They arrived at the crack of noon the day after tragedy struck, irate and seeking blood. He could only guess as to what had occurred, locked in his room, but he guessed that it had to do with the tremendous sound that shook the very walls of the building.

Aerin’s doing, he knew without having to see a thing. Had to have been. It had happened minutes after he received the message of Elric’s death.

As the group of knights filtered into the room, each one clad in full, decorative armor, Alden’s blood began to boil. They were not the only ones seeking blood this day.

“Up,” Wardric said. Alden rose and stretched slowly. “Be quick about it.”

Alden gave the majordomo a mocking grin, then did as he was bid. He did not trust that they would not simply kill him where he stood.

They had decided upon the manor’s inner courtyard for their battle. A simple space of white stone, the area was roofless, granting a remarkable sight of the cloudless sky above. At its edges was an artificial stream of crystal clear water, an array of pink water borne flowers resting neatly on the surface.

What drew Alden’s eyes the most, however, was the center of the courtyard.

Over fifty men and women sat in a circle of tables. Dressed in fine silks and adorned with jewelry of silver and gold, they dined on a multitude of fragrant dishes that set his stomach to rumbling with jealousy.

They left him at the center for all to see, appraising eyes peeling him away layer by layer.

If there were ever a place that Alden did not feel welcomed, it was here amongst the merchants of Coalben. He stood awkwardly before them and waited in silence, feeling out of place, his stomach twisting into a giant anxious knot as thoughts of violence raced through his mind.

The merchants that met his gaze sported warm, welcoming smiles, the kind that could pull you in with promises of good times and friendship. Dastardly smiles, filled with lies and almost impossible to detect if not for the dread of his current situation. It was no wonder that their Charisma averaged over 100.

They were not alone in their lying smiles. Called over to the table of a particularly fat merchant, Wardric’s rage melted away entirely and was replaced with a veneer of pleasantness.

“It is good to see you, Berwyn,” Wardric said. The fat merchant stood and shook his hand with overzealous vigor.

“Oh, very good, Wardric, very good indeed. How is the Duke of late? Well, I hope. Will he be attending, perchance?”

Wardric shook his head. “He is well, fear not, but he has decided to remain in his manor in Greenpool. You know how his lungs afflict him so.”

“Certainly, oh, certainly, I understand. The air of Coalben has never been kind to its people. A shame he could not attend, truly. I have a feeling it will be an, ah, entertaining event, yes?”

Wardric’s smile broadened, tinged with a sadistic expectation. “Of course, Berwyn. Why else bring you all here?”

“That is wonderful news! I’m certain the betting pool will flourish with such confidence. A sure thing this time around as well, I take it?”

“Is it ever any different?”

“Hah! Isn’t that the truth, sir? Still, some are certain to entertain the possibility of an upset, as is usual for them. More the sucker them, I say.”

Wardric chuckled, nodding. “As do I.”

The far door, opposite the one from which Alden had arrived, swung open with a low creak, revealing behind its dark brown wood a portly man with gray hair. Silence fell over the room as time itself seemed to stop, and every man and woman glanced the man’s way.

Even in a room filled with some of the richest merchants in all Coalben the man stood apart. His emerald doublet sparkled in the light as if made of the jewel itself, accented by a deep yellow at the side that, at first look, appeared to be golden thread. Yet it was not his clothing that differentiated him from the rest; there was an unmistakable shift in attention at his arrival, a sudden submissive quietness that filled the air, the other merchants too afraid to speak for fear of upsetting the man.

“It seems our final guest has arrived,” Wardric said, smiling broadly.

As the man grew closer to the circle of tables, Alden could not help but feel a disquieting familiarity regarding the man. Then, seeing a golden thread dancing listlessly in the air, one end connected to the emerald dressed merchant and the other to himself, he recognized the man.

He had seen barely a glimpse of him before, just before his arrest days ago, but the image was clear in his mind now.

“Alcuin,” Wardric said as he approached. “I had wondered if you would be attending this time.”

Alcuin smiled, his cheeks flushing a brilliant red against the gray of his thick mustache. “I had not initially intended to, in truth, but one of our stallions was injured on its way to Coalben I’m told, leaving me with quite the open schedule at the moment.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Wardric said, “but I think you’ll find that today’s event will prove to be an interesting one.”

“Oh, I do hope so.”

The merchant’s eyes met Alden’s and the man grinned pleasantly. Alden could not help but return a brief smile. It felt warmer than the others, more friendly somehow, as if the merchant cared about him, despite knowing nothing about him.

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

His eyes went wide when he viewed the man’s Stats and saw that his Charisma sat at a dizzying 174.

As Alcuin took his seat, Wardric entered the ring and turned to face the merchants. Throwing his arms wide, he bowed, stood upright once more, then said “Esteemed members of Coalben, let us begin.”

Their gazes descended upon Alden one by one, rapt in their mental dissections of his being. He shivered, but remained still. Then, one by one, the eyes fixated themselves on Wardric, who seemed more and more pleased as the events unfolded.

“Here standing before us,” he began, “is a man accused of treachery against the Empire. We do not know his true name. What we do know is that the accused presented himself before Coalben’s guards some days ago, presenting himself to be a soldier by the name of Alden of Addens in the employ of Baroness Sylvana, here on official matters and with official documentation from the Baroness’s Commander Dhatri.

