"Good match," blurted Garrick.

It surprised Relma that he said it, but she was not unpleased. At least Garrick was a good sport about it. Though why, when he had all but cheated before. Then again, maybe that was why he was a good sport about it.

Estela looked up in surprise. "What?"

"You have defeated me in combat," said Garrick. "Well done."

"You aren't offended?" asked Estela.

"Why should I be offended?" asked Garrick in genuine bemusement. "You made use of a legal and underhanded method to defeat me. I'm impressed.

"I would be a hypocrite to not offer you a hand as a worthy opponent." And he offered her a hand.

Estela looked at it for a moment. Then she took it. "...Good match."

William turned and walked over to where Varsus was standing. "Well, this will be our match, Varsus."

"I am interested to see how you have grown," said Varsus. "Here is to hoping I win my first actual victory in this tournament."

As they walked to the stairs, Saphra arose and quickly made up to William. In her hands was a long violet scarf. "Oh, Squire Gabriel. Take this. I rather like the idea of you wearing my colors."

William shifted. "...Thank you. But I don't feel-"

"Oh please, it would mean so very much to me," said Saphra, smiling for the first time since Relma had seen her.

William shifted. "...Very well, Saphra. I will wear it with pride." He offered his hand, and Saphra tied the scarf around him.

On Varsus and William took their places, Davian appeared to announce them. What exactly was Davian? He certainly wasn't ordinary... what was his rank anyway? He held every position at once when it suited him.

"Today, we have a battle between family!" said Davian. "On the one side, a recent victor of the Khasmir Campaign! A man who has faced the beasts of hell repeatedly and done battle with Melchious himself! I give you, William Gabriel!"

William donned his helm and came forward, eyes glimmering. His footfalls seemed like the falling of the Black Mountain behind him as his sword was drawn. The Black Sword gleamed in the sunlight, shimmering off the polished surface. His flaxen hair flowed about him alongside his crimson cloak.

It was quite a menacing figure, given that William was more or less a good person. Why did he insist on looking so terrifying? Hadn't he mentioned the armor was a gift from Rusara? Was it a Dust Elven thing? Garrick wore no such armor, so perhaps it was an Escorian Dust Elf thing. Rusara had been notable in the Escorian Civil War as a lieutenant of Arraxia.

Relma shuddered at the stories of those wars. Never in her time if she could help it. Certainly, she'd never press her claim if it meant a repeat of that. She doubted anyone would.

"In the other, a man who defeated Sir Frederick in the ring!" said Davian. "A scourge against pirates in the northern seas! I give you Varsus Gabriel!

"These two cousins will do battle with each other! And the winner is the one who moves on to represent House Gabriel in the finals!"

The two drew their swords and saluted as Relma approached Estela. Varsus looked very chivalric and heroic in his polished mail and blue cape. He flourished his blade with grace, golden hair swirling about him. William stood at the ready like an executioner.

What was Saphra up to, though? She'd been insistent on that scarf. Too insistent. Why had William listened to her? They obviously knew one another.

"So how do you think this is going to go down?" asked Relma.

"Well, they are family, so I doubt that either one will want to hurt the other," said Estela. "They'll probably drag it out until-"

And then William roared. The sound of it was like a cold north wind, and the lights in his eyes now seemed like bonfires. His black sword flashed as he rushed toward Varsus and met him in a flurry of blows. Each strike drove Varsus backward.

Versus' shield was dented in a few moments. Yet he remained steady, weathering the assault. As William roared, Varsus said nothing. Instead, he maneuvered and defended beneath the onslaught. Their blades moved faster than Relma could pick up, and Varsus smiled.

"He's fighting like Reginald was!" said Relma.

"Well, of course, he is," said Saphra.

"What do you mean, well, 'of course he is?'" asked Relma.

"That scarf is designed to drive someone into a frenzy during battle," said Saphra. "It seems to have worked wonders. I'll have to thank Rioletta!"

William's blade smashed against Varsus shield, and he warded off a counterattack. Then, bringing around his shield, he slammed Varsus' armor with the rim of it and roared again.

"Why?" asked Relma.

"Why what?" asked Saphra.

"Why did you do that?" asked Relma.

