly, his grip slipped, and the quarterstaff impacted among the audience behind Rowen. The Mosyv fell onto one knee and gasped for air. A red streak formed on his left shoulder, and his arm hung down limply, likely dislocated. The old knight stood over him and awaited his next move.

The audience was stunned silent by this turn of events. They heard the staff hitting the old knight's armor, a sign that his defense had finally wavered. Yet, a moment later, his opponent kneeled before him, disarmed despite being on the attack. How had that come to pass?

"It wasn't the staff hitting his armor. He hit it with his own sword," Tashi commented beside Viyal. "It was a trick to draw his opponent in so he could land his strike."

She stared at the monkey boy in surprise; he had been able to follow their blindingly fast exchange. His dynamic vision must have been incredible to catch such a detail when even Adaro did not. And Rowen was even more amazing to sneak in such a maneuver in the middle of the overwhelming assault.

"I concede," declared Adaro, lowering his head in defeat. He then set his dislocated shoulder with a noise that rang across the stands. His expression barely changed, even though it must have been quite painful. Instead, he stood up, grabbed Rowen's wrist, and raised his hand up high to announce his victory, "Here is a warrior without equal! Hail Rowen of the Zakhira!"

The crowd erupted in thunderous applause. Chief Bairo nodded with a grin of recognition. Viyal sighed in relief when Adaro was not only a gracious loser but even praised Rowen in front of the entire audience. With this, the bad air had been cleared; the Khadarta's honor was restored, and they could work together in the coalition of tribes without the shadow of enmity looming over them.

It was another excuse for the adults to drink and feast. The festive atmosphere spread, and soon, the entire city was on its feet, setting up a celebration. Rowen was a foreigner, but today, he has become a hero of the steppe, recognized by all. He was led around by Adaro, introduced to his tribesmen, and made to drink with them.

Amiro stepped aside to let his trusted warrior take center stage. A lesser chief would likely have pushed himself into the foreground to take credit for the achievements of his champion. He put an arm around Viyal and pulled her close before speaking quietly so only she could hear, "Watch closely, my child. This is what it means to gain the trust and support of the people."

Viyal looked up at her father and seared his proud expression into her memory. On the surface, one could think he meant Rowen, who won everybody's hearts through his humility and the might of his sword arm. But she knew he meant the Zakhira tribe as a whole. If not for his clever maneuvering, this situation would not have come to pass. Unlike his push for a coalition in the Jukhmahan, he even managed to divert focus from himself while reaping the benefits.

Shizuru used to imagine people of medieval times to be more barbaric, using only force to get what they wanted. Although the beings in this world were not humans, she thought the same applied to them. Growing up among them opened her eyes to their depth and complexity. She would never again underestimate people in this world, regardless of their level of education or sophistication.

She glanced at Yunil. The young Nokkoy was like a sister, and in the future, she would surely become her champion. Then, there was Tashi. Although she did not think too highly of his advances toward her, she could not ignore his potential. One day, she would surely come to rely on them like Amiro did on Gavro and Rowen.