Chapter 16

It was now the 16th of April, year 1660. Two months had passed since the Klarwasser Mercenary Company had returned home to Bickenstadt. The men were enjoying their time off, but the Baron and his inner circle, with the exception of Jean who was on assignment repairing and building infrastructure around Bickenstadt, were incredibly bored.

Since the Baron’s son Wolfgang was such a good administrator, he and his lieutenants had nothing to do, for the most part. The Baron’s Lieutenants weren’t government agents, they were mercenaries, so they didn’t have too much to actually get done when off season..

They were lounging around the reception hall, either napping or reading in their respective places. The Baron had been able to take quite a few books from the former Baron of Holenstadt’s personal collection. The Baron himself and the more academically minded men he kept around him enjoyed the books, with many of them being personal commissions of nobles on topics ranging from Chemistry to speculative pieces about the future of warfare.

The men who weren’t particularly interested in academics, however, were not enjoying them. The best thing Udo could find was an older, leather bound Hans Bruekner novel titled “Fifteen Elven Clowns'', which Udo thought was slightly below average. He liked that it had Elven main characters and generally made fun of Imperial rule, but since Brueckner was making fun of the Empire he had to couch it in so much metaphor that Udo felt it made his novel too dense and harder to parse than his other work.

Udo enjoyed seeing stories with pro-Elven narratives, or more accurately anti-racist narratives, mostly because he had a bad case of being a young, reasonably intelligent man, which caused him to be a bit of a contrarian. However, that, as well as an incredible sexual expereince he had in Leibenstadt, led him to come to the conclusion that what the Empire had told him about the Elves was incorrect.

Am I morally lucky or something? Whatever, don't matter. I don’t think the Elven slaves care if I’m principled or whatever when I advocate for ‘em. And I'm sure that's doubly true for the women.

And so, because of the fairly progressive themes, especially for the time it was written, the novel was fairly entertaining. However, Udo would rather read his newer work, as Bruekner became more and more explicit with his satire after he became famous and loved for his work.

Well, I’d prefer to be exercising, but all my friends are in here.

Udo had to read quite a bit of Bruekner’s literature during his Baron-funded-education. While he didn’t really enjoy reading, he did fairly well in that class, and it did give him a better appreciation for literature and education. People tended to think that he was absentminded and stupid, but that was fine with him. Such a thing generally makes it easier to get information out of people. What was not fine, however, is that he was getting bored and restless.

Udo slammed ‘Fifteen Elven Clowns’ shut and threw it over his shoulder, which startled the people around him, with the exception of Fergus and Helmut. The two men never seemed to get startled by anything. Udo figured it was some sort of magic affecting their minds, but never really cared enough to ask.

Wonder if they can help me focus better with magic. Maybe applying strengthening magic to-fuckin’ whatever.

“Guys, I want to fight something! Where can I fight something?”

The Baron spoked without looking up from his book.

“Be careful with that. Leather-bound books are very expensive.”

Hans put down his book and smirked.

“Baron, aren’t you the richest man in the Empire?”

“Just because I have unimaginable riches doesn’t mean I can just throw money down the drain?”

Helmut, following the Baron’s example, responded very dryly without looking up from his book.

“You just bought a library’s worth of books without checking what they were.”

The Baron briefly gave Helmut side eye and went back to reading. Udo stood up and looked over exasperatedly at Fergus.

“Fergus! Wouldn’t you rather fight something than just sit there reading?!”

Fergus looked up from the book he and Ludwin were sharing.

“Aye wouldnae mind a good fight! But aye’m enjoyin’ this book too!”

Ludwin smiled brightly and looked up, showing off the contents of their book.

“It has pictures!”

Fergus crossed his arms and nodded sagely.

“Aye, it has pictures.”

The Baron set down his book and walked over to Ludwin

“Ooooooh it has pictures! Let me see!”

“I DON’T CARE IF IT HAS PICTURES! I WANT TO FIGHT SOMETHING!”

Udo was beginning to get frantic. Hans looked up at him smugly.

