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Act 3, Swords are the Best Rhetoric

Constanz tied his horse to the bridge and didn't feel the narrow and treacherous nature of the devil's bridge until he stepped on it.

These bridges were built during the Empire's most prosperous years, carrying armies and traders through the Uaine forest. However, with the eruption of the Anganar volcano, many bridges were shattered, and those that remained were covered in ash and lost their former glory, becoming an unknown and sorrowful spectacle, marking a past that can never be returned to.

The knight walked cautiously and struggled to maintain his balance on the slippery and shaking stones. He must be careful of his footing while also resisting the urge to reach for a nonexistent railing - because the edge of the bridge is empty, and underneath the arch of the bridge is a bottomless ravine. Since the last new moon, at least seven people have fallen from here and none have survived.

The narrow bridge made Constanz consider removing his armor, but the coldness within the mist made him change his mind. Constanz put his hand on the hilt of his sword and moved forward cautiously. In the dense fog, a crouching statue of a gargoyle gradually appeared. Constanz was about to take a closer look when a sudden gust of wind made him pause - the cold wind stroked the hair on the statue. Except It wasn't a statue, but a wolf crouching.

As if hearing a visitor, the black wolf lifted its head, and then lifted its drooping neck. Its wolf-skin cloak fell to the ground as it stood up. The black wolf turned around, revealing its true form - a raggedly dressed boy with two eyes hidden under his messy black hair, dragging a sharp and eerie blade. Constanz remembered seeing this chilling weapon in the Eastern provinces during his seventy years of war, where it arched rebelliously over square shields and shattered the skulls of imperial soldiers like fruits.

"Who are you?" Constanz asked loudly through his visor. "Why do you attack travelers? Why do you attack imperial soldiers?"

Just as Constanz was guessing that the other party might not understand Etnan language, the boy answered in an Eastern province accent, "They all want to cross the river, but they cannot accept themselves wading through it." The wolf's child kicked up the blade with his toes, pointing at the iron man wearing heavy armor, "Do you also want to cross the bridge?"

"No, I'll pass," Constanz declined with a raised hand, attempting to continue questioning, "You don't look like an imperial soldier, nor do you look like a fire keeper. Young man, could you please find another place to slaughter? The bodies you left behind scare the cowards downstream."

"Shouldn't you show a little sincerity if you want others to cooperate?" The young man continued to point his sword with a reverse blade to Constanz and took a step forward. "You should know that running away in that heavy armor is useless."

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Constanz looked back and found that the young man wasn't just putting on an act. The two were indeed trapped with each other in the middle of the bridge. He thought to himself that the seven dead warriors didn't die solely from their rather light armor, but from the armor called "pride" in their hearts that prevented them from turning away and fleeing.

"Fine, I can dance with you," Constanz drew his sword from his waist and gripped the handle with his fingertips. "But you're asking for death, kid."

"Yes, a glorious, honorable death."

As the young man's voice entered Constanz’s helmet, his figure disappeared from sight. Constanz looked down and saw that the young man had already plunged in front of him, lowering his body, while the reverse blade attacked from left to right. The knight blocked it at the last moment, but lost his balance and retreated two steps. He felt his heel suspended in the air and quickly extended his right hand holding the sword to raise his leaning upper body back to the bridge.

After a round of fighting, Constanz and the young man switched positions. The clumsy knight had not yet stumbled and fallen off the cliff, and the other party seemed surprised by this. After a while, he turned around.

"You're a skilled swordsman." The wind followed, lifting the tattered clothes. The young man's mouth had a faint smile, "Whether you die under my hand or I die under yours, today is a lovely day."

"What's your name, young man swinging his sword like a beast?" Constanz raised his long sword to his right ear and aimed the tip of the sword at the standing young man. As if if he didn't do this, the kid would disappear from his sight again. "Why did you choose to fight someone you don't know in a corner where no one knows?"

"Do you need a reason to swing your sword?" The other party sneered and kicked up the reverse blade with his toes again, holding the handle tightly with his calloused fingertips.

In that moment, Constanz saw a young thief in the boy, with a crooked helmet and an out-of-proportion weapon, his blood boiling with the brutality of war and bloodshed. When the enemy's blood splattered on his face, the grown-up asked if he was hurt, but the voice seemed distant, as if through water; no, he wasn't hurt, and even bathing in blood didn't make him feel sick. The fresh blood splashed on his face and trampled underfoot made him feel the passion of life for the first time.

Constanz's heart beats like a pounding drum. The boy reminded him that fighting was once a happy thing before he found the divine flame in that out-of-control carriage. Therefore, he made an exception to suggest to the boy before him:

"I am the commander of the Ninth Legion of Etna, and people call me Constanz. My legion needs manpower, and if you join me, I can pardon your sins." However, even with Constanz's grace, the boy remained unmoved, not even raising an eyebrow. "Kid, with your skills, you'll soon have a hundred-man squad to command."

"A hundred-man squad? What is that compared to today's victory?"

The boy's high-spirit resonated with long-forgotten words such as "battle", "victory", "dignity", and "happiness", making Constanz grin, but his brow and words still exuded a freezing coldness.

"Follow me, and I'll show you something bigger than victory."

"Then let's talk with swords, after all, swords are the best rhetoric."