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Fears of public embarrassment immediately flared at the mention of a duel. As far as I could tell, only my relationship with Charitybelle and my melee skills gave me legitimacy in leadership. I couldn’t imagine why anyone would listen to me without a reputation for being the town’s best fighter. But Fabulosa wouldn’t want to be the governor. “Do you mean a fight in front of everyone?”
“It can just be us—or just in front of Dino. Someone should referee.”
This strange comment gave me pause. My suspicions worked in overdrive. “Why do you want Dino there? Has he taught you a special move?”
Fabulosa laughed and shook her head. “No. And if he did, do you reckon I’d waste it in a duel? Remember, I’m fixing to whoop you good when we reach the final two.”
“Hah. That happens to be my plan, too, but you know—in reverse.” I smiled at her bravado but turned my thoughts inward, searching for a reason for the request.
She studied me while I mulled over the proposition.
At last, I guessed her motives. “You figured out how to use the Phantom Blade!”
Fabulosa nodded enthusiastically. “I did. Or rather, Dino did, and he helped me. It’s been our secret project for the past few months.”
“Really?” Her tenacity with the troublesome weapon impressed me, but my enthusiasm felt half-hearted. With the Phantom Blade, I harbored doubts I could take her. I could beat her regularly in practice bouts, but exercises involved highly constrained limits.
But the battle arena provided a safe environment for duels with actual weapons and spells, which Dino forbade during class. When a duelist reached 1 health point, it magically protected them until they performed a Rest and Mend. And outsiders couldn’t kill participants. We hadn’t tried a no-holds-barred confrontation since Belden—which hadn’t ended well for me.
Aside from dinner and officers’ meetings, I had seen little of Fabulosa these past few weeks. Had she been practicing the whole time?
“Why do you want to do this? Does it have to be so formal?”
She shrugged. “I want your best. You know how I respect your skills.”
Something about this still wasn’t sitting well. “What are you not telling me?”
Fabulosa innocently rolled her eyes and batted her eyelashes. “Let’s just say I’ve gotten a mite better with the Phantom Blade.”
“But you’ve already said that much. And Dino’s been helping you?”
She nodded.
“So you’ve dueled him?”
Again, the mad grin returned.
I gaped at her. “You beat him!”
She nodded so hard that her hair bobbed.
The feeling of the floor disappearing made me swoon. Before me sat a contestant in the Great RPG Contest that might very well win. I’d never beaten Dino in bouts, exercises, or drills. The man moved with machinelike perfection and never tired—I’d assumed it to be impossible.
Old fears of losing the battle royale returned, an apprehension I’d not felt since my first days at Belden. Worries about going to college saturated my thoughts. She’d bought the Phantom Blade from funds from the ward worm’s cylinders—so technically, I enabled her. Would audiences of Crimson’s reality show mock my foolish generosity? I could already see my aunt and uncle shaking their heads in disgust.
“When do you want to do it?” I felt numb asking the question.
Fabulosa shrugged her shoulders. Her casual nature disheartened me. When I didn’t suggest a time, she said. “We can go now if you want.”
“Belden Rules?”
Again, Fabulosa nodded. Belden Rules meant no cooldown—just a test of weapon skills. We avoided spells and excessive abilities in the arena, for Dino disapproved of them. But forgoing abilities or magic usually had been my advantage.
Since I had nothing to prepare, dueling now made the most sense. Scheduling one for the future would drive me crazy with anticipation. I wanted to see what Fabulosa had in store.
“Let’s do it.” I stood so suddenly that Beaker raised his wings, searching the room for signs of trouble. “You aren’t going anywhere. The arena is no place for griffons.” I dismissed him in a puff of green vapor, and some diners glanced to see what brought the commotion. I rarely unsummoned my Familiar because every minute he spent in Hawkhurst counted as a minute he grew under Forren’s fertility buff—clouds of green smoke were a novelty.
Thanking whatever gods presided over incurious NPCs, no one followed from the town hall. Like politicians deciding matters in smoke-filled rooms, this proceeding would be closed to the public.