“How are you more battle happy than the Berzerkeri? Isn’t fighting his religion or something?”

Udo frowned. The Baron spoke up, the atmosphere of the room becoming thicker with the amount of smug he was putting out.

“Maybe you would be happier if you had a picture book.”

Udo sat back down in a huff and downed his glass of wine. Helmut commented, again without looking up from his book.

“Why don’t we have a tournament or something?”

The Baron perked up.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. We could have a friendly tournament where we fight each other. The winner will earn bragging rights. How does that sound to you guys?”

Udo jumped up from his seat and violently nodded his head.

“Great, then that’s what we’re doing.”

Hans furrowed his brown slightly.

“The rest of us haven’t given our opinions yet.”

Udo rolled his eyes.

“Hans, can you honestly tell me you all would rather sit here in dead silence skimming through academic textbooks?”

Hans opened his mouth to respond, but after holding it open for a moment he sat back in his seat and smiled.

“Fair enough.”

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Wolfgang stuck a sign made of wood in the ground and began drawing a score chart with white paint.

“We are going to use a tournament bracket system. We will end with the two ultimate winners fighting each other. The rules are simple, you fight until one of you gives up or until the referee decides you would have died.“

He drew a body and labeled different vital spots, showing where to hit to score points.

“We will be using wooden weapons for this, so fight as hard as you can. Just try not to kill each other. The first match will be Hans against Ludwin. I will referee.”

Wolfgang swiftly drew up some brackets while Ludwin and Hans were strapping on their armor and grabbing their practice weapons.

Ludwin and Hans took up arms facing each other. They were both wearing their full kit. Ludwin’s armor was similar to what the Baron wears, though far less flashy and less add ons for hand to hand combat. On his chest was a plate cuirass covered by a tabard bearing the symbol of his family’s merchant company, a caravan of people walking through a mountain pass with the sun high above, Imperial Cult symbolism for the goddess Frau Abhilfe, the goddess of medicine and safe travels. On his head was a morion helmet, same as the Baron. Additionally, on his forearms were steel vambrace, and on his legs steel greaves.

Hans was wearing the standard issue armor of the Grand Imperial Army, a black gambeson with jack chains and a kettle helm. The Baron insisted on getting him plate like the others, but Hans refused. He wanted to ‘continue to show his loyalty to the Empire’ and insisted on wearing an unenchanted, standard issue set of armor.

Ludwin was using a wooden longsword and Hans was using a wooden estoc, about the same length of a longsword, but the blade was much more cylindrical, as it was made for thrusting over slashing. Ludwin’s sword was fairly conventional, however Hans’s choice was somewhat controversial within the swordschools of the Empire. Many instructors insisted that the only way to fight like a true warrior instead of just a soldier was to use a slashing weapon like a longsword or greatsword.

Hans was always somewhat of a traditionalist and nationalist, however, he just so happened to have been trained in Bickenstadt, where that narrative is far less popular. Ludwin was generally more experimental, but he was trained in Grössenburg, the epicenter of that philosophy.

Ludwin took up his stance, his longsword vertical and close to his body, his chest facing forward and his weight on the lead leg. Hans stood with his left shoulder pointing towards Ludwin and his weight evenly distributed between his legs, raising both of his arms and letting his estoc rest on his left bicep, tip pointed at Ludwin’s neck. Wolfgang raised his arm and looked at both contestants.

“Are you ready?”

Both fighters wordlessly confirmed and Wolfgang dropped his arm.

“FIGHT!”

Hans began to slowly creep forward as Ludwin stood dead still. Hans took a step forward and thrust at Ludwin’s neck. Ludwin swung his longsword and slapped Han’s estoc, redirecting his strike and sliding along the blade as he aimed a ripost at Han’s head. Hans stopped his momentum and cocked his head to the side, barely avoiding the tip of Ludwin’s wooden sword.

Hans pulled his sword back and kicked Ludwin in the stomach. Ludwin’s armor protected him from the actual impact of the strike, but he was driven back nonetheless. Hans jabbed at the openings in Ludwins armor, which Ludwin deflected with ease.

