“Duelling is typical of the Imperial culture. Solving disagreements by stabbing each other to death, what a civilized tradition. Here in the north, we do things with much more thinking involved. Issues and contentions are brought before the city's lord, who then pronounces his judgement. The matter is settled and the quarrelling parties are expected to respect the lord's decision. It works very well when the ruling lord is a fair, reasonable person. Less so when the demon lord corresponds exactly to the image the Empire has of our race – vicious, mad and evil. I reckon that in some cases, agreeing to a duel would be a better option than having your entire family, and yourself, arbitrary getting sent to the gallows because you were selling overpriced wheat.
-citizen of Atharemine”
* * *
Azcheron
Kalithazar displayed a large smile as his minions helped him wear his fluted steel armour. It seemed a bit heavier than Erin's gear, but with his build the demon would probably manage to keep up with her speed.
Erin gazed at the scene, her eyes wandering on the bandit's breastplate, the helm, the leggings, gloves, the two-handed sword and everything she'd have to face. A wall of steel, yes. But a wall with cracks, Azcheron observed. Kalithazar's armour had no rondel covering the juncture of the torso and the arm, and the back of the thighs weren't really protected either. These body parts had only mail to rely on.
Eventually, Erin turned to Azcheron. “Help me take this thing off,” she pointed to her own armour.
He frowned. “Are you sure ?”
“Yes. I don't need it. It could get me killed, actually.”
Azcheron complied silently. Of course, he would be ready to use magic at any time if he believed Erin's life was in danger. He didn't care about her honour or pride. He only cared about her life. He wasn't even sure she'd care either about honour and pride. Maybe she'd be angry for a moment, but then they'd move on. But not if she died. He didn't mind exterminating the whole bandit camp in a second if he deemed it necessary. Only if it was necessary. For now, he'd trust Erin.
She stretched a bit once she was unburdened. She was now only wearing a tunic, pants and boots. A random swing could kill her. Well, she surely wouldn't let a random swing kill her, but the risk existed. Though what she lost in defence, she gained back in speed and accuracy. He hoped, at least.
She strapped two daggers to her belt, then grabbed her sword and round shield. And that was it, she stepped in the duel grounds. Kalithazar was already taller than her, but now he looked even more intimidating, all clad in steel.
“I can't guarantee I won't injure you, but I'd say it's fine. We can still enjoy you even if you're missing a few limbs.” The bandits all laughed at their chief's taunt. “And if you die, well... I'm sure there are some among us who won't mind it !” Sparse laughs. Kalithazar let out one last chuckle before putting his helmet on. Plain but sturdy, with only a slit for the sight.
How does it go usually ? The fast one versus the strong one. The little one versus the big one. I've always thought of Erin as the latter. Hammering and punching and cleaving people in half. Strong and brutal.
Erin made her sword spin as she walked around the arena, kicking away stones and branches that could hinder her footwork.
I did watch her training with Karlos, but wooden swords don't count. I've never seen her fighting seriously without her armour.
The two duellists stood a few steps away. A bandit blew a horn, signalling the start of the duel.
With the mad eyes of an eagle glaring at a prey, Erin leaped forward. She thrusted, aiming for the visor of Kalithazar's helm. He turned his head at the last moment, but the blow still hit the helmet.
He staggered backward, probably deafened and disorientated. Erin poked yet again, at the armpit gap this time. The demon barely had the time to deflect her blow, and was pushed away once more. She kept advancing, bashing her shield on him, and tried to pierce through the gaps of the armour for the third time. Kalithazar sidestepped and slashed, but his sword only met Erin's shield.
The demon followed up with more striking and hammering with his two handed sword, but Erin arched her body backward, swiftly dodging every attack with a relative ease. A heavy strike came, she deflected with her shield and rolled right beside the demon, slashing at his leg as she got up behind him. But her sword missed the thigh and bounced back against the greave.
“That's one thick armour you have here,” she said, not sounding surprised. Even Azcheron knew a regular sword couldn't slice through steel armour. But Erin's blows were usually strong enough to dent steel, yet it remained intact.
“Do you like it ? I borrowed it from some fancy Imperial general's corpse... This war is truly a gold mine.”
Erin snorted and muttered an incantation. Her blade began to glow in a faint light.
Hardening ? Ah... Azcheron realized Erin's shield was in a rather pitiful state. A large gash was carved in it. It was now obvious that it would not provide a safe protection against the two-handed sword.
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She discarded her shield and ran toward her opponent. A horizontal slash came, she bent her body and glided on the ground. Gripped one of her daggers and slashed at the armpit as she passed by Kalithazar's right side.
He groaned, though the injury didn't seem deep enough to be fatal. Blood dripping, but not flowing as it would if an artery was cut.
“You know, maybe there was a reason that general died. Maybe he thought heavy armour made him invincible. Surely you're smarter than that ?” Erin scoffed as she played with her dagger.
Kalithazar just growled and rushed toward her. He kept swinging, using the long reach of his weapon to make up for the heaviness and slowness. Erin didn't seem to be pressured though, as she sidestepped around him while dodging or parrying.
From time to time, she'd step in closer for a second, slashing with her sword, and chipping at the fluted armour. But Kalithazar was now very wary of his weak spots, never turning his back to her and always mindful of the gaps of his attire.
In all likelihood, Erin was trying to drag the fight. A burdened Kalithazar would tire, and Erin wouldn't, since she was as light as a feather. Or so she seemed to be, without her knight armour – Azcheron had never seen her move with such speed and grace, even though she was already surprisingly agile even when she was clad in plate.
