William and Varsus returned to the stand to cheer crowds. As they did, Varsus looked pained and fell to one knee on the stairs. William kneeled and helped him up. He probably meant it kindly, but his armor made his concern look threatening.

"Varsus, are you alright?" asked William. The rasping voice made his question seem mocking and sarcastic.

"Yes," said Varsus. "You've advanced in skill since last we met. I remember you used to hate sword practice." He smiled for the first time since Relma had seen him.

"I still do," admitted William. "I just work at it anyway." He approached Saphra somewhat coldly. Relma half expected him to strike her, but he did nothing. He merely nodded in apology as Saphra arose to meet him. "I fear that the enchantments on your scarf were broken, milady."

Wait, so was he going to pretend as though she hadn't done anything wrong? Why did he act this way with Saphra but treat Estela with open contempt?

Saphra took the scarf and looked over its broken halves. "Hmm, I suppose I'll have to fix this up. But, first, I'll have to pray to Rioletta for help."

"Rioletta?" asked Relma in surprise.

"The Goddess of Weaving," said Saphra. "Queen of Fate and, if you believe the legends, Dark Elves. She gave mortal races stitches and threads. So you must go to her whenever you enchant anything made by threads.

"And she always asks a price. Some prices are easy to fulfill. Some are hard."

"I thought she was the Goddess of Spiders," said Relma.

"No, spiders are merely her symbol," said Saphra.

"But what do spiders have to do with weaving?" asked Relma.

There was dead silence. Saphra looked at her flatly. Relma shifted and had the feeling she had said something ridiculous. Spiders wove webs. "Oh, right, that was a foolish question."

"May I ask why you didn't tell me the nature of that scarf?" asked William.

"For my own amusement, of course," said Saphra. "And to force the match to be interesting. Also, when I made the scarf, the price was that I gave it to the first person in skull armor I ran into. "Meaning that all my labor was more or less for nothing. Thank you very much, Varsus."

"I make no apology," said Varsus. "Your enchantment nearly killed me."

"I'm terribly sorry about that," said Saphra. "But breaking a contract with Rioletta is never a good idea. She tends to be... vindictive."

"Why would Rioletta demand something like that?" asked William.

"Aside from her own amusement?" asked Saphra. "Rioletta tends to the threads of fate. She can predict futures, which is a direct match for even Laevian.

"She probably believed that me giving this scarf to you at this point would result in a chain of events. One that would turn to her benefit."

"You might have told me about the nature of the scarf," said William.

"Your right," said Saphra. "I might have."

William opened his mouth. But then Davian spoke out. "Attention!

"Steward Benarus has commanded that the next match will occur tomorrow at noon."

Relma remembered that she was going to have to fight Fayn. And that whoever won, someone she knew, would end up hanging. So now she had another day. She sighed in relief. "Thank Elranor. Where has Aunt Pan been during all of this anyway?"

"I believe she was tending to some of the wounded from the smaller tournaments," said William. "There was an accident."

True to William's words, Relma found Aunt Pan healing the sick in one of the pavilions. She was channeling energy into a rune that emanated a soothing light. Relma had seen her do this before. However, she had a different technique from William.

William put his hands on them and healed their wounds. In contrast, Aunt Pan's runes worked more slowly. The patients were bandaged, and the smell of herbs was in the air. Aunt Pan looked up. "Relma, there you are. I'm sorry I haven't been there more often; people tend to get injured at these sorts of tourneys?"

"What happened to them?" asked Relma. Most of the wounded were dwarves.

"Reginald won the axe throwing tournament," said Aunt Pan. "These fellows took offense. There was a fight, and many of them ended up injured.

"All of them should live."

"And where is Reginald now?" asked Relma.

"Drinking, I believe," said Aunt Pan. "He used some of his winnings to purchase Sir Hawkthorne's release from prison."

Relma paused. "Right. What am I going to do, Aunt Pan?"

"About what?" asked Aunt Pan.

Did she not know? Had no one told her? "It's Steward Benarus. He... he's planning to make my fight with Fayn a duel of honor."

"What are you talking about?" asked Pan.

"I... remember the poisoning before?" asked Relma. "And Fayn getting set on fire? Well, some people said that Ronald did both to rig things in my favor.

"Anyway, I panicked and said that Fayn probably did it. Poisoned Frederick and then set herself on fire to cover her tracks."

"That seems unlikely, dear," said Aunt Pan.

"And that's what makes it the perfect cover," said Relma. "It would be just like Fayn to do it. Anyway, Benarus said that our fight in the tournament would determine who was guilty."

"This sounds like nothing more than hearsay," said Aunt Pan. "There hasn't been time for a proper investigation. So what is Benarus thinking?"

"I think he just wants to get the matter over with so it doesn't distract from the tournament," said Relma. "But... but he said he'd hang the one responsible!"

