Titus approached the growing crowd of healers gathering on the northern edge of the clearing. The majority were elven or human and all but a few wore robes of various styles, and the few who had armor wore only chest plates and bracers over robes or fine clothes. Aside from muddy boots and occasional blood stains, most of the clothing was spotless, and all the armor was pristine. He recognized more than a few faces from the aftermath of the Hydra attack, and remembered the names of some.

Titus politely made his way through the crowd until he spotted Lieutenant Reesh conversing with another healer away from the gathering. He approached but stopped at a short distance and waited his turn to speak with the lieutenant.

After a moment, the other healer turned and spoke, "can we help you?"

Titus looked him up and down, recognizing him from the beach. He was one of the clerics Titus had shoved aside to rescue a dying patient. He was human, pale skinned and bulky. He was one of those in partial armor, and his armor plates were trimmed with fine engravings that indicated enchantments and wealth. An impractically large sword was strapped to his back in a manner that would be inconvenient, if not impossible, to unsheathe in a hurry. His large frame dwarfed the frail old lieutenant standing with him.

"Apologies," Titus said, "I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm waiting for an opportunity to speak with the lieutenant."

"Find me after I conduct my brief, Horace," Lieutenant Reesh said to the other man, "we can finish our conversation then."

Horace looked like he might object, but nodded to the lieutenant and walked away. He stopped to mingle with a nearby group of adventurers, casting a brief side eye towards Titus.

"How can I help you, young man?" Lieutenant Reesh said, shaking Titus's hand.

"My name is Titus, sir," Titus stood upright with his shoulders back, looking straight ahead and avoiding eye contact rather than looking down at the shorter man, "I have the Thread of Life, and possess predominantly healing abilities, but I can fight too. I seek your permission to report as a fighter."

Lieutenant Reesh inspected him for a moment, "you certainly look the part. Why ask permission?"

"Respect, sir."

The old man nodded appreciatively, "where did you study?"

Titus was surprised the lieutenant had assumed he was a studied healer, most did not.

"The Grand Clerical Academy at the Four Cities, sir. I studied for two years before I was expelled," he nervously added an explanation, "my methods were at odds with their teachings."

The old man's expression turned sour, "the ways of the Cleric have been refined over millennia, and none teach it better than the Grand Clerical Academies. Do you think you know better than thousands of years of elders?"

Titus hesitated, "I think all disciplines have room for improvement, sir."

The lieutenant looked like he wanted to spit on Titus's boots, "I don't care where you report, but it's not here. There's no place for arrogant heretics in my ranks."

Titus maintained his composure and nodded, "thank you for your time, sir."

He took the lieutenant's statement as a dismissal, and quickly walked away. Soon he joined Eli and Autumn across the clearing, amongst a gathering of fighters of various races and sizes, wearing a wide variety of distinct armors and weapons. The conversation of the crowd was dying down as they anticipated Lieutenant Ash Druga's speech.

"How'd it go?" Eli whispered to Titus.

"Could have gone better, but I'm here."

"Warriors!" Ash Druga shouted suddenly, raising her hands in the air. The crowd responded with cheers and yells, which Autumn happily joined in on. The lieutenant continued before the cheers could finish, "Yes! That's the energy I was hoping for. It'll be a pleasure to bloody our weapons together!" More cheers followed.

Ash Druga's briefing was energetic throughout and focused as much on building hype and morale as it did informing her troops. Between grand declarations of imminent victory and gratuitous glorifications of violence, she described the mission priorities, rules of engagement, and introduced several sergeants she had chosen from the crowd to serve as her immediate subordinates. She closed out the briefing with a passionate call to action, shouting as she held her hammer over her head, to which the crowd responded by holding up their own weapons and shouting with her.

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"I think I love her," Autumn said after Ash Druga's briefing, as they distanced themselves from the still rowdy crowd of fighters.

Titus gave her a skeptical look, "all she did was yell about killing things."

"Exactly!" Autumn said, "truly, a woman after my heart."

"Truly a woman trying to get us killed," Eli said bitterly, "not a minute spent on strategy, formations, emergency protocol-- she basically told us when and what we're allowed to kill, then shouted at us for ten minutes."

"I don't see what the problem is,' Autumn said.

A passerby slammed his shoulder into Titus, who spun with the blow and continued his stride backwards for a few steps as he turned to face the man. It was Horace, with an arrogant smile and entourage of clerics.

"Is that what we're doing?" Titus asked, holding his hands out to the side in a questioning gesture.

"Leave it alone," Eli said, placing a hand on Titus's arm. Titus shrugged him off.

The smile dropped from Horace's face when Titus didn't back down. He stepped closer and locked eyes with Titus, "where I come from we respect our betters."

"I couldn't tell," Titus said sharply.

Horace shoved him, and Titus stumbled several steps back.