A somewhat slower blow from the demon allowed Erin to step in and circle him. She struck his leg, her glowing sword cutting through the chainmail. It must have hit something, and deep, because Erin was then covered in red. Kalithazar fell to his knees in a whimper. Azcheron could almost hear the demon gritting his teeth inside his helmet, as he planted his sword in the ground to help him rise to his feet.
Of course, Erin forbade it. Before he could stand and turn to face her, she stabbed his right armpit once more with her dagger. He jerked his arm and lunged at her, sending her flying away. But it worsened his own wound, as the dagger was still stuck under his shoulder. Erin got up in a second, rubbing her bruised jaw and wearing a confident smirk.
Because now the roles were inverted. She hammered him restlessly, pushing him closer to the crowd of spectators with each blow as he struggled to defend with one arm only. The glowing steel twisting and carving its light into the air with wide circles and high-pitched slashing noises, and the sounds and sparks of clashing steel, and the blood flowing form the demon's injuries with each movement, all that was enthralling Azcheron.
Seeing Erin drenched in blood and sweat, unleashing her brutality like that, it reminded him of the first time they met. It reminded him of how shining she was, heavily wounded yet chopping off bandits' heads with ease, in an elegant, deadly dance.
It was the same. No, perhaps there was even more beauty now. Her movements were graceful despite their monstrous violence. She wasn't fighting as some mad berserker, he understood that. Her strikes were accurate and precise.
Erin made Kalithazar retreat into the crowd of bandits, and she kept attacking. Cutting the bandits that couldn't get away in time, not caring one bit about the collateral damage. She wouldn't let something like that stop her, obviously. It could even be that she was slashing the ruffians on purpose, as a revenge of some sorts.
Drawing in his last bits of power, the demon managed one counter attack. Erin blocked and they were locked in a stalemate. Kalithazar was trying to compensate for his injuries with his tall frame and the heaviness of his armour, but Erin stood firm, for she could use both her arms. Memories of Oscar pressuring Erin in a similar contest of strength came to Azcheron.
She didn't give him the leisure to overpower her. She freed one of her hands, enduring all of her opponent' weight with one arm, grabbed her remaining dagger, and thrusted it through Kalithazar's visor. He collapsed on Erin, blood flowing from the helm, and she pushed aside the twitching demon, letting him fall loudly on the ground.
A few spasms later, the demon's body stopped moving entirely. Utter silence among the bandits, though some already showed horrified expressions. Erin crouched down and with her dagger, cut the straps of the demon's armour. Took off the tasset and the mail skirt, then got back up.
What is she doing ?
She jumped on his crotch. She jumped and kicked and jumped again, and Azcheron could hear splattering, squishing sounds. She was gritting her teeth in a grin that should rather be described as a savage grimace. She kept kicking and smashing the parts until the demon's pants were soaked in a puddle of red jam. Eventually, she stopped and took a moment to catch her breath, wiping her boots on the dead man's clothes. Then the beautiful red figure casted her gleeful golden eyes toward Azcheron.
Maybe his heart skipped a beat that time.
Indeed, you're a cruel one. When you don't kill in indifference, you enjoy it...
He looked at Erin as if there was nothing else in the world. Redness. Death. And the golden eyes he came to love so much.
...And so do I. I would not trade such a sight for anything else in the world.
In any case, he felt like an idiot for doubting her ability. It wasn't as if he didn't know of her skill. She was one of the best warrior he ever saw, and even though he hadn't met that many, she fought off Oscar. Worrying about a mere bandit hiding in the northern valleys was stupid. Or maybe that was simply proof that he cared. Of course, he'd never admit something like that, especially not to Erin herself. He found it cringe-worthy.
She came near him. “I feel better. Kept his head intact, by the way. Well, aside from the large wound on the face.”
“How thoughtful of you.” He sighed, crossed his arms and tried to sound reproachful. “That was reckless. Was there really any need for that duel ?”
Erin chuckled. “Oh, I'm the reckless one now ? Guess I have whims too.”
“One mistake and you'd have died.”
She wiped the blood from her face. “I know. I suppose I expected you to do something if it looked like I'd lose. Was I wrong ?” she asked as if she already knew the answer.
He snorted and turned toward the crowd of bandits.
“Now, listen up, dear friends. Your esteemed employer met a rather well-deserved demise, and the terms of our contract were clear. From now on, you're merchandise. That's convenient. Didn't I tell you we were merchants ?”
Of course, hearing that, a few bandits tried to attack or sneak away. Azcheron severed their heads with wind blades. That calmed the others.
“Heads, heads,” he muttered as he counted fifty-two remaining bandits – soon-to-be-heads-only – and sighed. How am I going to transport so many heads... I could make them levitate until we reach the city, but that's creepy... Ah ?
“Right, listen up, merchandise ! We're going to Atharemine ! Don't ask questions or your head will part from your body ! Any questions ?”
Satisfied of the silence, he then used mana to lift the heads he had previously cut, waving them around and making sure every bandit saw it.
Cutting fifty heads here and bringing them to Atharemine would be too tiring. Much better to have the bandits bring their own heads and do the deed once we reach the city ! Maybe I'll keep a handful alive, to use as spies or scapegoats if need be.
He turned to face Erin, who was putting her armour on. As he helped her fastening the breastplate, he looked at the golden eyes.
“Something wrong ?”
“Hmm. I know I promised you half, but I feel like you deserve more.” She tilted her head, he motioned toward the bandits. “The ignoble things with lustful smiles. You can have them all, just don't smash their heads in. My gift to you.”
“I'm touched.”
“I damn hope you are. I'm the Saint. My gifts are worth an entire kingdom.”