Aunt Pan went still. "I see.

"This isn't about justice. It's about resolving the succession."

"What do you mean?" asked Relma.

"Fayn's parents died when she was very young. Benarus despised both of them for association with House De Chevlon," said Aunt Pan. "She was largely raised by servants. She's also an only child. So if Benarus were to hang her, there would be no one to seek revenge."

"But if he hung Ronald, it would alienate Lord Fulsof," said Relma.

"Of course, it would," said Aunt Pan. "But Benarus is impulsive. He probably thinks you're destined to win this tournament. So assumed you'll be victorious."

"Can you talk to him? Convince him to call this off," asked Relma.

"I could," admitted Aunt Pan. "Unfortunately, the method he chose is legal. The winner of a duel of honor is traditionally indicated by the gods. I've always disliked the process myself, but it is still legal.

"Changing it now would take a long time."

"So what do we do?" asked Relma. You could get him to reduce the sentence. I don't want Fayn or Ronald to hang."

"I can't do that, Relma," said Aunt Pan. "You have to understand something. Whenever Father and I get involved in politics, it's a disaster waiting to happen. But, we have a... privilege of sorts that allows us to bypass the system.

"But every time we use it discredits the system. And it causes the nobility to resent us for throwing the law back in their face."

"So either Ronald or Fayn will have to hang?" asked Relma.

"Of course not," said Aunt Pan. "We'll just have to use a more... indirect interference method."

Relma paused. "What do you mean?"

"Benarus chose to end this situation in a duel of honor because of narrative," said Aunt Pan, rising from her seat. "People are watching the tournament of kings. Unfortunately, they've seen several dramatic acts of cheating so far.

"There is now a story. And we are characters. You want to resolve all the major plot threads when telling a story. Either before or during the moment of maximum crisis."

"What?" said Relma.

"A final fight to the finish is much more dramatic than a six-month investigation. It would be over long after everyone has gone home," said Aunt Pan. "The hanging provides the stakes.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

"It also means Benarus can return to business as usual much more quickly."

"What does any of this have to do with saving Ronald?" asked Relma.

"Everything," said Aunt Pan. "Benarus wants a satisfactory resolution to this story. Something the audience will like. Right now, there are two possibilities. The scheming Fayn is hung for her crimes, or Ronald dies in a tragic act of impulsiveness. Either will satisfy an audience.

"What we need to do is shift the narrative. And we must do it so that Benarus cannot kill either of you without making himself the villain."

"So how do we do that?" asked Relma.

Aunt Pan smiled. "This will be a somewhat complicated matter."

And then there was a knock on the door.

"Pandora!" said a voice.

Aunt Pan moved to the door and opened it. Benarus was standing before the door, his hair a mess. He was clad in the mail.

"What is it, Steward?" asked Aunt Pan.

"It's Frederick!" said Benarus.

"What about him?" asked Pandora.

"He's taken Ronald and made a run for it!" said Benarus. "He beat down dozens of men on his way out!"

"But wasn't he walking on crutches?" asked Relma.

"He... he recovered suddenly! And the wolf demon helped him!" said Benarus. "The guards didn't dare try to stop them! They've already escaped!"

"Where is he heading?" asked Pandora, and Relma thought she saw a flash of satisfaction on her face.

"The Wolven Forest," said Benarus. "We sent out the trackers, but we found them all tied up on the border with Ajax sitting by them. By now he's in Telix's territory.

"I need your advice."

Pandora paused. "There is nothing we can do. Telix is master of his own domain, and unless he sends Frederick back, we cannot force the issue."

Benarus shifted. "...What am I supposed to do now? The duel of honor takes place tomorrow."

Something clicked. Relma felt that what she said and did now would have enormous consequences. "I'll take his place," said Relma.

"What?" They both said.

"If the battle goes badly tomorrow and I lose, then I'll hang instead of Ronald," said Relma.

"Relma, you cannot be serious!" said Aunt Pan.

"You're the Heir of Kings," said Benarus. "You cannot throw your life away like this."

"And that somehow makes me better than other people?" asked Relma. "It is a duel of honor. And if I wasn't willing to back up Ronald's innocence with my life, I wouldn't be a very good person if you did this?"

Aunt Pan shifted. "Relma, I can't protect you if you do this."

"Oh, come on, Aunt Pan. We both know I never listen to you on these things," said Relma, smiling.

Benarus and Aunt Pan looked at each other, then back. "...So be it."

The next day had come far too soon. It seemed like the blink of an eye to Relma. She immediately went to the tournament ground with the remaining contestants. But, instead, she sat in the chapel of Elranor, as was the tradition. Fayn was nowhere to be found.

