Emilia’s stood pointing over at Henry in what would have been an impressive scene if not for the parcel of meat she clutched tightly in her left hand. For Henry and the two onlookers, her words took a moment to sink in. A duel? Lord of the Greater Paw? Did a Greater Paw even exist? Christoph tried to recall if he’d ever heard of such a thing.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry said. Because of the way that Christoph and Cliff were standing ever so slightly to Emilia’s rear, they could see Henry’s face as it twisted into an expression of contempt.

“First of all, I am not your subject, future lord of the Greater Paw, not that you have any subjects right now. Secondly, this is not the Greater Paw, and not territory of the beast clans. Finally,” Henry continued, “as an adventurer, you have made the choice to give up all other authority until you leave the guild. Which means that at this moment, I stand three ranks above you as a member of God’s Compass.”

Christoph blinked as he tried to follow the conversation.

“It’s true,” Cliff said from beside him. “The guild will bow down to the king and the church, but between members of the guild there are only guild ranks. Even if a prince was to join tomorrow he’d be only as powerful as his medallion, as far as other guild members would be concerned.”

“In other words,” Henry said. “You are a thief, bronze-ranker, and I have no intention of dueling you to recover my own property.”

“You will regret that,” Emilia said. “Soon, I will slay the monster that killed the Guardian, and you’ll be the one taking orders from me!” She crouched back down into a combat stance, her fur bristling as she moved.

Bristling? Christoph’s eyes narrowed for a moment before snapping back open. Ears! Furry ears stuck out from the top of Emilia’s head, partially hidden amongst her short-cropped hair. What he had thought of as a fur jacket and pants were also simply part of her body, short grey fur covering her limbs and back. Her actual garments were a pair of fur shorts, and a wrap that covered her upper torso which appeared to be made of the same material. Christoph half-turned towards Cliff to ask him about the beast clans, but stopped. If it was anything like the elves it would be unusual for him not to know.

Dashing across the camp towards Henry, Emilia knocked away the point of his sword. Taking another step, she closed in past the effective range of the weapon, the thin blade nearly useless for anything but thrusting attacks. He stabbed out with his dagger in return, Emilia deflecting the strike with her own knife before retaliating again.

The duel became a flurry of blows and counter-attacks, each side using their weapons and bodies to strike and block alike. Every so often Henry would force Emilia back into the range of his sword, but she was too agile to be taken down so easily, and he still had to remain wary of the poison glazed over her knife.

Christoph watched the fight in silence and although Cliff had readied his weapon long ago, he made no move to interfere. The two combatants continued to trade blows, neither striking their opponent despite the number of attacks they were making. With each miss, however, Emilia’s strikes seemed to build in strength. Henry’s own sword was forced back each time he tried to block, his parries soon unable to deflect the dagger by a large enough margin to allow for a proper counter.

Christoph stood speechless at the display of swordsmanship, footwork and dazzling speed before him. Although he had defeated the Guardian, that particular match-up was stacked in his favor. He had no doubt that if he was to interfere now, he would be crushed without a struggle. Henry was leagues ahead of him in terms of technique, even dwarfing the talent of his opponent. Emilia was only able to stand on even ground with him by relying on her brute strength and speed, dust rising off the stone beneath her feet with each step. The flicker of her inner mana glimmered brighter with every moment, reminding Christoph of how Coin had seemed to glow before he had struck the final blow to the dragon on the plains.

Christoph gritted his teeth and swallowed his frustration. Not only was he sorely lacking in information, he couldn’t even ask about things that might be common knowledge for fear of giving his cover away. Beside him Cliff sheathed his knife, turning towards Sierra who approached from the stream.

“Why have you not stopped this, brother?” she said.

“The opponent is an heir to the Greater Paw,” Cliff replied. “Although merely a bronze rank at the moment, she will not remain an adventurer for long after her coming of age. As representatives of both the Church and the guild, we cannot afford to ruin relations with the clans.”

Sierra paused for a moment before lifting her staff. “It would be more dangerous to have her make a claim to brother Henry,” she said. Lifting her staff, she held a hand out towards the duel, palm first. There was a flash of mana, and a sudden splash of water washed over Emilia, the clashing of blades interrupted by a cat-like hiss. The shine of mana that had built up in her body winked out of existence in a single moment, her fighting spirit thoroughly doused, and Henry stepped back from the duel as she whirled towards the trio of onlookers.

“How dare…” Emilia’s eyes widened in recognition as she took her first look at the adventurers, the meat falling from her hand in shock. “You!” she said. As quickly as it had disappeared, the blaze of mana surged back through her body. Sierra raised her staff again, a gust of wind forming to push the beast girl back away from them. The current of air, however, missed its mark by more than a meter. Rather than Sierra or Cliff, Emilia’s had charged towards the bystander – Christoph.

Barely able to recognize her attack before she struck, Christoph grabbed at her hand before her knife could bite into him. Water sprayed from her fur as she moved, her attack slightly slower with the added weight. Dropping the knife from her right hand, she caught it with her left and slammed it up between his ribs before could move. There was a moment of stillness before Christoph realized what had happened, looking down at the handle of the dagger as it protruded from the side of his chest.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Cliff’s dagger was suddenly slashing through the air in front of Christoph, Emilia forced to let go of her own to dodge his attacks. Christoph had the impression that Henry and Sierra were moving towards him, falling to his knees with a hand reaching up to wrap around the handle of Emilia’s dagger. Clenching his fist, he jerked the blade from his body, the thin rivulets of blood widening into a stream as the wound gaped open. He fell to the ground, the blade glinting in the sun as it followed.