Ludwin readied himself and struck Han’s blade away with as much force as he could manage, forcing an opening large enough to return a solid kick to his stomach. Hans fell to the ground and immediately rolled over himself back onto his feet, desperately deflecting the flurry of strikes attempting to take advantage of his compromised footing.

Hans was on the backfoot and Ludwin wanted to end the fight as quickly as he could manage. His stamina reserves were never as vast as his fellow lieutenants and they all knew it. They were all gifted ones, and Ludwin was a regular person. He could already feel himself slowing down a small amount. Hans was very fast, and deflecting his attacks may have been easy individually, but he could throw out so many attacks that it would tire the average person quickly.

Ludwin’s attacks came out faster and harder as he tried to maintain his advantage. Large, powerful strikes attempting to take advantage of his heavier sword to break Hans’s guard, followed by a flurry of quick controlled strikes where Hans’s guard was weakest. Ludwin began to panic as he felt himself slow down, and saw that Hans was still completely fresh.

As soon as Hans could sense weakness he struck. Ludwin raised his longsword above his head, but in his haste to perform a powerstroke he had raised it too high, leaving himself open. Hans lunged at Ludwin, spearing him with his shoulder and tackling him to the ground, straddling him, grabbing the middle of his cylindrical blade, and jabbing the point of his wooden sword to Ludwin’s neck.

“Winner is Hans!”

Hans got off Ludwin and offered him a hand, which Ludwin took gratefully.

“I may not have won, but I did fairly well I think! I was never much of a fighter anyways.”

Helmut came over and patted Ludwin on the shoulder, forming what looked like his largest smile ever. It was a bit stiff and unnatural, but it was more than just the edges of his mouth, which meant he was enjoying himself quite a bit.

“You did well for yourself. Hans is a bad matchup for you. Your fighting styles are similar, but he has much more stamina than any of us, save for Fergus. However, your performance shows that you have improved greatly since I first met you.”

Ludwin smiled warmly and embraced Helmut. Helmut looked awkward, and his hands remained in the air as he tried to figure out what to do.

“Thank you! I’ll continue to work as hard as I can! Soon enough I’ll be able to beat at least one of you!”

Hans returned his sword to the sword rack and slapped Ludwin’s shoulder as he came back over.

“I’ll be looking forward to it, you’ll probably be able to sooner than you’d think.”

Wolfgang wrote down the winner for the bracket and called out the next match.

“Next up is Helmut vs Fergus!”

Both of them took up their wooden weapons and stood opposed to each other. Helmut was wearing the same armor as Ludwin and the Baron, though his was completely plain, without even a tabard covering it. And under that, instead of the extremely puffy Landsknecht clothing traditionally worn in the Empire, he wore a comparatively less puffy white Poet shirt, gray breeches, and brown laced boots.

Fergus was wearing his everyday clothes, and it just so happened that part of going down the path of Gán was to wear armor at all times, and Berzerkeri’s had their own traditional armor. He wore the most popular piece of clothing at his home island of Staður Reiði: A pale-green tartan kilt. On his chest was a special piece of armor known as the Vesti af Gán, or Vest of Gán, which was the same color and pattern as his kilt.

A Vest of Gán is made up of a thick Gambeson with two to three layers of chainmail sewn in, as well as metal plates sewn over the vitals. To become a true Vest of Gán, it is then enchanted by the Blýhristari, the ‘Lead Shaker’ of the Gánur cult to be bulletproof. Each vest costs about 20x as much as a normal gambeson, and many Lead Shakers are dedicated entirely to producing them. It was proof that Fergus was the real deal, a true Berzerkeri.

Helmut stood sideways with a rapier in his lead hand and a parry dagger in his off hand. He was leaned over at the torso, and his rapier was held perfectly horizontally facing Fergus, and his parry dagger just below his pectorals, also facing Fergus.

