It was not until midmorning of the next day that Ishad showed up. Mai only had enough time to tell him of the impending duel, and did as much. After consideration, she told Ishad of Broken’s offer to her, and that she had refused it.

“Did I do the right thing?” she asked Ishad, wondering if she should have passed the decision on to him, instead of making it on her own. But then, as Broken had said, Ishad had forgiven him. Mai had not.

“Yes,” replied Ishad. “I did not think he would apologize, but he has, and what is past is past.”

“He didn’t actually say he apologized directly,” Mai admitted. “He implied as much.”

“Ah,” said Ishad. “That’s more like the Broken I know. But you made the right decision, nevertheless.” His brow, however, creased into a frown, and he glanced around at the walls of Mai’s apartments. “I must leave again for business, but I will be back in time to see Broken defeat Savel.”

“For business?” Mai repeated.

“Yes.” Ishad smiled slyly. “Belium Tarquin took me on. I have a job.”

Mai looked at him, unbelieving for a moment. Then a whole host of emotions flooded her. She was happy, happy beyond perhaps reason. But if Ishad could get a job in a matter of days, who knows how far he can rise? Maybe his dreams of becoming a wealthy merchant are more than just dreams, and we can live happily ever after, together, as husband and wife.

Ishad left soon after he said those words, but for several minutes after he was gone, Mai did nothing but sit on her bed, smiling at the breeze that filtered through the open window.

But then she got up, intent on seeing Broken, and left her room.

Mai closed the door behind her, then checked Broken’s room, but he was not there. As she thought to check the training room, as Broken might have gotten there early for the duel, a man came up from behind her.

Mai wheeled around, just in time to see Savel slam down a hand on either side of the wall behind Mai, pinning her to wall without actually touching her. He leaned in, but Mai refused to let herself shrink back.

“Step back,” Mai told Savel, coolly. She looked around at the passerby in the hall, but none of them seemed the least bit inclined to help her.

“Are you wondering why no one stops me?” asked Savel, his white cape just barely touching the ground. “Are you wondering why dozens of people see this, and yet they do not interfere?”

“Quite,” said Mai.

“Because I am the Lord of the Second Paril,” said Savel. “I am the second highest ranked in the city. No one would dare interfere in my business.”

“Except perhaps, for the Lord of the First Paril?” asked Mai, wondering where she was getting her nerve. “Lord Ashat is my personal friend, and I doubt he would appreciate your behavior.”

“Perhaps you are right,” said Savel. “And perhaps not. Perhaps he even condones this.” Savel abruptly let his arms drop to his sides, and stepped back a pace. “I would advise you not to run,” he said. “We do not need a scene.”

Mai stayed where she was, as if rooted.

“One thing I wonder about, Princess,” said Savel, folding his arms, “Is your behavior.” He brushed his dirty-brown hair, and his blue eyes stared at her. “You do not act like a princess.”

“I do not need to act in any particular way to be who I am by birthright,” said Mai. “I am the sole child of Emperor Mentis, may he rest for eternity in Elysium. I. Am. Your. Better.”

“Did you ever hear of the Codes of Sara?” asked Savel. “Did you ever learn them? Or did you never even look at them once?”

“I am familiar with the Codes,” said Mai, “as I am sure you know.”

“Do I?” asked Savel. “The first time we met, I thought you were a common peasant. Why? Because you acted like one.”

“I can act however I choose,” said Mai. “I know the Codes, but I prefer not to follow some of them.”

“Why did you not ask for servants to wait on you, when you arrived at Asan Paril?” asked Savel.

“Because I did not need them.”

“You were entitled. You were more than entitled. Very few noblewomen indeed get dressed without help, and you are the greatest of them all.”

“During my travels,” said Mai, “I managed without servants. And now, I no longer see the need for a pair of women to pamper me as I get dressed. Men do not need assistance.”

“But we are the ones who suffer,” said Savel shaking his head at her, in quite a way that Mai couldn’t be sure if he was serious. “Men break their backs so that women can take from them. It is the order of things.”

“The Imperial Family makes the order of things,” responded Mai.

“But as you are the last one left of the Imperial Family,” said Savel, “do not you think it is best to set the example?”

“No,” said Mai. Gaining confidence, she said, “We are quite through here, my lord. I have been thinking about what you said, and I think any number of men would be sure to help a woman in obvious distress.”