"I hold such truths to be self-evident," said Saphra. "If you need to ask why I would drive someone into a killing frenzy, you obviously don't know me very well."

The offense and defense seemed perfectly matched. As William assaulted, Varsus trapped his sword arm under his armpit. Bringing down his sword to slam it against William's helm. There was a ringing, and William lost his grip on his blade.

The boy staggered back as the crowd cheered with joy. Now Varsus had his sword pointed at a disarmed William. But William knocked the blade aside and attacked with his shield. He drove Varsus back with another roar.

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"Why did you give William something that sent him into a berserk fury?" asked Relma incredulously.

"It amused me," said Saphra.

What a bitch.

"We've got to call the fight off," said Relma.

"On what grounds?" asked Saphra. "He's strong enough will not to kill his own cousin. And it's perfectly legal. Moreover, enchanting scarves to enhance the fighting abilities of fighters is commonplace, at least among people who can do it.

"And anyway, accidents are allowed in this tournament."

Versus was driven back, and William stopped to snatch up his sword. As he did so, Varsus attacked, and their swords clashed. Their blades glinted in the sunlight as they thrust and parried. But gradually, Varsus was resuming his defensive pose.

"Did you cause any other accidents?" asked Estela.

"You wound me," laughed Saphra. "What could ever make you think that I would do such a thing?"

"Well, you just admitted to charming the scarf to send William into a blood frenzy," said Relma.

"Don't be silly. I always wear that scarf," said Saphra. "It's very helpful if I want to strangle someone. All I did was tie it around his arm, and he did accept it."

Relma turned and made her way through the stands. She got to Steward Benarus' seat and approached. "Steward Benarus, that scarf William is wearing is enchanted. It's driving him into a killing frenzy."

Benarus paused. "Did he accept the scarf willingly?"

"Well, yes," said Relma.

"Then I don't see the problem," said Benarus.

"But one of them could die," said Relma. "What if William kills Varsus?"

Another roar came from the battleground as Varsus was thrown from his feet. The older cousin rolled away as a blade sank into the earth where he had been moments ago. Cheers went louder now.

Benarus clasped his hands together and spoke in a low voice. "The Gabriels are our political enemies, my dear girl," he said in a low tone. "Removing one of them is to our benefit. And if one of them dies, the other will be discredited."

So that was it. It was all politics. The Gabriels were a threat to the Heir of Kings. So Benarus would simply look the other way. "This isn't right," said Relma.

"True," conceded Benarus. "But sometimes ruthless actions must be taken for the betterment of the land as a whole."

Relma said nothing, thinking that that attitude could extend to more than this match. She returned to the stands and saw William repeatedly bashing Varsus' shield. Soon the shield shattered, and Varsus' arm fell limp to one side. Varsus' blade clashed with William's, then there was a movement, and it was thrown from his hand.

The truth is, Relma found all respect for Benarus evaporating. He pretended to be this wonderful person who respected the prophecy. But he didn't really have any moral fiber to him. His idea of helping her was just to do whatever was in her short-term interest without considering if it was right or workable in the long term.

It was a morally bankrupt, cowardly kind of support, and Relma did not want it. Not that she could refuse it now; Benarus had not left that open to her.

William drew back his sword.

"William, control yourself!" said Varsus, scrambling away.

The cheers went louder and louder. They wanted him to kill Varsus because he had humiliated Frederick. This wasn't a contest; it was a blood sport.

Then William staggered back, hesitating. His hand fell to the scarf, but he drew it back. As he did so, Varsus drew a dagger, lunged, and hit the scarf. The blade slipped under, slashing through the cloth. It fell away, blowing in the wind.

"My scarf!" said Saphra. "That beast! How dare he damage my property!"

William brought down his shield and smashed Varsus into the ground. Raising his sword, his eyes gleamed. Then he hesitated before staggering backward. Finally, the light in his eyes faded, and he relaxed. Stepping back, he fell to one knee, breathing heavily.

"Forgive me, Varsus. I... I don't know what..."

Versus rose unsteadily. "No harm is done. It's only a broken arm. Just flesh and blood. You've certainly learned your lessons with the sword well." He offered his good hand.