"So you actually do think you're better than us, heretic?" Horace demanded, "is that why you choose to be with the brutes and savages? Really?"

"These 'brutes and savages' are our patients," Titus said, stepping up to Horace and pointing a finger at him, "they're the people I'd fucking die to protect while you're back at camp playing dress up as a hero. Have you ever even used that sword?"

Horace slapped Titus's hand away, "I'm ten times the hero you'll ever be."

"Titus," Eli cautioned.

"Prove it, then," Titus said, standing tall and staring down Horace.

"Alright, let's go," Horace said loudly, indicating to the growing number of onlookers that they would be getting a show.

Eli grabbed Titus by the upper arm and pulled him in close, "let it go," he ordered.

"Not this one, Eli," Titus said.

Eli stared back at the determined glare in his eyes, " fine. We have your back if it anything fucked up happens."

Titus nodded his appreciation, then stepped up across from Horace in the middle of a ring of adventurers that was forming around them in anticipation. Coins were already being passed around into betting pools.

"Hand-to-hand only, no killing or maiming," Eli proclaimed, "otherwise, classic duel."

"Acceptable," one of the clerics belonging to Horace's entourage shouted.

"If I win," Horace smiled sadistically, "you kiss my boot and apologize for being a heretic."

"If I win, I'm taking your sword."

Horace scoffed, "this sword is worth more than everything you own."

"Worried about losing it?" Titus asked.

Horace spat at the ground between them, then pointed at a random member of the crowd, "start the duel!"

The onlooker flinched at the sudden attention, looked around for help, then stammered, "uh, ready,... duel!"

A fist already swung at Titus's head. He ducked and stepped under it, grabbing Horace by the belt with one hand while the other reached around to grab the back strap of his chest plate. Titus hoisted Horace from the ground, then twisted and slammed him into the mud. Titus took a few steps away and spread his arms out wide at Horace in a taunt.

Horace growled and climbed to his feet, wiping mud splatters from his face with a forearm. He stepped forward with his leading foot, popping out a quick jab which Titus leaned back to avoid. Titus stepped in with his trailing foot and swung a hook towards his opponent's abdomen. He missed his target of exposed cloth, instead clanging his gauntlet on Horace's chest plate.

Horace slammed an elbow into Titus's head, ringing his ears and blurring his vision. Titus stumbled from the blow, then felt a boot plant against his hip and shove him to the ground. Horace kicked Titus in the ribs as he landed, then again in the back as he rolled.

Autumn stepped forward, but Eli held her back.

Titus rose to his hands and knees, and Horace kicked him in the ribs again, sending him back into the mud. Titus rolled as he landed, gaining distance between them. He came out of the roll and rose to his feet in a fluid motion, hands already up to block an incoming punch.

They exchanged rapid blows. A gauntlet caught Horace on the chin, and another elbow grazed Titus's brow, and several more strikes were dodged or blocked. Titus stepped in close and grabbed Horace by the collar, raked his boot down the length of Horace's shin, then slammed his head into Horace's face.

Horace stumbled back, clutching a bloody nose.

"Let me heal that for you," Titus said, conjuring healing magic in his fist and popping Horace in the nose, rocking his head back.

Horace hissed in pain as he stumbled further, his nose burning as it rapidly healed from the multiple breaks. Titus punched him in the face again with another healing blow, breaking and healing the bones and cartilage again.

"Hand-to-hand only!" A member of Horace's entourage yelled, "that's a forfeit!"

"It's healing magic you dumb fuck, not an attack," Autumn yelled back, ignoring that most of Titus's healing magic could also function as attacks.

"No foul, no forfeit," Eli stated flatly but loudly. The objecting cleric scowled, but accepted the rebuttal.

Titus landed the fourth consecutive healing blow to Horace's face, the dizzy and dazed cleric flailed weak and desperate punches before finally tripping and falling awkwardly on his ass in the mud. Titus swung a casual straight-legged kick into Horace's face, laying him out flat. This time the fractures didn't heal.

Titus kneeled beside his opponent and lightly slapped him on the cheek, his head wobbled limply and his eyes stayed drooped. Titus grabbed Horace by the wrist and raised it into the air, then released it. As the limp arm splashed back into the mud, the crowd erupted. Some had won big in the bets and shouted the loudest, others were just happy to see a fight and cheered along, and several swore and complained at the money they'd lost.

Titus rolled the unconscious Horace on his side, careful to keep his face out of the mud as he unstrapped the sheathed sword on his back.

Two of the clerics moved to stop him, but Eli blocked their way and outstretched his hand, "we all saw a fair victory, don't make this messy."

The clerics exchanged deliberative looks, but before they could speak Titus was slinging the muddy sword over his shoulder by the sheath's harness and barging past them.

"You should probably heal that guy," he pointed a thumb over his shoulder.