Fergus squared up, his chest facing straight forward. His hatchet was resting on his shoulder, and his knife was held the same way Helmut’s way, except in a reverse grip, tip facing down. Fergus’s knife was a strange looking one. It was known as an Orkney Knuckle Knife. The handle had a pair of brass knuckles in it, making it excellent for either subduing someone or killing them.

“When did I commission a wooden trench knife?”

The Baron muttered to himself quietly. Ludwin spoke absentmindedly as he observed the two combatants. He looked excited for the fight.

“A what?”

“Uh, I mean a knuckle knife.”

Ludwin spoke quickly and without taking his eyes off of Fergus, obviously not even hearing the Baron’s clarification.

“Ohyeahofcourse.”

Wolfgang raised his arm.

“Are both combatants ready?”

Fergus nodded.

“Aye!”

Helmut didn’t move at all.

“Of course.”

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“Well then, three...two...one...FIGHT!”

As soon as the first syllable of fight was being said aloud Fergus shot at Helmut like a cannonball, digging out chunks of dirt with each leap forward. Fergus flicked his hatchet at Helmut’s neck, attempting to bash through his guard with his much heavier weapon. Helmut was able to parry the ax, somehow managing to flick the ax head to the side with his much lighter rapier. He took the opportunity to thrust at Fergus, bending forward with his torso and grinding his wooden blade against Fergus’s wooden handle.

Fergus dodged the thrust by a hair’s breadth, crouching and tilting his head just enough to duck under Helmut’s blade, and simultaneously binding the rapier by catching it in the beard of his ax. He tugged on the rapier just enough to pull Helmut forward, causing him to overextend and weaken his footing. Fergus untangled their weapons and flicked his wrist forward, the strike sliding down Helmut’s helmet.

Helmut thrust his dagger into Fergus’s flank, but it simply glanced off. Since Fergus’s armor was enchanted, that attack would have done nothing even if he were wielding a real dagger, and so the match continued.

Fergus swiped at Helmut’s neck, nicking the top of Helmut’s helmet as he ducked under the strike and rose, shoving Fergus off of him with as much force as he could. Fergus literally flew backwards, landing gracefully on his feet and immediately charging back in.

Helmut thrust at Fergus’s neck with blinding speed, his blade moving so fast a small cloud of dust kicked up from the ground followed after it. Fergus moved just as fast, dropping down into a roll, coming back up and punching Helmut in the chest, denting his armor and sending him stumbling back. Even as he tried and failed to regain his footing, he never let up attacking Fergus, desperately trying to maintain some distance between him and the wrecking ball zeroing in on his location.

Fergus bobbed and weaved, eating up the distance between the two in less than a second, catching Helmut’s rapier in the beard of his ax again, pulling it towards him as he punched with his knuckle knife. Helmut was forced to let go of his rapier as he was knocked flat on his back by the unbelievable force of Fergus’s punch. Fergus jumped and tried to finish him off, but Helmut managed to kick Fergus’s stomach as he was coming down, doubling him over Helmut’s legs.

Fergus redirected his strike down into Helmut’s thigh, the ax bouncing off his Chausis, leaving a dent, which elicited a pained grunt from Helmut. Fergus pressed his body weight down, causing Helmut’s leg to bend. Fergus swiftly swiped his ax at Helmut’s neck, connecting with a loud THWACK!

After taking a few seconds to process what just happened, Wolfgang announced the result.

“Uh...Fergus wins by instant death! Helmut wins by bleedout. Helmut would die first, which makes Fergus the victor!”

“Hvað?”

Fergus looked down and saw a dagger pressed into his left armpit.

“Helmut severed an artery when you landed, but you chopped his neck, so you win.”

Fergus stared at the dagger for a moment and smiled brightly at Helmut, rolling off of him and extending his hand to him.

“Good thinkin’ there! Ya really got mah!”

Helmut grimaced and took his hand

“I suppose in the battle of brawn vs finesse, it is a draw.”

Fergus grinned and started juggling his weapons.

“Aye got plenty finesse! Ludwin look a’ mah finesse!”

