“You know, I’m perfectly capable of putting my armor on by myself,” Leonard said amusedly.
Oliver kept fretting around him, carefully polishing every piece until it shined and strapping them on, batting away Leonard’s halfhearted attempts to help. Neer smirked at him from the side.
“I never get to do actual squire stuff. Let me have this,” The boy grumbled, critically eyeing the magical metal as if it owed him money.
With a sigh, Leonard decided it wasn’t a fight worth having. He knew Oliver trusted him, more than anyone else probably, but now that the time to get ready for the duel was coming, he was succumbing to nerves.
Leonard wasn’t fussed about it. He respected Vikar Genus for his long career and dedication to his duties, but he was also more than certain he’d be able to handle everything the man could throw at him, especially since he didn’t seem the type to do anything underhanded.
Not that he hadn’t prepared some insurance should his assessment be wrong. Belinda’s death had stripped him of that naivety. He wouldn’t allow anyone to do what was done back then. That sense of pure helplessness still haunted him to this day.
“I still don’t get why he agreed to this. He must know you are stronger than him. It reeks.”
Leonard patted Oliver’s hand reassuringly, “So far, you’ve only encountered the worst example of nobility. The scum that takes from those they should protect, that suckle all the resources for themselves like parasites. But nobles are not unidimensional. There are various types, and while the good doesn’t justify the bad - and Vikar Genus is not even the best noble - we should treat them as they are rather than what would be convenient for them to be.”
Seeing that the message hadn’t arrived, given Oliver’s wrinkled nose, he tried again, “Vikar Genus, like most martial nobles, is a hard man with little compassion in his heart, and yet he’s also the kind of person willing to walk to his death without hesitation if it means adhering to his principles. He’s not good. He won’t help his people beyond what is requested of him, but he’s also not evil. An old paladin like him who fought for decades in the Death Pass must have seen the worst humanity can offer. He’s steeped in blood, which is why he clings so hard to duty and propriety. Those are the easiest things to use to distinguish the civilized from the barbaric.”
“It still sounds stupid to me. If he was really honorable, he would have come out of his castle to help us after the Incursion. It’s impossible he didn’t know the condition the southern towns were in.” Oliver countered, closing the last strap of his gloves.
“There is a simple answer to that. They weren’t his jurisdiction.” Leonard laughed at the boy’s incredulous look, “Yes, that’s enough for him. He took care of the few people that call him their lord and served as a bulwark between the area overrun by the Void and Treon’s region. No one among the local aristocrats would ever dare say he didn’t do his duty.” Neer snorted harshly but didn’t interrupt, allowing Leonard to conclude his lesson.
“Then it’s their entire logic that’s faulty. How can anyone consider themselves righteous when they allow so many to die in misery?” At Leonard’s knowing look, Oliver blinked and then released a sound of realization, “Which is another way aristocrats show they are rotten from the inside. If even the best examples of their values are insufficient, the entire system must be scrapped.”
Leonard smiled proudly and stood up, reaching over to pat the boy on his head. Amused, he allowed Oliver to duck before walking over to where Dyeus was stashed and clipping it to his belt.
“Alright, enough chatting. I have a duel to win.”
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The wind blew over the open field, rustling the grass and creating tiny waves on the river’s surface. A light cloud cover obscured the summer sun, granting the two duelists protection from the heat.
Leonard walked with measured steps toward the middle of the field, his polished armor gleaming under the muted rays. Behind him, the Revolutionary army stood at parade in neat ranks, their camp having been removed in a show of support for their Grand Marshal, implying they thought it impossible for him to lose. The disciplined silence was oppressive. Thousands of eyes stared down the enemies of the Revolution, showing just how committed they were.
On the opposite side, the gates of Fort Genus were open, and the entire household watched with bated breath. Vikar Genus, clad in old-school paladin armor, stood waiting. His expression was grim, but a gleam in his eyes told Leonard the old man wasn’t counting himself out yet.
The contrast between the two was stark: Leonard, the youthful Hero bringing new ideals and significant change, and Vikar, the seasoned veteran who had dedicated his life to his land and duty, who’d put his life on the line to keep things as he thought they should be.
