The gathered crowd roared in excitement as Lord Kellian’s powerful swing was stopped dead by Arvel’s shining blade. Kellian, however, stared in shock at the gleaming sword. Arvel could tell right away that he knew what the sword was reacting to. But when Kellian’s eyes darted away to scan the crowd, Arvel turned his shoulder to push Kellian’s weight aside, breaking their lockup and forcing the larger man to find his footing again.

Meanwhile, from the sidelines, Frederik was panicking. Trying to keep his voice to a whisper, he stammered, “Wh-What in the world are you doing here? Are you trying to cause problems?”

“Me?” Melodia asked, tucking her hood down a little more over her face, peering out from under the shade to watch the duel, “I’m just here as an observer. I felt certain the guards would all be quite distracted.”

“That isn’t working out very well as you can clearly see,” Frederik replied.

“Mnhh, I hadn’t thought about that,” she muttered, watching that glowing blade, “Well, at least Lord Kellian remains preoccupied. And you’re not going to make a scene, are you, dear?”

Frederik grumbled and returned his attention to the fight, his shaky hand resuming its notations, tense from the feeling of knowing a demoness was right over his shoulder all the while.

Again, Kellian and Arvel clashed, with enough force for sparks to fly from their blades, and a great cheer of excitement rose up from the onlookers.

“Your father’s blade is shining,” Lord Kellian said as he bore his weight down on Arvel, “You know what that means, don’t you?”

Arvel grinned and replied, “It means you’re getting distracted.”

With a quick turn, Arvel slid their blades apart and shoulder-checked Kellian in the stomach, sending the larger man stumbling backwards and giving Arvel space to catch his breath and his footing.

“That blade sings a dirge in the presence of demons,” Kellian said, “They walk among your people and you have no concern at all?”

“This settlement is built on blood-soaked soil,” Arvel said, “It’s been defended from demon attacks over ‘n over. Its soldiers ‘n settlers have died to demons and they’ve given back their pains thrice over. Y’can’t get away from demons here. But that’s why this settlement is so damn important... To prove we won’t let somethin’ like that drive us off our land.”

Kellian clenched his teeth and said, “You’re a damned fool. Demons are not like floods or tornadoes... They’re not an act of nature that you must simply learn to deal with. There is no ‘good enough’. They’re a plague upon our land that must be eradicated.”

“That’s the problem with folk like you,” Arvel said, shaking his head, “You ain’t never lived among the people. Ain’t never lived by ‘just getting by’. You’d torch a whole field because you found one infected stalk ‘n not give a damn how many people starved over the winter.”

Lord Kellian charged with a roar, swinging his heavy blade at Arvel’s side. Arvel lifted his sword to block the wide arc, and the force sent him skidding in the gravel, leaving two wide tracks in the dirt behind his feet.

“I have committed my life to the protection of our people!” Kellian shouted, “And you would argue that I’ve overreached?!”

“Eventually, you gotta stop cuttin’ to see what’s still left,” Arvel said, grimacing as his muscles strained, “How many soldiers’ve you marched to their deaths ‘cause you had to attack before the demons could?”

“I regret none of it!” Kellian replied, drawing his blade back to swing again.

This time, the strike was enough to knock Arvel off his feet, stumbling backwards, and Kellian gave him no time to pause. The lord thrust his sword forward in a stab at Arvel’s gut, narrowly missing him, ripping open the side of his shirt.

“That’s the problem,” Arvel said, grimacing.

Arvel swung his gleaming sword, not at Lord Kellian, but down at his overextended blade, knocking it downward. When the steel scraped the gravel, Arvel put his boot on the flat of the blade to keep it down, rearing back for a mighty swing. Kellian slumped forward as his sword was pushed down beneath Arvel’s weight, and when he looked up, his eyes widened at the sight of the incoming strike.