As soon as Fergus turned to Ludwin his ax landed directly on his head, eliciting a panicked yowl.

“Yes Fergus...very good...finesse...yes.”

Ludwin tried in vain to not laugh at Fergus’s gaff, barely getting words out in between covering his mouth to hide his smile. Fergus smiled twice as brightly and chucked his weapons at the rack, perfectly banking off of the wall to land the weapons in their place, following it up with a loud howl of victory. Some would call it luck, Fergus called it destiny. He was chosen by Gán, and so whatever he tries with his weapons is very likely to work, at least as far as he was concerned.

“Aye! Finesse!”

Helmut cooly walked over to Fergus with a smarmy grin.

“Watch this.”

Helmut held his sword up in front of him and took a deep breath, letting go of the sword and spin kicking it, sending the sword flying to the sword rack and landing in place with just a slight rattle.

Ludwin retrieved Helmut’s dropped knife and handed it to him, a smug smile painted across his face.

“Try it with the knife too.”

Helmut took the knife trepidatiously and Ludwin sat down on a nearby bench with Fergus.

“I’ll certainly try. If I make this you owe me 10 Reiksgeld.”

“Deal.”

Helmut stared at his knife for a moment and took another deep breath, throwing it up in the air and kicking it at the rack. The knife flew through the air and struck the sword rack with a deafening THWACK! Causing all of the weapons to fall off the rack in a cacophony of sound, ending with his rapier slowly tilting over and comically falling on top of the pile of practice weapons.

Ludwin gloated at Helmut as he walked over to fix his mess.

“Oh my! That went about as poorly as it could have!”

Wolfgang clapped to get everyone’s attention.

“Ok, the next match is me vs my father. Helmut, toss me a halberd and a kaltzbager. And a saber for dad.”

Helmut did as asked and went back to returning the weapons to their proper places.

“Ludwin, can you referee for this match?”

Ludwin looked up lazily, leaning back to back with Fergus as they sat on a bench.

“Yeah, sure.”

He got up and dusted off his pants.

The Baron wore his usual set of armor, the same armor that Ludwin and Helmut wore, though far fancier looking. His Cuirass had intricate etchings inlaid with gold emanating from the center, portraying a ship docking at a port, representing where his wealth came from: Maritime trade. His Greaves had golden waves spread across them, as did his Chaussis. His Morion helmet had intricate, though less symbolic swirls covering the entire surface area.

His armor most likely cost more than a small town to create, as not only was each and every piece of his arsenal an art piece commissioned personally by him created by the finest craftsmen in the Empire, his armor was enchanted to be able to stop a cannon ball, though the force transfer would still kill any man.

Wolfgang was wearing the same set of armor, though his was a simple, standard issue cuirassier set, similar to Helmut’s. As he was not a soldier or a warrior, he did not have any specially made armor or weapons, the closest thing in his possession was a set of parade armor which was not made for combat. However, even if he was not a warrior, he was still the Baron’s son. He was extensively educated in melee combat, and he was a gifted one from a bloodline of extremely prolific warriors. He could more than hold his own against nearly any opponent.

The Baron assumed his stance, right shoulder forward forward, saber held out in front, perfectly vertical. His off hand was at his hip, not doing anything in particular other than staying out of the way of his lead hand. He kept his weight distributed evenly across both legs, allowing for a strong balance of offensive and defensive footwork.

Wolfgang slid the kaltzbager into his belt and lifted the halberd above his head with both arms, pointing the head of his halberd at the Baron’s center of mass. He stood similar to the Baron, facing sideways, weight distributed evenly between his legs.

The Baron tilted his head as he studied Wolfgang’s stance, slowly changing styles to something that allowed him to parry the halberd and strike with the saber easier. Since he was a gifted one, and had decades of combat experience, he was more than comfortable parrying weapons with his hands.

His stance deepened and he switched which shoulder was facing forward. He held his off hand in front of him, his left arm roughly forming a 120 degree angle with his palm facing forward. He held his saber horizontally above his head, his right arm a perfect 90 degrees.