I reminded myself that Fabulosa could have only ranked her slashing skill to 30, the battle college’s limit. She could have reached it by dedicating her training to slashing weapons but doing so made her a one-trick pony. If she beat me, she could only do so with her saber. Unfortunately, The Book of Dungeons offered no ways to disarm opponents.
The Hawkhurst weapons trainer greeted me with open arms and an unbuttoned shirt. I’d never seen him after hours, and displays of his hairy chest weren’t a reason to pick up the habit.
“For what auspicious occasion does the governor grace Dino Marcello de Piane’s Battle College?”
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I grunted in irritation. Time away from practicing thinned my tolerance for his banter. “We’re here to test out Fab’s sword. She says you’d be a fair witness.”
“Moi? A judge? I am flattered the lieutenant governor would decree it so.”
“Patch and I want to duel in the arena. We figured you’d like to referee.”
“Of course, mon cheri. I shall most humbly accommodate your every wish. Am I to understand you wish an unfettered bout—one which unmasks the superior combatant?” He scrutinized me as if I’d somehow been cheating the entire time in his classes.
I leveled a cautionary glare over my waning patience. “Fab.”
Fabulosa caught the hint and crossed the floor. “Hon, let’s see if we can do this without critiques. It wouldn’t be fair if your insight gave me a leg up.”
“But of course! An open duel is weighty as black ironwood soaked in vinegar. Excess chatter debases the ritual, so I shall be silent. One might be fooled to think me a mime.”
I turned to him to see if Dino had finished his monologue about being quiet, and he nodded as if to confirm.
Fabulosa and I popped off Heavenly Favor and rushed each other with our weapons. If she wanted my best, I would give it to her.
She bore her Phantom Blade and Reinforced Tortoise Shell while I met her with my newest weapons, the Hammer and Wall of Might. I missed using my Black River Cudgel, and it felt good to wield a bludgeoning weapon again.
I feigned a jab, which she raised a shield to block. After spinning the hammer’s pommel into her face, I connected for a respectable 44 points of damage. The hammer’s armor penetration forced through 30 points, so her armor gave little protection.
Fabulosa spun out of the attack, something Dino taught us never to do, slashing my arm for 28 while taking another hard bump from my hammer. She surprised me by not applying a Rejuvenate as if to suggest we eschew healing and perhaps spell casting—letting melee have its day.
I wasn’t so cavalier. My heals produced more effect than hers, an advantage I wasn’t about to squander. Ribbons of golden sparkles covered me. I planned to draw this fight over a long haul, but little did I realize this exchange represented the apex of my performance.
My cast of Rejuvenate made her smile, yet she didn’t heal herself. Pride had always been her vulnerability. How did the saying go? When an opponent is about to make a mistake, a wise warrior lets them.
Arms crossed, Dino struck a commanding pose of focused concentration. As a referee of a friendly duel, he had little to do but arbitrate, but his watchful eyes consumed every movement for an extensive postmortem.
Things went well until the Phantom Blade’s illusionary attack kicked in 6 seconds into battle. I’d fought a possessed version of Fabulosa in the naga dungeon, where the illusions worked to my benefit, but it worked against me here.
At first, Fabulosa looked out of sync with the extra arm. After superimposing her sword arm onto the phantom, she broke the pattern by mirroring the afterimage. The effect looked like an attack from both sides at once.
Unblocked attacks risked a higher chance of critically hitting, but a lucky guess blocked the real blade. I couldn’t believe my chances of blocking her attacks stood at 50 percent. I had to improve, or this duel would end quickly.
She synchronized and diverged into another form, this time striking low while the Phantom Blade’s illusion struck high. Again, I parried the correct thrust. Next, she put her blade down in a chopping motion while the illusion aimed at my chest.
Remembering her past attacks took all my concentration, and I stopped jabbing in order to follow them. Being conservative bought me time to learn her system—or so I thought. When Fabulosa cycled back to the left-right swipes, I forgot which side held the actual weapon and incurred a 68-point crit. The next attack involved vertical movements. Instead of mirroring, she broke the rhythm by wrenching the blade upward in a slash.