“If I do not go, what will you do?” asked Savel.

“Scream,” Mai said simply.

Savel backed away a few paces, but before he turned to walk away, it seemed he had one final thing to tell Mai. “I await you at the training room, Princess,” he said. “For while other women would never dream of going to a fight, you are Broken’s lapdog,” he said. “And you are a merchant’s whore.”

Before Mai could respond, Savel blew her a kiss, and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.

Mai’s eyes narrowed into slits. A few months ago, she would have been indignant after that conversation. Now, she was just angry.

Broken, she thought, you better wipe that smirk off his face for good.

An hour or so later, Mai started walking, heading for the training room. Her hands were clasped into fists.

On the first floor, the training room was in a state quite unlike what Mai had expected. Much of the room had been cleared of all equipment and weapons, and a large circle had been drawn in red on the floor, right in the middle of the room’s empty center. Around this circle, comfortable looking benching had been placed, most of which having awnings.

Even as Mai watched, chair after chair was being taken out of storage somewhere, and placed around the circle. Mai had known the upcoming duel between Savel and Broken was to be a watched event, but she had no idea it was going to be this watched.

For the room was not filled with its normal accompaniment of training soldiers. There were soldiers here of course, but they, like the other masses, seemed like they were in the room not to train, but to watch the upcoming event.

For indeed, within the room, there were masses.

Nobles of all sorts had filled about half the seats with awnings, and their attendants sat in the lesser seats. Nobles and their attendants were not the only ones in the room; there were also functionaries, and servants, from every part of the Palace. Contrary to what Savel had said, there were quite a few noblewomen. And more people poured in with every passing moment.

In the throng, Mai searched for Broken, and found him, quite near the ring, standing and taking to a variety of soldiers.

As Mai came closer, she heard one of the soldiers say, “You know, Savel never fights in tournaments, Broken.”

Before Broken could respond, Mai saw Savel enter the group, and say, “That’s only because I challenge the best, and tournaments are filled with too many drivel for my taste.”

As Mai was decided whether or not she should still approach Broken, with Savel close by, from behind, someone tapped her shoulder.

Mai spun around. It was Ishad.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Looking for me?” he asked, grinning.

“You got your business done fast,” said Mai. “It couldn’t have been more than an hour.”

Ishad smiled. “I think I work faster than I think I do,” he said. “But all of the places I had to go to today were quite close to the Palace. In the future, I should be gone longer.”

“You’re finding you dream,” she told him. “I don’t care how much time you have to put in to make that happen.”

It seemed as if only a little more time had elapsed when servants began to announce, in loud voices, that everyone had to find a seat, as the match was soon to begin.

Mai was recognized as princess by several of the servants, and so she and Ishad got good seats, near the front of one of the awnings.

Mai settled in, as she watched the great deal of hustle and bustle before her.

And then finally, everyone was either seated, or standing still, and eagerly peering forward. A great quiet swept over the training room-turned amphitheater.

From opposite ends of the red circle, the two combatants emerged. They were garbed far differently than how Mai had seen them last.

Savel entering from the right, wore white leather armor, and a long, white cape, that dragged perhaps three feet along the ground. A jewel-hilted sword sat carefully in its sheath at Savel’s right hip. Mai noticed that the sword was not the same one Savel had almost killed Ishad over.

From the left, looking quite Savel’s opposite, came Broken. He wore his traditional black leather, and the sword he had received from the Holy Citadel in replacement for Aurasing was at his waist. By contrast with Savel’s Broken’s sword looked completely inconspicuous. He wore a cape as well, a black one.

As Mai saw the two of them, so close together, she noticed something. Savel looked like nothing so much as a less jaded Broken. In features, they seemed quite similar, but Savel’s blue eyes could not come near the intensity of Broken’s gray.

There was no announcement as the two strode to the center of the circle. No announcement was necessary. The crowds could plainly see there was no love lost between the two.

When there was no more than six feet between the combatants, the ritual began.

“I, Savel is Varad, do challenge you, Broken, to a duel.”

“I accept said challenge,” said Broken. “Name the terms.”

“A battle until one of us two acknowledges surrender,” said Savel, “or one of us two is dead.”

“Agreed.”