Cliff was suddenly there again, snatching the knife from the rocky ground and glancing over it before tossing it away. “Hold him down!” he yelled, the rest of the group gathering around Christoph as the strength ebbed out of his limbs. He blinked up at them as his vision blurred, feeling the pressure settle onto his body as they pressed down not on his wound, but his arms and legs. He opened his mouth to ask them why, but no words came out. There was a sudden pulse in his torso, as if his core was cramping, and then the pain began.

Just a little at first, a burning sensation spread from the wound around his torso. It built up with each pulse of his heart, growing larger with each breath. At the same time, a feeling of immense pressure appeared in his chest, following the pain out over his body. Sierra looked down at his from where she crouched over his legs, her gaze resting on his chest as the blood continued to spill.

“What about the wound?” she asked.

“Close it if you can,” Cliff replied grimly. “Just hold him down. Get ready, it’s starting.”

The pressure in Christoph’s body suddenly disappeared, the slow burning feeling surging into an explosion of pain. His veins stood out under his skin as a scream caught in his throat. Jerking his limbs in agony, Cliff and Henry fought to hold him still against the stone underneath, Sierra attempting to pin his legs as well. Christoph’s thrashing surpassed their expectation, however, and they were soon thrown free, lifted bodily and wrenched around as he writhed in pain. Letting go of his legs, Sierra stood over him and lifted her staff yet again.

“If this continues he’ll smash himself to death on the rocks,” she said. “Lend me your strength, brother.” Mana shone through the staff she held, and Christoph slowly rose off of the rocks to thrash and spasm in the air, blood splashing down onto the ground below.

…

The fire was burning brightly when Christoph awoke shivering, cold despite feeling the heat from the fireplace burning the skin of his uncovered face. Sitting up, he threw off the blanket that had been laid across him, and slowly rose to his feet.

“How do you feel?” Cliff asked. The archer was sitting across the fire from him, elbows resting on his knees as he looked over at Christoph.

“Weak,” Christoph said, sitting on a nearby ledge. “Hungry, too. What happened?” Henry was nowhere to be seen, while Sierra lay sleeping underneath a blanket not unlike the one he had cast aside a moment before.

“You were stabbed by the beast-girl,” Cliff replied. “Besides the stab wound, the amount of poison you took in would have been enough to lock up your muscles, causing you to break your bones and crush your own lungs.”

“Does something like that exist?” Christoph asked.

“It does. When used in a duel it’s customary to administer an antidote to your opponent afterwards.” Cliff rose up to look over at him seriously. “Sierra burned out her reserves healing you, but you still should’ve been out for another day.”

“I’ll have to thank her when she wakes up,” Christoph said. “What about the cat-girl?”

Cliff stood silently for a moment before replying. “It’s hard for beast-kin to fight with wet fur,” he said. “Besides, if she doesn’t dry off she’ll overheat, and I doubt she’d be willing to strip down without returning to her camp.”

“Henry?” Christoph asked.

“On watch. Nobody expected you to be awake yet, or I’m sure he would’ve liked to have been here.” Cliff narrowed his eyes. “Do you know that girl?”

Christoph shook his head. Was it possible that she’d seen him while he’d been hunting the forest beasts? She did say that she’d be killing the ‘monster’ soon, so unless that was false confidence she might have actually had her eye on him for some time. Well, she obviously hadn’t been watching him enough to realize that he’d joined up with God’s Compass.

“We healed you, Christoph,” Cliff said, “but I’m not sure that was the right choice. Did you really happen to chance upon the Guardian as it lay dying already? Are you really a traveler who used to be a mage in a distant land?”

Christoph raised an eyebrow. “My name is Luke, remember?” he said with an easy grin. “But I’m extremely thankful for your help, especially Sierra’s. I’m not sure how I can prove anything, but I hope that you’ll continue to look after me. If Sierra can help me channel again, I want to stay.”

Cliff sat back down with a smile and a sigh. “Don’t look forward to it that much, ” he said. “Sierra’s lessons are hard and painful. Besides, it’ll take her a while to recover the amount of mana she spent healing you. I’m sure you were quite a mage before you lost your way.”

Christoph laughed gently, careful not to wake Sierra from her sleep. “Thank you for the compliment,” he said, “but at the moment I’m just a sorry pilgrim who can’t even light a fire on his own. No matter how hard her lessons, I’ll endure them.”

Cliff’s shoulders dropped as he relaxed, the tension leaving his body. “It’s my turn for the watch,” he said. “I’ll go relieve Henry.” Standing, he stretched for a moment before wandering out of camp to where the half-elf was keeping lookout over the forest.

After Cliff disappeared up into the trees, Christoph stood and stretched in imitation of the adventurer. His conversation with Cliff had been far too close for comfort. No doubt that Henry would share the same concerns when he returned, and if Emilia was to contact the group it would be the end of him. He glanced around the small camp, eyes coming to rest on Sierra’s sleeping form before he bowed his head in thanks.

“Thank you,” he said softly, “and goodbye.”