She reversed her motions every 6 seconds—the same length as the phantom blade’s delay. The pattern amounted to little more than the canned sequences we learned in Belden, one she couldn’t improvise with changing conditions, so I picked up on the rhythm and made a predictive attack.
Much to my surprise, she withdrew, never allowing me to catch her off guard during her progression.
Soon, she abandoned the form entirely. One blade swiped left while the other swung down. The next jabbed at my chest while the phantom performed the upward slash. When I tried to evade an illusory jab to my face, I took another critical blow on my blindside—getting hit made tracking the actual sword easier until she synchronized with the phantom. The overlapping technique proved as effective as a three-card Monte dealer.
Though she returned to canned moves, she staggered them into an asynchronous pattern. Worse yet, every time I dodged both attacks, it sowed doubt about which blade was genuine. Every withdrawal gave her time to scramble her sword arm and reset her cycle.
Meanwhile, my preoccupation with her offense faltered my attacks, and I hesitated when opportunities arose.
Tricks like Slipstream, Transpose, and Anticipate produced negligible success against this avalanche of attacks. When I hit 1 health point, a yellow-white shine covered my skin, and I fell cross-legged on my backside with a Rest and Mend buff icon in my peripheral vision. My combat log noted the end of the duel. Fabulosa, Hawkhurst’s level 30 lieutenant governor, had defeated me with only a third of her health pool missing.
To his credit, Dino said nothing when I turned to him. He only bowed and raised an arm toward Fabulosa. Dino spun and returned to his private apartment, and it occurred to me that the battle college seemed like a lonely place with no one to teach.
Fabulosa’s eyes teared with joy, and knowing she held me in such high regard would have been complimentary were it not for my recent whooping.
The first time we fought, I’d learned important lessons. This bout served the same result. My goose would be cooked if I couldn’t beat players with melee attacks. Too many high-level spells involved channels, dependent on tanks and companions to give me space.
Fabulosa pursed her lips so tight to contain her grin she risked a nosebleed.
“I am impressed—very impressed.”
She gallantly sat on her knees, performing an unnecessary Rest and Mend so I could save a little face. Cradling her saber, she consoled me. “It’s only because of this sword—it’s doing everything. But, Patch, you have no idea how much potential this thing has. I cycled through only three sequences. After fighting you, I realize I need to improve my transitions.”
Her self-deprecating comments hadn’t softened the sting of defeat.
“It wasn’t all hardware, Fab. You worked hard to pull that weapon off. Congratulations.” The fight drained me, but I maintained an upbeat expression for her benefit. Even though I felt like I’d come in second place in the contest, knowing that she’d mastered her blade made me proud of her. If she won, I could always claim I partnered with her for much of her journey. Her copious direct damage spells meant she could beat me from near or afar.
More than ever, I wanted to use my purple core on a weapon. I needed to catch up.
Fabulosa closed her eyes and whispered to herself in a silent benediction. I’d seen the mantra whenever I snuck into casinos back home. Gamblers performed a prayer whenever they made a lot of money and wanted to extend their wave of good luck for just one more bet. Watching her inner monologue gave me insight into her competitiveness. The dedication unsettled me. She wanted to win this contest as much as I did—an admission I’d never allowed before. Was this something new, or had I missed it all this time?
“I still have to work on my feints—since that’s basically what this saber is all about.”
“I dunno, Fab. You seemed pretty good to me.”
“But you weren’t watching my footwork. Dino still beats me most of the time. He can tell which arm is real by following my feet. He’s teaching me how to fake my attacks better. The only drawback is fake footwork weakens my blows, but it’s the safe way to fight as long as time isn’t a factor.”
I shook my head at the thought of her getting better. It felt like we’d come to a crossroads. I’d grown accustomed to winning bouts in the arena and didn’t mind losing for a change, but news that she’d beaten Dino still shook me. “So, what’s next?”
Fabulosa breathed out a long exhale and spoke with forced concentration. “I’m aiming to forge a cape. I’ve got a purple core burning a hole in my pocket, and I can’t wait to see what it creates.”