By the time the train finally arrives at its destination, Seren had been expecting to get off for almost half an hour. The outskirts of the city just seem to stretch on and on, an endless sea of concrete and low-lying houses and factories before eventually the train pulls past the towering walls of the inner city.
Here, surrounding the train station, the environment is much different, much more akin to back home; quaint brick buildings, trees lining the cobblestone roads which have yet to be motorized, the smell of baked goods wafting out into the streets where various ponies trot this way and that or sit at open air cafe’s reading the days paper.
But in another way, it is still entirely foreign. There is an oddly artificial feeling to the meticulously plotted streets and walls, the way that the architecture seemed as though it was designed to block the view of the land further away. The buildings are noticeably more cramped together and more recently constructed. And of course, there are still those enticing undercurrents of other unfamiliar smells from further upwind in the air; Sure, industrial smoke doesn’t exactly smell good, but it is the smell of progress.
Taking in a deep breath, Seren relaxes while Saoirse awkwardly stands around next to her. “Alright… Where to now?” The servant asks, looking up at the aristocrat.
Seren pauses. Her father had made it clear that this mission was time sensitive and important; considering that, the only proper thing to do seemed to be to laze about and take in the sights. If he didn’t care about her then she didn’t give a damn about her mission, either. Smirking with that thought, she jerks her head towards the city. “C’mon, let's go take a look around. It's a brand new city for both of us.”
Saoirse seems to follow her thought process, since the servant smirks as well as she follows after. They still have hours to explore before nighttime, plenty of time to poke around the unfamiliar environs of the city. She attracts quite a few glances from commoners on the street, along with respectful bows; just the way she walks alone makes her breeding obvious, even without considering the regal spiral horn crowning her head.
The attention of not only those around them but the duo themself, however, is shortly attracted by a commotion from over near one of the shops lining the streets. Giving each other curious glances, Saoirse and Seren shoulder their way through the crowd just in time to hear the belligerent voice of an aristocrat shouting.
"Are you daring to refuse me?" Pushing her way to the front of the crowd, Seren is able to ascertain the source of the voices; a pair of ponies, both finely dressed, but one being a blank while the other was a unicorn.
"With all due respect, you don't have any right to it!" The blank was replying to the aristocrat. "It doesn't matter how much you offer, it isn't for sale! It has more value to me than it ever would to you." While speaking, the blank protectively cradles one hoof near his chest; Seren sights the apparent cause of the pair's dispute, a finely wrought golden bracelet with a diamond set in the middle. It was, to be fair, unusually elaborate for something owned by a commoner.
The noble bristles in response, narrowing his eyes. "Are you suggesting I have less appreciation for the arts than the likes of you?"
The merchant looks taken aback. "What? I, no, I just meant that it has sentimental value-"
Before he can continue, the noble stomps a hoof down, a predatorial grin on his face. "An insult to my acculturation, and by extension, my very household! This can only be settled by means of a duel." He blusters, levitating a pair of pistols that he apparently already had on his person.
Seren blinks in confusion. Just what in the heavens was the noble talking about? She had missed the beginning of the argument, but it definitely seems as though the noble is blowing things out of proportion.
The merchant glances around anxiously, furrowing his brow and paling. "S-surely you can't be serious." He stammers out.
The noble's grin only grows wider. "And now, you claim that I make frivolous challenges without intending to follow through? There is only one way to remedy this." Despite his words, his tone sounds far more jovial than anything.
The merchant looks around, before turning on his heel and trying to run, only to find himself held back by the aristocrats magic. "Ah-ah, you have impugned my honor. You're not about to deny me satisfaction." Forcing the merchant to turn around, the noble places a pistol at his hooves.
The merchant quakes in fear, stumbling back and falling on his haunches, looking almost nauseous. Meanwhile, the aristocrat was already seemingly making preparations. "Come on then! Pick out a second. You! Won't you serve as my opponents second?" The noble points out a seemingly random pony in the crowd, yet somehow they did not appear in the slightest surprised.
