(I've added onto the interlude with a description of dragons, so if you're interested, go give it a peek. Let me know what you think so far, please. I'm reaching the point where I'm having to heavily edit, because of how bad I used to be and still am with dialogue.)

A giant gleaming hand sparkled in the first sun’s light, pure silver by the sound that it made hourly, when the hand was struck with a hammer to announce the time of day. Time and that hand conspired to rob Hym slowly of his life, as the sun sped up in the sky and the hand chimed with its melancholy melody in what seemed like once every five minutes.

Hym was taken prisoner by the Knights of the Silver Hand two days ago, and by rights he had three days to be well rested before he was put on trial and judged accordingly. Vip had visitation rights, and spent most of his days with Hym, mourning the soon to be loss of his best friend and scheming to free him all at the same time.

Hym had descended into a pensive stupor, and was thinking over how wrong it was that by being Skaldian he was immediately condemned to a brutal death. The door opened, and a courier stepped through the doorway. The courier was a strange little man, with an oversized pink hat. He wore light leather armor, and his nose was pierced with a miniature dumbbell.

He coughed to obtain their attention, and when this didn’t work, growled and barked out his message. “Hym, son of none, captive of Field Captain Darion, you are to be escorted to a trial by arms, and summarily sentenced according to your actions.” That said, the courier departed, and two oversize, muscle-bound guards entered, seizing Hym by the shoulders, and roughly shoving him along towards the courtyard.

Darion was annoyed. Life had been nothing but a mess since the desertion of the Palather, the leader of the Silver Hand, and it just kept getting worse. The halls of the Silver Hand rumbled with discontent. Rumors of treachery were spreading throughout the monastery. The Skaldian prisoner was to duel him today, in order to judge his right to live.

Uman forbid that he had been trained in any weapons. The couriers still insisted on referring to Darion as a Field captain. Those uppity little bastards would get what was coming to them. The only shining light in his situation was the capture of that dragon.

Finding Vip had changed his life right around, promoting him to Captain and assuring him better living quarters than the usual hovel in the docks district of Utharan. Getting down on his knees to thank Uman for his love and generosity, Darion prayed. Pulling himself from his knees, Darion buckled on Arturis, his blessed blade, and exited his chambers.

“You are to take 10 paces, about face, draw your sword, bow to each other, and commence combat. When the bell tolls, you are to immediately stop your assault, drop your weapon, and kneel.” The instructions read and clearly understood, the courier backed away from the dueling grounds and watched as Hym, not owning a weapon, was handed a rapier.

Hym looked down at the sword in his hand, and then looked at the sword in Darion’s hand. Painfully aware of the size and muscle difference, Hym thought he would retch. Seeking to distract himself until the duel actually started, Hym recalled some distant advice about observing the world around to gain an advantage. Looking around, Hym saw that they were actually going to fight in a large courtyard. The grass was a vibrant shade of green, healthier than grew in the wild, and there were carefully tended flowers growing throughout, casting dizzying displays of blues, reds, and purples.

Trees ringed the courtyard, blocking the sun enough to allow perfect vision, and a small stream wandered through the middle of the courtyard. Vip was in the crowd observing the duel, mostly because who was going to attempt to stop him? Someone poked Hym in the back.

Starting, Hym jumped and looked around. Everyone was glaring at him, as if he was some type of beast. Which Hym was, he supposed, but that didn’t explain why absolutely all eyes were focused on him. Darion’s eyes narrowed and he stated, loudly enough to be heard all the way in the Wandering Isles, “The duel will begin immediately. Assume your position.”

Hym sank into a low crouch, the blade in his hand at the ready. Darion merely walked forward, barely seeming to acknowledge Hym’s presence as an enemy. Coming into range, Darion unleashed a lazy horizontal slash, which Hym jumped backwards from, to the general discontent of the crowd around. Darion, becoming annoyed that the Skaldian wouldn’t die so easily, got serious. He started unleash smooth, flowing attacks with his double edged long sword.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Hym was sweating as he gripped the pommel of the rapier, barely dodging each attack that Darion unleashed, scared for his life and wishing to any and all gods for some divine intervention. For all useful purposes, he was trying to block a landslide with a toothpick! He prayed to Uman, the god of good. He prayed to Lumow, the god of evil. He would pray to the grass under his feet, if it would only save him!