“It is not the documentation that has been called into question, esteemed members of Coalben. The documentation is, by all accounts, legitimate. However, the name ‘Alden of Addens’ belongs to no mere soldier, but a knight, whose records of knighthood have been entered into the Book of Valor. Records which show that the knight with the name ‘Alden of Addens’ possesses but one arm, not two, having lost his left arm in battle against the Hilvan insurrectionists.

“Those of you with unclouded vision can see that the man standing before us does not have one arm, as we know Alden of Addens to have, but is instead blessed with two. A miracle of the Gods, perhaps. More likely that the man standing before us is but a liar, having stolen from the knight Alden, or else having slain him in some manner. A besmirchment on his title of knight, in either case. But being unworthy of the title does not grant common criminals the right to steal from a knight, nor kill him, nor impersonate him.

“And so we come to today. The accused has, as is his right, chosen to undergo a trial by combat. Thus we pray.”

“Thus we pray,” all in the room replied.

“O Azphine, glorious be thy name, may we honor you with our endeavors, and may your power bring triumph to he who is righteous.”

A short prayer, one he did not partake in. These were not his Gods, even if they were real. He didn’t know that they were, but the idea could not be dismissed out of hand. His power had to have come from somewhere. A god was a likely candidate.

When the prayers settled Wardric approached him and motioned toward the line of knights that had gathered. Each of them was the very image of a warrior; standing in immaculate armor, their very presence created a pressure that bombarded Alden’s courage. Each of them was near as strong as Amice, at the least.

“You will be given a choice of opponent among any of the knights standing before you, including myself,” Wardric said.

It was no choice at all. Wardric was the strongest among them, and as much as it would please him to kill the majordomo, Alden did not have the confidence to do so.

He did not have the confidence to face any of them, in truth, but back against the wall he chose the only option that made sense.

“Him,” he said, pointing to the youngest knight among them. A young man, compared to the rest, and younger than Alden by a few years, he was also the weakest of them.

The young man smiled slyly, then approached.

“Aethelwulf, eh? A natural, that boy. You’ll not find him an easy opponent, if that was your hope,” Wardric said.

Easy or not, he was the easiest, Alden thought.

Wardric handed him a sword. “No armor,” Alden asked. The majordomo merely smiled and turned away.

The knights encircled the ring as Wardric left, each of them planting the tips of their swords, still in their scabbards, on the ground. Light emanated from each of them and the air buzzed with a strange prickling sensation. Magic. They were creating a barrier.

“Begin,” Wardric said.

Aethelwulf attacked first with a heavy overhand cut, slow and easy to spot, easy to dodge. Alden moved to the side and created space between them, too afraid to block or parry. The boy knight had a far greater Agility Stat, could end it all in an instant. The fact that he did not meant he intended to toy with him.

Alden certainly hoped so.

He came again, this time with a sideways stroke from the left. Alden dodged again, took a step back, felt the invisible barrier pushing against him like a wall. He jumped and rolled to the side, moving away from his opponent, yet when he stood he saw sharp steel closing in in a flurry, each stroke faster than the last.

Magic shot out from Alden’s hand and struck the boy’s armor. The force pushed him back, his feet sliding across the floor. A dent had formed in the boy’s armor the size of a fist, and he looked down at it aghast. When his face rose Alden saw that it was full of anger and injured pride, and the boy attacked again.

Fire, lightning, wind, ice, Alden launched every magical element he could think of at the knight to no avail. The knight was too fast by half for him, and every spell saw him becoming a blur of steel as he avoided it.

Forming another bolt of magic, Alden released it towards his opponent and watched again as he disappeared into a blur. Pain racked his body, his vision blurred by a mix of blue and white. The sky. The knight had struck him onto his back.

Alden stood and looked around in a daze, finding no trace of the knight. And then the knight was before him, smiling darkly down at him. The knight flicked his blade upward and Alden felt an all too familiar searing pain.

His left hand hit the ground, its end leaking blood.

“Now you resemble Alden of Addens, don’t you think?” Aethelwulf said.

With his other hand he grabbed Alden by the throat and lifted him from the ground. Alden kicked uselessly at the knight, dropping his sword as he pried at the steel-like fingers squeezing against his flesh.

He could feel his consciousness begin to slip away as Aethelwulf tightened his grip. It would have to be now. The moment he was waiting for.

He lashed out with his right hand, grasping the Aethelwulf by the throat and squeezing tight, all too aware that he did not have the strength to harm the boy. It didn’t matter. It was enough.

With a silent scream he channeled the magic within him, felt flesh and bone twist and move.

The sound of screeching metal was followed by the quiet dripping of blood. The room was struck with silent awe as they examined what had occurred, watched as the spear of bone that had gone through Aethelwulf’s throat retracted back into Alden’s hand.

The boy stared blankly at him, a stream of blood flowing from his mouth. His grip on Alden weakened, and the boy fell to the ground, dead.

Victory

Through novel use of magic you have achieved Victory!

Reward: 25,000xp, 10 bonus points to Intelligence, 10 bonus points to Wisdom, 10 bonus points to Luck.

Quest Completed

Trial By Combat (Tier 1)

Reward: 5,000xp, 10 bonus points to Strength, the Sword of Knightly Perseverance.

Level Up

Reward: 5 Stat Points.