Before a duel of honor, it was a tradition that contestants sit in a prayer room. Here they would contact Elranor, who would determine the winner. For her part, Relma wasn't feeling up to it.

She sat on the bench, clad in armor, her sword across her knees. And waited. Either she or Fayn would die today. If Relma one, Fayn would be killed. If Fayn won, Relma would be killed. And all this was so Benarus didn't have to deal with a full investigation.

It was so stupid.

Eventually, the door opened, and one of the monks came forward. Relma looked up and sheathed her sword as he approached. "Lady Raleen, it is time. Are you prepared to face Elranor's judgment?"

"As prepared as ever," said Relma.

The Heaven's Eye was truly beautiful. When one looked at it directly, it seemed pure white. The light emanating from it was brighter than the sun, yet it did not hurt the eyes. So it stood, heavily guarded by armored knights in shining mail.

The white light shone upon their armor, gleaming off in rainbow colors. And as Relma was beneath its gaze into the ring, she felt an undeniable sense of peace. Across from her, Fayn paced restlessly, spinning her poleaxe.

Davian came forward and seemed, somehow, less real than before. There was a tense air in the crowd as they waited for the blood sport to begin. "Men and women of Harlenor! Warriors and commoners! Militiamen and nobles! Today we have not just a match between two knights but a duel of honor!" said Davian.

Cheers broke out en masse. The people were entertained. "Assassination attempts on the two competitors have narrowed down the odds! From many to only two! In one corner, a young girl seeking to prove herself! She has accused the young squire Ronald of poisoning his master and setting her alight!

"Come to defend her honor, I give you, Lady Fayn!"

Davian seemed to enjoy himself as Fayn flourished her axe. Boos came from the crowd, as well as cheers. Relma supposed she should be glad they were in favor of her. But it didn't really matter, did it?

"And in the other, a young knight from a previously unknown family, come to defend the honor of a friend," said Davian. "Lady Raleen has come to stand as champion on behalf of her accused friend! But, more than that, she has promised that she will take his place if he should not be found before the appointed hour!

"Yet she has done more than that! She has accused Lady Fayn of the very same crime! So now these two will fight with one another in single combat beneath the gaze of the Heaven's Eye! The victor will go on to the final rounds of the tournament! And the loser will be hung by the neck until dead!

"Come forth!"

Relma emerged, and there was much cheering. Frederick was popular, so the one taking his side was cheered on. None of these people knew anything; they didn't want to know anything. But Relma meant to give them no choice. She had her own plans.

Fayn flourished her poleax with practiced skill, and flames flared around it. Finally, she took a stance. "You're a dead woman, Raleen. I've been training in using weapons since I was a child."

"Well, yes, but I'm chosen by destiny," said Relma, taking a stance of her own. "So clearly, I'll figure out how to defeat you on the fly." It had yet to do her any good against Ajax.

"Was that meant as sarcasm?" asked Fayn, curious.

"You tell me," said Relma.

And then Fayn surged forward, slashing with her poleaxe in the air. A flame whip emerged from it, and Relma scarcely ducked under it. Again it cracked at her feet, and she was forced to dodge and weave. Fayn attacked again and again with greater fury.

Relma slipped past the whip and charged, but Fayn weaved out of the way of her slash. The dark-armored girl brought around her axe, and Relma caught it on the shield. The heat and force of it were immense, and Relma was thrown off her feet.

Looking up, she saw Fayn bringing down the axe toward her chest. Relma caught it on her shield and trapped the axe with her sword. Then, pulling it back, she lashed out with a boot and hit Fayn in the chest.

Fayn lost her grip on the axe, and Relma stood up.

Before she could so much as hand the axe back, however, Fayn summoned flames in her hand and hurled them. Relma dodged, the heat on her face as she did, losing her grip on the poleaxe. Even as it fell, Fayn caught it. Then she was on Relma with an onslaught of blows.

Relma defended and tried to think as she did. Fayn was obviously better than her. Better by a long shot. A blow from Fayn's axe glanced off her pauldron, and she felt a scalding heat on her skin.

Relma pushed away from the axe blade with her sword, only for Fayn to bring the end around to strike her across the face. Relma fell flat as the crowd booed. Her helmet came off.

Why was everyone against Fayn anyway? This couldn't just be about Frederick, could it?

She got to her knee and was kicked in the gut by an armored boot. Then, a foot was planted down on her chest. Fayn raised her axe.

She was going to kill her.

Did it matter? Was that legal?

Neither mattered if Relma wasn't alive to find out. Relma bashed Fayn in the leg with her shield, and the girl lost her balance. Throwing her off, Relma leaped onto her and drew out a dagger. Her hand was caught, and they wrestled on the ground, struggling against one another. And then Fayn bashed her head against Relma's.