Ludwin glanced at both men.

“Are you both ready?

Wolfgang nodded.

“Of course.”

The Baron smiled gleefully.

“Never better.”

Ludwin nodded then raised his arm, swinging it down as he yelled.

“Alright then. FIGHT!”

Both the Baron and Wolfgang began to inch towards each other. Wolfgang started with a few probing jabs, which the Baron easily batted away with his hand. Wolfgang thrust at the Baron’s gut and wrenched his halberd up as the Baron dodged back, hoping to catch him with the swordlike beak while his torso was angled forward.

The Baron managed to right himself fast enough to avoid the beak and struck the shaft with his forearm, displacing the halberd’s head and slashing downwards in the same motion. Wolfgang stepped back to avoid the slash and pulled back the halberd, aiming a thrust at the Baron’s gut and unleashing it with blinding speed.

Before Wolfgang even began to chamber his thrust, the Baron could see what he was going to do with extreme clarity. Timing his movements with uncanny precision, the Baron reached past the head and slammed it into the ground with enough force to pierce the tightly packed dirt and send grass flying in every direction. In the same motion, he thrust his saber down at Wolfgang’s neck in an overhead attack, forcing Wolfgang to duck and roll backwards and abandon his polearm.

Wolfgang threw out a desperate draw strike to block the Baron’s next attack, drawing his kaltzbager from his belt and attacking in one smooth motion, their weapons clashing hard enough to crack both of them slightly. They were still usable, and both father and son had the same thought.

I’m gonna break it over his head!

Wolfgang regained his footing, and the Baron switched stances back to the one at the beginning: Right side forward, saber held vertically in front, off hand at his hip. After both men took a second to think, the two began to exchange blows with his father, both of them parrying the other’s attacks and riposting with relative ease. The Baron began a downward strike and twisted his wrist and elbow to the right, edge facing the sky, point heading for Wolfgang’s neck.

Wolfgang thrust his kaltzbager forward to make contact with the Baron’s saber, getting inside the curve and pushing it to the side before flicking his wrist to slash with the false edge, which the Baron backstepped to avoid. The two men stared at each other for a moment before smiling and letting loose a few chuckles.

“You taught me swordsmanship from a young age, I know all your tricks.”

The Baron smiled and saluted with his blade, bringing the vertically in front of his nose and gesturing forward towards Wolfgang.

“Old masters never teach their students everything they know. It’d take too much time!”

Wolfgang grinned and dashed forwards.

“Teach me then!”

The Baron thought deeply, hoping to maybe trigger the precognition it seemed he had. He smiled cruelly.

“Gladly!”

Wolfgang was going to lunge and thrust to his neck. As Wolfgang began to move forward, the Baron thrust his saber forward, the tip aimed higher than Wolfgang’s neck, grinding his blade along Wolfgang’s as they both continued their thrust. The Baron began to smoothly redirect Wolfgang’s thrust to the left.

As the two men reached the midpoint of their lunge, the Baron wrenched his saber up and around Wolfgang’s blade and lunged even deeper, touching the midpoint of his blade to Wolfgang’s neck and dragging it across and down as he lunged to the right, stopping himself from completely falling using his off hand. The Baron balanced on his left hand and stepped through with his left leg, coming up behind Wolfgang and digging his heel into the dirt, kicking up chunks of dirt. The Baron covered the back of his head with his saber hand and threw himself backwards with as much force as he could manage, slamming into Wolfgang back first.

Wolfgang was sent flying forwards, falling forward and sliding a short distance before coming to a stop. His kaltzbager flew off in a random direction, causing Ludwin to try and sidestep it as it embedded itself in the ground in front of him. Wolfgang stayed face down for a solid five seconds before pushing himself up on his knees. The courtyard was silent, save for the labored breathing of the two combatants.

After the Lieutenants and the few civilians who stumbled across their tournament and were watching at a respectful distance sat in awed silence for an eternity, Ludwin nearly shouted who the winner was.