Seren turns to the nearest pony next to her, another unicorn with a coifed black mane. "What in heavens name is going on?" She asks in confusion. "This isn't the proper procedure for a duel in the slightest!"
The unicorn just looks at her with a faint smile on his lips. "Ha, you must be from out of town, huh?" He shakes his head. "Deadeye does this all the time. I think he thinks his skills will get rusty if he doesn't duel somepony at least once a week. Just watch."
Unsurely, Seren does just that. In plain view, the aristocrat was handing a small purse of gold coins to each of the seconds. The merchant was standing there with shaking knees, pallid and with wide eyes. "L-look, do you want the bracelet? You can have it! It's all yours, I won't even charge you!" The merchant begs.
The aristocrat just grins callously. "Its too late for that. We'll draw at ten paces."
The merchant lowers his head, quaking in fear, but reluctantly does as he is instructed, the two duelists taking up position back to back.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine... A gunshot breaks the silence, the aristocrat having whirled around and drawn his pistol. Seren gasps in outrage; that had only been nine paces. Had this dastard no honor at all..?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
The bullet strikes the merchant on the rear leg, and he falls down to the ground with a cry. Desperately, he twists his body around and fires his own pistol.
The recoil is all off. That gun is loaded with blanks! Seren stares incredulously, before glancing around at all the other aristocrats present. None of them seemed surprised in the slightest; slightly amused, if anything. What kind of mockery is this!?
"Hmph. I missed the vitals. Oh well, I can always get it next time." The aristocrat- Deadeye, the other pony had said-remarks.
I've let this farce go on long enough. Seren growls, and then-almost without thinking about it-crosses out into the field between the two ponies. "That's quite enough. Put an end to this nonsense or I'll put an end to you." Seren's voice is hard and pitiless as she takes up stance directly in front of the other aristocrat, legs spread in a wide and low stance. Though she had not yet drawn, her magic aura extends around the middle of the spellblade at her hip. "I won't sit by and watch you drag the name of the nobility through the muck with your transparent lack of anything resembling honorable conduct any farther." Glancing back at the merchant, who was currently moaning in pain and holding onto his injured leg, Seren jerks her head back. "Get out of here."
Saoirse scurries up to her side, looking a tad nervous despite grinning ear to ear with excitement. “Finally, some real excitement!” Seren gives a glance to the servant beside her before shaking her head, sighing. The reaction was hardly surprising; Saoirse was always eager to see any noble put in their place.
Seren looks back at the noble to find him glowering at her. “And just who are you, hm? You’re not a local, that’s for sure.” Deadeye’s voice is contemptuous, but carefully kept level and calm as he surveys the gryph.
“Lord Seren Ardorwynn of House Cadenza, heir apparent to the grand duchy of Luddas, daughter of Lord Duke Evander Featherdash Cadenza, at your service.” She didn’t like using her dastard of a father’s name to impress the other pony, but etiquette was etiquette, despite a complete lack of respect for the other pony.
Deadeye’s eyes widen in some degree of surprise. Seren allows herself a coy smile at that. Surely, the other aristocrat had expected to be talking to some small fry; a knight, or perhaps a gentlemare. Not a member of one of the more prominent noble families in Iweriu. Before the other noble can recover from his surprise, Seren whirls the spellblade from its sheath and crosses it over her chest. “Now, you can grovel at my hooves, or enjoy a far more fair match.”
The audience seems far more engaged by this than the previous spectacle. Somepony from the crowd whistles, jeering “She’s got you there, Deadeye!”
Deadeye eyes the crowd on either side, keeping his composure. “Well. I can hardly let an insult like that go unanswered, can I?” He eventually states icily. “Then I suppose I’ll have two ponies blood on my hooves today. We’ll duel with pistols, and once we’re done, I will resume my previous duel which you so brazenly interrupted.”
Seren laughs in his face, and shakes her head. “Ha, and let you cheat again? Not likely. We do things a little differently where I’m from. Use whatever you wish. We’ll fight to first blood.”