Relma reeled back, pain surging through her. She scrambled back on reflex as Fayn stood, wearing her helmet still. Blood dripped over Relma's head as the black knight approached. Flames were rising over her armor.

Fayn charged.

Then her hand fell over her helmet. Relma threw it. It caught Fayn right in the face, sending her to one knee. Relma wiped the blood from her face and ran for her sword. Even as she grasped it, she saw a flash from the corner of her eye. Relma dropped to one knee and felt flames shoot over her head. Sweat and blood mingled as she saw Fayn coming at her, the axe falling.

Relma caught the axe on the flat of her blade. There was a flash, and lightning appeared between her edge and Fayn's. The axe shattered before their eyes, and Fayn fell to her knees. And the sword in Relma's hand flared to brilliant life. It radiated brighter and brighter like the light from the clouds.

Fayn clutched her hand and fell to her knees, gasping.

The crowd was awed. And then Relma realized what had happened.

"What..." gasped Fayn.

"The sword... this cannot be!" said Davian, who knew the truth, didn't he? "Lady Raleen holds Lightning Trail! Through this, she is marked as the Heir of Kings!"

Relma raised her sword. "My name is Relma Artorious. And I will not allow anyone to be hung for my sake."

"Steward Benarus!" said Fayn desperately. "Raleen, or should I say Relma, has clearly entered the tournament under a fake name. As a result, she should be disqualified, according to the rules of this tournament."

There was dead silence and apparent boos. Benarus raised a hand. "This isn't just a tournament, however. It is also a duel of honor. Is there any honor in a technicality?"

"More than you think, old man," snapped Fayn.

There was silence. Benarus spoke with the others. Davian walked forward. "Steward Benarus is conferring with his advisors."

"Get the fool, Ronald," hissed Fayn. "We should have him ready for the noose."

Hadn't anyone heard? Or had it been kept secret? Why would they keep it secret?

"I have grim news," blurted Benarus. "Squire Ronald is nowhere to be found. He and Sir Frederick have disappeared. They were last seen fleeing into the Wolven Forest. Without him present it seems that the Heir of Kings will hang if she is disqualified."

"Everyone dies eventually." scoffed Fayn, drawing a dagger. "Though I do not think it my fate to die today." She spun the blade around and took a stance.

There was a moment more deliberation. Relma already knew what was going to happen here. Davian moved to speak with Benarus. Then he turned to them. "Steward Benarus has dictated that the Heir of Kings will not be disqualified," said Davian. "She has already proven herself worthy of her title and therefore is eligible."

"So, she is above the law because of her blood," scoffed Fayn.

"The Heir of Kings-" began Davian,

"Is a girl my age!" snarled Fayn. "No more worthy to reign than any other. Should not the King be subject to his own laws? Why shouldn't an heir of one be subject as well?

"To allow this is a betrayal of the principles that Anoa II laid out! The rule of law over the rule of man!"

"Are you a knight?" asked Relma.

"Yes!" snarled Fayn. "I paid someone to knight me in preparation for this tournament! So I technically qualify! Which is more than can be said for you!"

Good answer. "I'm not sure it's supposed to work that way," said Relma.

"The decision stands," said Benarus.

"Fine then!" snarled Fayn. "I'll kill her myself then!"

A whim of flame emerged from her dagger, and she slashed it at Relma. Relma met the whip with Lightning Trail. Light flashed, and the whip recoiled, but Fayn was already coming at her with the knife. Relma caught the hand by the wrist. But Fayn slashed at her wrist with it before punching her in the face.

Relma rolled with the strike and hit the ground. As she fell, Fayn leaped onto her. Her dagger stabbed down, but it snapped at the hilt as it hit the breastplate. Then, reaching forward with his hands, she gripped Relma by the throat.

Relma tried to dislodge her as her throat was constricted. Fayn was smiling through her helm. "I'm going to enjoy watching you choke, Relma."

She couldn't get her off. Then Relma's eye fell on a shard of Fayn's axe. Grasping it, she drew it and stabbed it between Fayn's armpit. The girl screamed, and Relma, at last, threw her off. Snatching up Lightning Trail, Relma got to one knee and brought it down.

She barely stopped herself from finishing the movement.

She had almost killed Fayn. Kill a sentient, thinking person. Ended their life. Fayn had tried to kill her, but that wouldn't have made it right.

Cheers were echoed throughout the tournament. Higher and higher. This was what she had wanted, wasn't it? Just a few rounds early. This was what they wanted. But it wasn't right.

"...Do me a favor; cut my throat before the noose," said Fayn.

Relma breathed. "I said no one will hang on my account." She drew off her sword and turned to walk away. "I meant it.

"I forfeit."

"What?!" said Davian.

"I said, I forfeit. Hang me if you want," said Relma. "The fight is over."

She should have been disqualified in the first place.