“That was incredible! Baron wins with a slash to the neck! I could barely even follow that!”

The Baron gave Wolfgang another saber salute, bringing it in front of his nose and slashing downwards until the tip was facing the ground before moving over to help up his son.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time, son. You’re a ruler at heart, I’m a warrior! I will never run a government nearly as well as you, but you’ll never beat me in a fight!”

Wolfgang was visibly rattled, his eyes opened a bit wider than they normally would be.

“I didn’t see that coming. What exactly did you do? Wrench your saber over my sword and slash at my neck? All while easily avoiding my thrust? That’s ridiculously precise!”

The Baron laughed boisterously and tossed his saber to Helmut, who efficiently placed it back on the rack.

“Like I said! I’ve been doing this for a long time! If you did nothing but hone your craft for thirty years, you’d be just as good as me!”

Probably not. I literally have precognition.

He went over and sat at the bench Ludwin and Fergus were sharing, leaning back, resting his arms on the backrest, and crossing an ankle over his knee.

“It was nothing more than an old man and his tricks. Who is up next?”

Wolfgang shook off his injury and took up his chalk. He filled out the results of the previous round, and wrote out the rest of the tournament brackets.

“It looks like it’s Udo against Ludwin, giving Udo his first match and Ludwin a second chance.”

Ludwin rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his fist.

“Do we truly need to go through this song and dance? We all know that Udo is far more skilled than I.”

Fergus tapped the back of his head against Ludwin’s

“It never ‘urts ta get some practice in!”

Ludwin considered it for a moment.

“I…suppose that’s true. Maybe you can teach me something, huh Udo?”

Everyone looked around and waited for Udo’s witty response, finding that he was nowhere to be seen. Hans threw his arms up in annoyance.

“Where in Auftragter’s name is Udo? This whole tournament was his idea!”

Wolfgang bit his nail as he thought.

“Well...without Udo we will just have to move on to the final fight, Fergus vs Baron. Is that alright with everyone?”

Everyone nodded in unison.

“Good. Then Baron, Fergus, grab your weapons and take up your stances.”

Both men took up their weapons and stances. Same as before, with the Baron sticking with the forward saber stance he ended Wolfgang’s match in, and Fergus with his hatchet resting on his shoulder and his knuckle knife hovering around his sternum. The Baron put his hands to his hips and pretended to be out of breath.

“Are you sure I can’t catch a quick break? I am getting rather old.”

Wolfgang rolled his eyes and crossed his arms.

“If you want to rest then I suggest you end this quickly, father.”

Fergus nodded towards Wolfgang.

“Aye! Stop complainin’, ya big baby! We all know folks leik us age slower than normal! Ya may be in tha tail end a’ yer prime, but that’s still yer prime!”

“50 is nowhere near my prime, but that’s neither here nor there. Alright then, I’ll see what I can do.”

Wolfgang raised his arm and looked to both contestants.

“Are you both ready?”

Fergus looked to be drowning almost any stimuli that was not the Baron. He was staring extremely intensely at the Baron.

“Aye.”

The Baron was in a much more relaxed state, nodding to Wolfgang and tapping twice on his helmet with the tip of his saber.

“Let’s get this over with. I’ve got novels to sort through!”

“Alright then...FIGHT!”

Fergus exploded at the Baron, covering the couple of feet in between them in mere seconds. Same opening as his duel with Helmut. Berzerkeris were known for their relentless offense, reckless fighting style, and blinding speed. However, their attacks were generally much more manageable when you understand Berzerkeri doctrine on ax fighting.

Their goal was not to chop through an enemy's guard and hit them with one strike. Instead, they are taught to use the ax to bind the enemy’s blade and drag it away from them, forcing them to either let go or allow themselves to be dragged closer and putting their sword in a poor position. The Baron was strong and precise enough to bait this out and punish it, which was a lot harder than it sounds.