The blade cut through the air with a sharp whistle, akin to the flight of an arrow. But at the last instant, Arvel twisted his wrist, and turned the sword. The flat of the blade struck Lord Kellian across the jaw with a resounding crack. It felt like all of the air was sucked from the street as the onlookers gasped, expecting to see Lord Kellian’s head roll off his shoulders, but instead, the imposing man slumped to the ground on his side like a sack of potatoes, leaving his sword to clatter to the ground beneath Arvel’s foot.

Kellian wasn’t knocked unconscious. He was, as Arvel would have described it, ‘knocked loopy’. Though his wits left him, he had enough instinct driving him to tell him to get back up, but as he sat up, he found a shining sword pointed at his throat.

“Yer disarmed,” Arvel said, “This is me a sparin’ yer life, as long as you’re willin’ t’accept defeat.”

Kellian stared blankly at Arvel for a moment, before the pangs of reality seeped through the haze. He closed his eyes firmly, and bowed his head, replying, “You are the victor this day. I yield.”

The soldiers were silent, but the settlers made enough noise to make up for it, as shouts and cheers erupted up and down the street. Their local hero had won, and no amount of solemn decorum would put a damper on their celebration.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“YES!” Frederik shouted, throwing his fist in the air. He then cast a glance over his shoulder, watching Melodia slip away through the crowd, a smile shaded beneath the edge of her hood.

“He did it!” Fidget shouted, jumping and throwing her fists in the air, so invigorated by the sight of combat that she couldn’t help throwing wild kicks and haymakers at an invisible enemy. She grinned up at Rain, before blinking and asking, “Why are you upset?”

Rain was clinging to the ring between her hands clasped in prayer, focused so intently that she hadn’t even noticed the tears rolling down her face. She quickly wiped them away, before smiling down at Fidget and saying, “I’m not upset. These are happy tears.”

Slowly, Lord Kellian moved from being slumped half on his side, to sitting up on his knees. He rested his hands on his thighs, and bowed his head, saying, “I formally apologize to my niece, Lady Deleraine. My words were harsh and unbecoming of a lord, and unfit to be spoken in public. I caused embarrassment, and for that, I am sorry.”

Arvel did not lower his sword, instead looking back at Rain, looking for her reply.

Rain approached to stand beside Arvel, and smiled softly down at Lord Kellian, replying, “I forgive you, uncle. You may rise.”

Arvel withdrew his sword from beside the lord’s neck, and returned it to the shoddy sheath at his side. With his sword arm free, he wrapped it around Rain’s shoulders, pulling her tightly against his side, making her face flush brightly.

“Yer gonna be a fine regent,” Arvel said, “One day, when Rain is good ‘n ready, she’s gonna come to Fairvale to sit on her throne again. And when she does, I’ll be right beside her to make sure everything’s alright.”

Lord Kellian’s eyes narrowed faintly, reading the veiled threat between the lines. He bowed his head once more before he rose to his feet and said, “I shall govern in our lady’s stead to the best of my abilities, and endeavor to lead in a way that she would approve of.”

“Good,” Arvel replied with a firm nod, squeezing Rain’s shoulder.

As soon as Lord Kellian turned to leave, in the accompaniment of his soldiers, the settlers rushed to the middle of the street to crowd around Arvel. The din of their cheers and congratulations was too muddled for him to catch a word clearly, but their excitement was palpable. Through the crowd, he saw Lunette keeping her distance, but lifting Fidget up on her shoulders to make sure she could still see him through the crowd. Arvel gave them a smile and a wave before returning his attention to the adoring fans.

They spent the rest of their day in town. The militiamen were excited to talk to Arvel about what the duel was like from his perspective, and how he thought up the strategies he used in the moment. Rain had various errands to run that kept her busy all day, barely slowing down to take a breath or a bite for lunch. By the time the four of them were walking back toward the farm at sunset, Rain had strung her platinum and sapphire ring on a cord around her neck; placing it on her finger was a task she’d leave for Arvel’s hands, not her own. Lunette, meanwhile, carried a large flat object wrapped in canvas.

“What’s that?” Arvel asked, gesturing to Lunette’s newly acquired parcel.