Only a broken arm? If Relma were in his position, she'd scream her lungs out. How was Varsus so composed?

William took the hand. Versus helped him up, then spoke. "I concede the match."

"Varsus has conceded the match!" said Davian. "Sir William is victorious!"

So it was more or less over. Which left only one unanswered question, despite her best efforts.

Relma looked at Saphra. "How could this amuse you?"

"I couldn't bear to watch another fight where both sides defend for three hours. And judging from how the tournament has played out so far, it would end in an anticlimax," said Saphra. "Instead, we got an aggressive berserker attacking a defense specialist.

"The contrast made for great entertainment.

"And the purpose of this tournament is entertainment. So Frederick and Varsus were a bore. And Reginald against Fayn had no actual resolution. And every single one of Garrick's matches ended with someone borderline cheating.

"Really, I'm doing everyone a favor."

William and Varsus didn't immediately return. They seemed to be speaking quietly, and Relma couldn't hear it. There seemed to be several boos coming from the crowd. Whoever was making them was absolute beasts.

Fayn approached from some ways away.

"I've been meaning to ask you, Baroness. Reginald can't be that much younger than you-"

"He's older," said Saphra.

Fayn blinked. "What? But then, how are you, his Aunt?"

"My parents didn't stop having children for a very long time," said Saphra. "I grew up looking up to my nieces and nephews."

"So, was there some kind of purge?" asked Fayn.

"Something to that effect, yes," said Saphra. "House De Chevlon has a high turnover rate."

Turnover rate? As if her family was a place of employment. This lady was sick.

"What does that even mean?" asked Fayn.

"It means we die young. A lot," said Saphra.

"So how does this Raynald everyone keeps mentioning fit into everything?" asked Fayn.

"Oh, he is my uncle," said Saphra.

"Then shouldn't he be in charge?" asked Fayn.

Saphra shrugged. "He occupies a gray area. Somewhere between being an upstanding member of the family and being disinherited. They actually left him for the wolves when he was a baby."

"Why?" asked Relma in horror. What was wrong with this family?

"A nursemaid accidentally injured one of his arms when he was a baby," said Saphra. "The wound couldn't be healed, so they left him to die on a mountaintop. Then the wolves brought him back to us.

"Probably for the best. He did turn out to be one of the best war leaders in Harlenor."

"Your family is sick," said Relma.

"I prefer to think of us as extraordinarily normal," said Saphra.

Then William threw aside his shield. What was going on here?

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Davian. "William and Varsus are requesting that the match be refought. William claims that he was affected by a spell."

There were murmurs. Then Steward Benarus came forward. "I will grant this if Sir William wishes to put his victory at risk."

And so the swordplay began again. This time William and Varsus fought against one another equally. They thrust and parried, clashing again and again. Yet William was stronger, and Varsus had no shield. Little by little, Varsus was forced to yield ground.

Varsus reached the edge of the ring, then dodged to one side and struck William on the side. The blow glanced off his pauldron, and William brought his blade around. Varsus caught it on the flat of his own sword.

Relma thought she saw a flash of fire, and Varsus' sword shattered. The blow fell on his shoulder, and Varsus fell to the ground.

"How is he so strong?" asked Fayn.

"I'm told William has a special bloodline," said Saphra. "Something about a continent ruled by warrior women. I don't really care." She didn't care about much, did she? "What is important is that I must enchant an entirely new scarf! Honestly, these knights look very fine, but they're completely inconsiderate!

"They haven't considered how inconvenient it is for me when they break my spells!"

"If Varsus hadn't cut that cloth, he might be dead," said Fayn.

"And there would be one fewer person in the world," said Saphra. "People are an unlimited resource. More are being made all the time, and they take up a lot of resources to maintain. "Magical artifacts are not."

"Glad you have your priorities straight," said Fayn with clear sarcasm.

"You're an absolutely sick person, you know that, don't you?" asked Relma. "Even for a De Chevlon."

"On the contrary," said Saphra, "I've never been ill a day."

Relma didn't like being vindictive. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't happy the scarf got ripped, though. And she was happier they'd refought the duel.

This way, Saphra couldn't claim any credit for the victory. Nevertheless, it was a small satisfaction.