Knowing it was pointless, he began to concentrate, knowing that if he didn’t focus at all, he was doomed. A song struck Hym’s ears, coming from outside the walls. A funeral dirge; go figure. Subconsciously, Hym began to hum along; it seemed appropriate. The battle continued, and the blade seemed to weigh a lot less as it dragged on. Even Darion’s mighty blows seemed slower. Perhaps the knight was getting tired?

Hym wore nothing but the ragged leather kilt he had always worn, and the knight was in full body armor. Hym wondered at this, but not questioning any luck, of whatever providence, he took control of the battle. Realizing that the situation was in hand, Hym started pressing Darion back.

Deflecting Darion’s sword, which was coming in with a vertical strike, Hym swiftly performed a roundhouse, horizontal slash with his blade. Somehow, the blade penetrated Darion’s armor, and blood spurted from the gaping wound. Falling backwards from the force of the strike, Darion landed on his ass, his blade held before him, blocking Hym’s next, full power vertical slash. Hym’s blade sang in the second sun’s light, and Hym struck with all his might.

The rapier connected with the heavily enchanted blade, and the blade of Darion’s sword went flying, landing standing up in the dirt next to Darion’s head. Hym’s own blade missed by a narrow margin, and also struck the dirt by Darion’s head. The knight lay on his back, eyes bulging, as the scent of urine wafted oh so fragrantly into the air. Hym stood up, bringing his blade with him, and then fell over onto his own back, exhausted.

There was immediately an uproar from the crowd, as the duel was clearly at an end. Hym had Darion beaten, and there was no way the duel could continue. Still yelling for Hym’s death, and jeering at Darion, the crowd surged forward, perhaps thinking to take matters into their own hands.

Hissing, Vip flew forward and stood over Hym’s body, roaring, “Anyone who touches Hym dies!” Retreating, the crowd still muttered angrily. The courier came forward to try to reason with him, but dodged out of the way as a volley of flames was the only retort he got.

“This boy is not his parents, or his ancestors, or his race for that matter, he is only himself and it is wrong to persecute him just to continue your blind hatred. Have you no honor as knights? You’ve dragged him from his home, where he did no harm, and brought him here. You put him, an untrained boy, into single combat against a fully armed, trained knight. You promised him life if he was victorious, and now you intend to renege? You are no knights; you’re no better than hopped up bandits! ” Vip finished his speech with a resounding roar.

The throng of knights stilled, stopping to think about what Vip had said. Rarely do such moments of clarity come in our everyday lives, most pursue life with their ears closed, unwilling to hear another side. One by one, the knights reflected, and slowly lowered their weapons, with a look of shame. The strange courier who brought Hym to the duel stepped forward, a look of thoughtfulness on his face.

Taking off his hat, and removing his nose piercing, his face abruptly morphed, becoming different. Long silver hair swept gracefully down his back, his height increased by a few inches, and wiry muscles bulged, but most remarkable was the distortion of his facial features. Rather than a young man, a rugged, strong older man stood. “The Palather” “He’s come back!” “Where has he been?” the crowd muttered.

The knights stared in shock, as the Palather looked around. His face was set in displeasure, as he had seen the unruliness that had taken the knights when their leader had left. Shaking his head, he ordered, “Stand down men. Truly, it disgusts me to see you all like this. Where has your reason gone? Where is your valor, where is your honor? Where is your respect for the law? There will be a reckoning for the actions today. Let this… boy, go. He has passed the trial by arms.” The previously unruly mob as one turned, and fled.

(Thank you once again for reading, please comment / rate, it really inspires me.)