The Baron could see exactly what Fergus was going to do: swing his hatchet to make the Baron raise his sword to parry, then catch the blade in the ax’s beard and drag it towards him. As Fergus’s ax flung forward, he moved his blade facing the ax with his wrist bent slightly forward. As soon as Fergus began to pull his ax backwards to catch the Baron’s blade, he twisted his arm to the right, pivoted his wrist down, and lunged, thrusting up and over Fergus’s guard and jabbing his throat with the tip, which forced a choked breath out of him and the Baron continued forward.

The Baron abandoned his saber, leaving it stuck in his throat if it was a real saber, and came up behind Fergus like he did with Wolfgang. He punched Fergus’s back with both fists, hitting the upper and lower back with one attack and sending Fergus, like with Wolfgang, flying forward.

Fergus leaned forward and front rolled back up to his feet, dropping his ax and touching his neck where it was hit. There was a bruise forming, and it was a little hard to breathe. He turned and stared at the Baron, along with everyone else. The Baron shrugged his shoulders slowly in jest.

“Come onnnnn. Stop staring! You said to end it quickly, didn’t you?”

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After their quick tournament, the wooden weapons needed to be fixed. Gifted Ones such as the Baron’s inner circle, minus Ludwin, are supernaturally strong, so even when they have friendly games, their weapons are left chipped, weakened, or completely broken. As the Gifted Ones themselves are generally constantly practicing warfare, they often entrust the fixing of their weapons to others. Unfortunately, this can often leave the artisans and blacksmiths overworked as they struggle to keep up with daily practice.

“You know, I wish they would just break their weapons more often, gettin’ weakened weapons back up to working order is harder than you would think. Harder than just puttin’ broken ones back together.”

Angrily mumbled master artisan Elias Handimanner to his apprentice and adoptive son, Karl Handimanner.

“They expect you to take weapons near broken, and make them not. With how repair magic works, it’s just easier to completely fix broken ones. Though, just between us, sometimes it’s extremely hard to fix certain practice weapons, so I just break ‘em and say I need to make a new one. The Baron has deep pockets and he don’t hesitate to pay top dollar for good products. And I make excellent products! And, gods willing, so will you.”

Karl responded with a beaming smile as he moved to open the door to their workshop.

“I will! I’ve got the best teacher in Bickenstadt!”

He opened the door fully and began to enter before stopping in their tracks.

“Oh, um...occupied?”

The artisans stared in disbelief at what they were seeing. An extremely well built and attractive blond man was lying naked on their workbench. On top of him, a very beautiful maid just barely with her clothes still on. Elias began to turn red. Karl put a hand to his mouth.

“Oh my...do we let them...finish?”

Elias angrily ripped off his apron and threw it at the two nymphomaniacs dirtying his workplace.

“GET YOURSELVES COVERED UP AND GET YOUR ASS OFF MY DESK!”

The blond man quickly grabbed the apron and covered his unmentionables while the maid quickly pulled her dress back up over her breasts. Elias came over and got in the man’s face as he yelled.

“UDO! WE’VE TALKED ABOUT THIS!”

Udo waved his hand dismissively in front of Elias’s face, mostly as a gesture to subtly make distance between them.

“Yeah yeah, if I did this again you would break my weapons and ruin my armor.”

Elias’s face was fully red. He was breathing heavily.

“AND YET!!!!!”

Udo nonchalantly tied the apron around him and walked out of the workshop, his clothes were nowhere to be found.

“And yet I’m still getting laid and you still aren’t, sorry. I could set you up with someone.”

The maid ran out of the room as quickly as she could as Elias started grabbing tools and throwing them at Udo.

“YOU’RE LUCKY THE BARON NEEDS YOU! WRETCH! CRETIN! MANIAC! DEBAUCHED LUNATIC!”

Udo caught a hammer flying at his head and gently set it down on the floor, slowly making his way out of the workshop as tools flew by him. A wide grin was plastered on his face.

"Yeah yeah, that's what they called me in Grossenburg too!"

Elias stormed over and roughly shoved Udo out of his workshop and slammed the door.

"BECAUSE IT'S TRUE!"