Headmaster Fallon Gale is sitting at his writing desk when Terius arrives. The reason for the summons is in his hand. His desk is bare except for a single stack of paper. The rest of the office is tidy. There are three chairs, one at the writing desk, the other two by the lone window. A workbench lines one wall, floor to ceiling bookshelves fill another. A garish red rug covers most of the floor.
“Defender Terius, you have work.”
“Master, how may I serve?”
“We can start by skipping the rest of the ceremony. You have a long way to travel, we should not waste time. There’s a duelist causing mischief in Brass.”
“What kind of mischief”, asks Terius?
“I’m sending you, that tells you there’s at least one dead. The message says the Duelist is named Sholto. We don’t have a record of him, I don’t know how strong he is. You should read the report yourself.”
Terius takes the report from Fallon, reads it twice. The duelist arrived in Brass a week earlier, pumped the locals for old rivalries and spent every spare moment stoking the hate held by two families until one took him up on settling their differences with a duel. If both parties had duelist representation it would be fair, it never is. A duelist never wants a fair fight.
Terius returns to his office; Master Robles is no longer there. He makes his way past his desk, eyeing the small pile of papers he’s yet to read, and passes through the door separating his personal room from his office.
His room, unlike his office, is cluttered with personal affects and trophies taken from past conquests. Nothing gory like the scalps some Defenders will take. He prefers personal items from a beaten opponent. His collection mostly consists of jewelry and weapons. Besides the trophies he likes to collect items from places he visits. Strange garb, specialty tools, and figurines made after the fashion of the ladies of the region being a small sample. Despite his disdain for the Dragon Priesthood and the Free’er they serve, he has two paintings of their dragon adorning his walls.
Under his bed is a flat trunk. He slides it out and puts it atop his bed. Opening it he removes his Defenders garb, dons it and goes about arming himself.
People always ask why someone like himself bothers with a sword, knife, or staff. The answer is always met with disbelief as it goes against the Free’er’ teachings. Besting an opponent when you can command the elements and they cannot, is not a victory; it’s an execution. The laws he follows and the oaths of a Defender mandate he shows restraint to allow his opponents the opportunity to submit. Punching a hole in their chest with a lightning bolt doesn’t give them that opportunity.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
His Defender garb is basic, a close-fitting shirt tucked in and tied down to his chinos. The chinos also tight fitting are tucked inside and secured to his boots with ties. All black for the practical reason of hiding burn marks and his opponent’s blood. A short staff and sword are secured behind his back, both accessible over his left shoulder. Two long knives are affixed to his belt and a third shorter blade is attached to his ankle over top his chinos. A pouch containing shot, like those used by slingers is the last of his weaponry is affixed behind his right long knife. Everything is secured with two loops of leather cord to ensure they do not come free when traveling. A drop leg bag strapped to his left thigh holds his writing instruments and stamps he uses in various jurisdictions, round out his gear.
Now equipped for work he makes his way back to the kitchen for a light meal; he walks this time.
The dining hall and kitchen are nearly empty as lessons are over and the students have some free time. Most leave the study to play or visit one of the nearby bars at this time. They’ll all be back by sundown looking for food and comradery. One person of interest was alone at a table with two plates in front of her. She looks up as he approaches.
“I think you like parading about in your little costume a bit too much,” says Dean of Sight and Sense - Master Vania Adara in her slow drawl. “A man of your position should dress like a scholar when the students are around. You’re going to inspire them into joining your foolish cult where they’ll use all this knowledge and training to help others.” She raises an eyebrow while waiting for his response.
“Yes, that is my intention, why else would I do this?” Terius knows from experience that Vania often says one thing but means another. He gave up on understanding her a long time ago. He continues, “May I join you or is that second plate of food for someone else?”
“Oh, please do sit down. Paras stopped by my office and told me you were summoned by Fallon, that either means the Fox boy burned one of Black Hills books from your little prank or you were leaving the study on some Defender business. As I didn’t smell any more smoke than that mess you made in the atrium it must be the first option.”
She pauses and takes a bite of bread to give her mostly silent dinner partner a moment to respond. Missing the subtle hint as he always does, he continues eating as well.
Shaking her head she continues, “So where is the old man sending you this time, back to Brust to finish hunting down… what was that by the way, you never did tell me?”
“I can’t say what it was because we have not found it. I’m going to Brass to confront a Duelist named Sholto. I should be back early tomorrow.”
“It must be nice being able to fly. You just kick up and fly anywhere you want, traveling for hours instead of days.”
“The time saving is incredible, but it’s boring, cold and easier to get lost than you would think.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s what all you fly-boys say. Nobody believes it.”
Finishing his food, Terius stands and makes to leave, “Believe what you like, you always do. If I’m to be back in the morning I need go now.”
“When you get back, you should stop by my office so I can debrief you?”
“I’ll have already written my report for Fallon. Maybe I can stop by your office for something more intimate than a debrief?”
“Yes, that sounds wonderful. Why, I should have thought of that, whatever was I thinking?”
Terius, liking this future plan, takes his leave and heads for the roof.