“It’s something Rain ordered,” Lunette replied, “I’m not entirely sure. Something for the house, I believe she said.”

Rain smiled sheepishly and said, “I was hoping that it would be done in time for the duel, but it all happened so quickly and the townsfolk were so excited, there was just no way to have the job rushed at that point. Not that I think you needed it...”

Arvel quirked an eyebrow, all the more confused by her half-hearted explanation, before Fidget distracted him.

“Are we really going to Fairvale?” Fidget asked.

“Well not anytime soon, I don’t figure,” Arvel said, “But I figure we probably will one day.”

“You surprise me,” Lunette said, “For such a homebody to make such a commitment...”

“Well, can’t stay in my comfort zone forever,” Arvel said, “I got lots of work to do before that ever happens, too. If I’m gonna help protect the people of Elediah’s Trail, I figure that I’ll need to go looking for more of my pa’s artifacts. Maybe when the winter comes and the farm needs less work, I can teach Frederik to look after a thing or two and we can all go on a trip looking for them.”

“A trip?!” Fidget asked, surprised, before grinning broadly, “Yes!”

Rain hurried ahead once they passed the front gate, and opened the front door for Lunette so that she need not struggle with her oversized parcel. Once they were inside, Lunette sat it down on the kitchen table with a gentle ‘thunk’.

“Not there!” Fidget said, “It’s time to cook dinner!”

“It won’t be here long,” Rain said with a nervously excited smile, “Arvel, I want you to come and open it.”

Arvel toed his boots off by the door and hung his sword up by its belt on a hook on the wall, before he made his way over to the strangely shaped object. He grabbed hold of the canvas and began to tug at it in various directions before figuring out how it unwrapped. Once he had loosened it enough, he yanked the scrap fabric open and found himself looking down at a wooden heater shield edged in metal, and in the center was an etched and painted symbol of a variegated purple and white vegetable with three vibrant green sprigs flaring up from the top. Fidget stood up on the tips of her toes to look at it, while Lunette peered over Arvel’s shoulder.

“I feel like this bears some explanation,” Lunette said.

“It’s a turnip,” Rain said with a smile.

“Further explanation,” replied Lunette.

Rain laughed softly and said, “When I first came here, and I asked Arven to become our Immortal Knight... He told me he would rather farm turnips. Well, Sir Elediah was a knight by merit and he had no coat of arms, but I thought that Arvel should have something to stand as his symbol. So, I asked one of the local craftsmen to take one of the shields that arrived with my uncle’s soldiers and craft it into an escutcheon to display above the hearth.”

Arvel picked the shield up, staring down at it.

“Do you like it?” Rain asked with a shy smile.

“Well, it’s mighty nice,” Arvel said, “But... You were real upset back then, and I don’t blame you, but I don’t think you were listenin’ so well.”

“Wh-What do you mean?” Rain stammered.

“I’d rather farm turnips,” Arvel said, looking at her with a wry smirk, “And I don’t even like turnips.”

Rain’s shoulders slumped as she stared at him. Her eyes began to mist.

“No no, none of the rain clouds!” Arvel said, turning around to hand the shield to Fidget, before picking her up and setting her on his shoulders. He carried her over to the brick enclosure of the hearth, and he pulled a couple of stray knicknacks off of the mantle, before nodding for her to place it there.

Fidget sat the shield up against the wall, fiddling with its placement before she found a groove in the mantle that would support the tip of the shield, letting it stand upright against the brick. Once it was in place, Arvel backed up and sat her down on the floor beside him as he looked up at the crested shield on display.

“I messed up again,” Rain said quietly as she came to stand beside him, gently fiddling with the ring on the end of her cord necklace.

Lunette took a place at her side and pet her back gently, comfortingly, and said, “Your heart was in the right place, my lady.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Arvel said, wrapping an arm around Rain’s shoulders, “That’s just what we do around here. But we got all the time in the world to keep figuring it out.”

~The End