The verbal part of the ritual completed, the combatants bowed at each other, and held that bow for a slow five count. Then they rose, exactly at the same time, and shrugged off their capes to the ground. The ritual was over.

The duel was to begin.

Almost at the same time, Savel and Broken stepped backwards into similar deep fighting stances, drawing their swords. The familiar ring of steel echoed through the near silent training room.

Savel stepped forward, rotating his sword in his right hand as a spinning wheel, loosening his arm up.

In response, Broken took a step backwards.

A slight chuckle rippled through parts of the crowd.

“Why do you step back?” taunted Savel. “Do you fear me?”

Broken said nothing, but stared coolly into Savel’s eyes. That was answer enough.

Nothing happened for a moment, then another moment. Some of the crowd, getting tired of the waiting game, shifted.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, seemingly with no warning, Savel came at Broken. With a savage war cry, he aimed a blow for Broken’s left thigh, but that attack was not to succeed.

No longer retreating, Broken blocked.

The two swords locked for a moment, and Mai, from her vantage point, could just barely see a vein bulge in Savel’s temple.

There was an appreciative noise from the crowd now. They realized that Broken had talent, and that watching the fight would not be a waste of their time.

The crowd’s support of Broken angered Savel. Instead of retreating to recalculate, Savel launched into a flurry of sword strikes, with the intent of overwhelming Broken, and ending the fight right there and then.

But Broken did not break. He parried attack after attack, seemingly without inclination to launch one of his own. He did not retreat, either.

And then, finally, Savel did.

He stepped back a few paces, breathing briskly at his exertion. The crowd oo-ed and ah-ed appreciatively at Broken’s skills.

For Broken, having just endured a brutal assault, seemed none the worse for it. He raised his sword over his head, causing the crowd to cheer.

And also causing Savel to think him distracted, and charge once more.

But Broken was not distracted. Indeed, it seemed nothing could be further from the truth.

Savel was skilled, quite skilled, but he was no master. Broken was a master.

Broken warded off Savel’s assault, and for the first time in the duel began one of his own.

Broken’s strikes were not wild, like those of Savel. They were calibrated, not to kill, not to overwhelm and end the duel right then, but to merely cause Savel to retreat.

And so Savel did, and Broken pushed forward, his calm face betraying none of the effort of his arms and legs.

This went on until finally, Savel was pushed back almost to the red circle.

Then Broken smiled, and stepped back.

Looking carefully, Mai saw what might have been fear in Savel’s eyes. He skirted around past Broken, and back to the middle of the red circle.

The crowd knew he only had been able to do as much, because Broken let him.

Broken slowly turned to Savel’s new position. Mai was reminded of hunter and hunted. Broken was the hunter, and Savel was the prey.

Savel desperate to regain his lost dignity, began orating. “Why do you wait, Broken? Who do you not end this? The truth, I know. It is because you can’t.”

Broken let Savel finish his speech, and then made his first vocalization of the duel. For the briefest of moments, he laughed.

That sound echoed through the chamber, more powerful than sliding steel.

Slowly, Broken began to walk towards Savel.

Savel formed a defensive stance, and waited.

Then Broken reached his adversary.

Swords danced so fast Mai didn’t know who had the upper hand, but then Broken pulled away, staggering, and Savel had upon his face a look of contentment.

But not for long.

Broken’s body straightened at the moment Savel had least expected it, and Broken dealt Savel a blow with the side of his sword, carrying so much force that Savel fell to the ground.

Broken looked down at Savel, ominously, as he held something up in his hand for the crowd.

It was a vial of black liquid.

“Wrath,” Broken said to the crowd. “A corrosive he wished to spill on me. Had Savel been successful, this liquid would have burnt through my armor, and dissolved my skin and organs. This man before you wished to win through use of poison.” Broken pocketed the vial. “But I caught it first.”

From the ground, Savel’s sword dropped out of his hand, in surprise. “I do not know where that came from,” he said. “Broken is a liar.”

“Do you really think I would need Wrath to defeat one as pathetic as you?” asked Broken. “What I wonder, is what exactly you were going to say, when your enemy dropped to the floor from a smoking chest wound. But, being the talker you are, I’m sure you would have thought of something.”

“I…” said Savel.

“But that eventuality is behind us now,” said Broken. “Deal with the present.” Making sure the assembled crowd had a clear view of what was going on, Broken kicked Savel in the chest, flipping him over.