Deadeye scowls, glaring across. “And why should I accept your terms? Traditionally, the challenged party decides on the choice of weapon.”
Seren spits on the ground. “And traditionally the challenged party isn’t a lying scumbag either, yet here we are. Who precisely do you suppose is going to stop me from dueling as I see fit?” Seren cocks her head to the side, quirking her beak in a motion that Saoirse knows is the gryph equivalent of a smirk. “I suppose you could tuck your tail between your legs and show all your friends here what a coward you really are. But so long as you accept the duel with my terms made clear, nopony is going to stop me. Well? What will it be?”
Deadeye glances back and forth at the crowd, all watching him expectantly. Ordinarily, of course, such a demand would have been rejected outright, but in this circumstance, being watched by his peers and insulted in broad daylight... Seren almost giggles at the thought. There was no way any self-respecting aristocrat would deny her, here.
“Fine. I’ll endure your barbaric custom.” Deadeye eventually retorts, levitating his second pistol back to himself. “To first blood, then.”
“Ten paces.” Seren replies. He’ll try to cheat again, of course. That was fine; she was ready for it.
“No shields.” Deadeye responds, glaring at her. “I’ll tolerate the rest of your demands, but there is no way to have a fair match if you can simply block any projectiles.”
Seren nods, acquiescing. “So be it.”
----------------------------------------
Ten paces. No shield. And he’ll cheat and try to shoot me early, maybe on the eighth pace this time to try and take me by surprise. Seren ruminates, awaiting the signal. Deadeye didn’t have the luxury of bribing his opponents second this time, with Saoirse right by her side; so long as her own match was indisputably clean, he wouldn't have any dirt on her, no matter what his own second said. As might be expected, Deadeye had positioned himself such that the sun would be in Seren’s eyes when she turned around; another variable to account for.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Each step, Seren counts, eyes shut and ears swiveling to focus. No matter if it was the right number of paces or not, nopony could blame her for acting after her opponent drew.
Six. Seven. A scuffle, hooves on pavement, the whish of a gun being drawn from its holster.
Seren was ready. In the tiny space between her opponent turning and pulling the trigger, her horn lights up, blinking into position a meter to her side a fraction of a second before the thundercrack of a revolver firing. Her eyes flick open as she leaps forwards, the same time as Deadeye swung his hoof to the side to aim at her new position. But before he can shoot his second round, Seren’s spellblade flies from its sheath gripped in her magic, twirling in midair and striking the revolver from his hooves, the gun skidding across the pavement.
A flash of light emits as Seren’s spellblade darts back, and Deadeye’s horn lights up, conjuring a shield in retaliation to block the blade. Seren grins and charges home the rest of the distance.
Schlnk. Before Deadeye can react, Seren’s horn pierces his chest, drawing forth a hot spurt of blood before she wrenches it free, feeling its warmth as it trickles down her horn. Deadeye gasps and falls to his haunches, grasping at the wound and breathing heavily.
“The duel is over! Seren Ardorwynn of House Cadenza has won!” Seren doesn’t bother looking to see what pony had taken the role of announcer onto themself as a mixture of jeering, booing, cheering, and clapping fills the air around her. Her spellblade finds itself once again neatly tucked into its sheath at her side as she leers over her defeated opponent. Seizing his muzzle in one hoof, she pulls his gaze up to look into her eyes, staring pitilessly back down at him.
“Pathetic. Can’t win even with cheating.” Seren growls out. Deadeye’s gaze at her is filled with unbound hatred, but his wound is deep enough that he isn’t in any position to continue fighting, so he simply weakly shoves her with his uninjured side.
“You’ve already won. Just leave me be.” He mutters, huskily. “A doctor, somepony call me a doctor!” He follows up, louder, as he hobbles up to his hooves and staggers back towards his gun.
Seren turns back away, casting one more look back at the disgraced aristocrat. “Think twice before you commit to such a farce, next time. I won’t have you sullying the aristocracy's good name with your dishonor.”