On his back, Savel wheezed breath.

“Do you surrender?” asked Broken, looking down upon him.

“Yes,” breathed Savel.

“Then this is done,” said Broken, rather unceremoniously. “I win.”

Broken turned, and walked out of the ring, leaving Savel on the ground.

There was a burst of spontaneous clapping, and then a few guards rushed out into the ring, to help the man on the ground.

With his arms supported by the backs of two soldiers, the Lord of the Second Paril hobbled to his exit.

Mai turned to look at Ishad.

“The kicking was rather appropriate, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Rather.”

With the duel over, the onlookers began to file out of the training room. Mai and Ishad joined them.

***

The Lord Ashat visited Savel is Varad in the latter’s personal chambers in the Palace, and waved all the servants away.

Savel sat in a chair, clutching his chest with one hand, as the much larger man stood over him.

“After your defeat in battle,” said Tur, “I thought it highly unlikely you were going to come to me, so, instead, I came to you. What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I made a mistake,” said Savel, rather softly.

Tur had watched the duel, so he was quite aware why Savel was in pain. He thought Savel deserved more. “You made a mistake?” Tur repeated. “I do not think that begins to cover your monumental failure. You came to me, and gave me reassurances. And now you deliver…this. If I had been Broken, if I had been the one to have almost been killed by Wrath, you would never have left the circle alive. Do you have no honor?”

“The Wrath wasn’t mine,” said Savel. “Broken planted…”

“There are no servants here.” Tur scowled. “Tell the truth.”

“It was mine.”

“Better.” Tur looked carefully at Savel. “Now, I have a question,” he said. “Broken mentioned how hard it would be for you to explain away if he died from Wrath. What was your plan?”

“I was going to pretend the Wrath was Broken’s,” said Savel. “I was going to pretend that he was going to use it on me, and by accident, he spilled it on himself.”

Tur considered. That actually was a good plan, killing Broken and discrediting him at the same time. “And because you are the Lord of the Second Paril, and Broken is but an outsider, you thought the crowds would believe you.”

“Yes,” said Savel.

“But the way things played out, that did not exactly come to pass, now, did it?” asked Tur, refocusing the conversation.

“Broken is a rare fighter,” said Savel. “Based on his cowardly tactics in Barad, I did not think he would be possessed of so much skill.”

“The best warriors tend to be the most unorthodox ones,” said Tur. “Training is not talent. Broken is one of the best I have ever seen. And you were humiliated by him. Things were supposed to pass much as the opposite.”

“I can still do what I set out to do,” said Savel. “In a few days, I can goad Mai into--”

“Stop, Savel,” said Tur. “Stop before I do to you what Broken should have. I came to a realization during the duel, a realization that I should never have gone along with your idea. If I force someone to break a Law of the Empire, I have not upheld my word to protect that person. Mai is under my protection, know that.” Tur laughed. “And it’s not like you could do anything to the Princess with Broken as her bodyguard.”

“Don’t laugh,” said Savel. “I got to the Princess this morning, and Broken wasn’t around to protect her.”

“Probably because he was contemplating just how to humiliate you in the duel,” said Tur.

“I have not conceded to him,” said Savel. “Broken has not bested me yet.”

“I can show you a hundred witnesses to the duel who would say otherwise,” said Tur. “And in any case, you are done. I allowed your actions before, but now I will not tolerate them. Maiako will remain here, and as you reassured me, the demon will not be able to touch her again.”

Tur turned to leave.

“Don’t go,” said Savel, from behind.

Tur heard the noise of Savel forcing his aching body to stand. Tur looked back, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Savel wobbled on unsteady legs. “The Princess might be under your protection,” he said, “but Broken needs to be gotten rid of. There is something not right about him. Who keeps a giant owl as a pet?”

“Apparently,” said Tur, “he does. While I do agree that there is something not quite right about Broken, telling the Princess that she is safe here also honors me to keep her servants safe. And in any case, I am not in the business of killing random people because they do not seem right.”

Tur turned more fully around to Savel. “Or, in you case, killing people for revenge. Broken defeated you honorably. I cannot say you fought him in the same manner.”

Tur had no desire to listen to another word Savel had to say. He strode out of the room, as the man behind him sputtered.

Behind him, Tur heard Savel collapse back down into his chair.