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As Leonard approached, Vikar inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect. Leonard returned the greeting, acknowledging the gravity of the moment.
“Sir Genus,” Leonard began, his voice carrying across the field. With this many witnesses no one would dare say the stakes were not clear, but it always paid to be careful, “We stand here today to settle our differences honorably. The terms, as we’ve discussed, are clear. If I win, my army will gain passage through Fort Genus, and your household will be taken as noble prisoners, treated with the honor befitting your station. Should you prevail, we will withdraw and leave your lands in peace.”
Vikar nodded, his expression unchanging. “Indeed, the terms are clear. The victor will be decided through death or complete incapacitation. Let there be no misunderstanding. I will personally strike down anyone who attempts to interfere with the results.”
With a final nod of agreement, the two men took their positions. Leonard studied his opponent carefully. Vikar’s armor was traditional but meticulously maintained. His stance was firm, his grip on his sword steady. There was no tremor of old age, no hesitation. If this was a duel between equals, there would have been a real chance he’d have died. Leonard could see the determination etched into every line of his face. The old paladin was ready to fight to the death if necessary, and Leonard knew he had to be equally committed, if only out of respect.
There was no need to wait to begin as there was no impartial arbiter that could be called, but Leonard still allowed his opponent the first move.
The old man shot forward, sword glowing with Holy mana in a decapitating strike intended to end the duel immediately.
Leonard allowed the weapon to pass harmlessly by his side, Light bubbling up into his limbs to accelerate his perception of time.
Just as Vikar turned around, [Anointment] and [Halo of the Righteous] settling over him to grant supernatural strength, Leonard took Dyeus out of its sheath. The Sky Blade’s very nature as a divine artifact made it so that any faith-based energy that came into contact with it would disperse, ceding to its much greater rank, but Leonard actively prevented this effect from taking place. This duel wouldn’t be won because of who had the better equipment.
The two combatants clashed in the middle of the field, and a shockwave exploded from the point of collision.
He’s enjoying this. I might have to up the ante a bit if he has the time to grin so widely.
Using his greater size, Leonard pushed down, forcing Vikar to disengage lest he be forced on one knee. The paladin then pivoted, bringing a rotating hand forward with the momentum, which was slapped away before it could touch Leonard’s armor.
By the hissing of the air around it, he was able to deduce that [Corrosive Touch] had been used, which would make sense as it was an old favorite of the Whiteguard stationed west to fight the barbarians who so enjoyed fist-fighting.
Not wanting to leave the initiative to his opponent any longer, Leonard feigned a grab for the extended limb, which the old man facilitated by stepping forward, almost offering it, only to bring his sword to bear once again in a smooth movement.
Vikar escaped the predicament by exploding the ground below his feet with a blast of unfocused mana, rolling in the air to reorient himself. Leonard didn’t allow him the time to get his bearings, and the moment his opponent touched down - he wasn’t foolish enough to present an opportunity to leverage the fall - attacked again with heavy strikes.
Vikar handled it better than he thought, redirecting enough strength to avoid being thrown around by his superior strength, though it took all his skill and attention, as he couldn’t find a way to disengage.
By now, the lush field around them had become barren. Leonard was tangentially aware that the sheer amount of mana they were outputting was enough to kill a civilian through simple exposure and felt grateful he had insisted the army stay back.
Not seeing a need to prolong the fight longer than necessary, he stepped up the tempo. His sword, already a blur of deadly motion, became invisible to the observers. Vikar let out a roar of frustration, pushing even more mana into his buffing spells and deliberately overcharging them.
Leonard was honest enough to recognize that the old man deserved his fame. Even with a significant disparity in raw power, he kept pulling tricks and skills out of his bag to last a little longer.
While he himself had used [Halo of the Righteous] on thousands of targets at once - something the teachers of the Whiteguard considered all but impossible - he didn’t know if he could push the spell to such heights for a single target. He had never needed an enhancement of that level, after all, but it was still impressive to see a master at work.
Unfortunately, it couldn’t last forever. Slowly, the spells began to flicker under the strain, their underlying framework warped too far from its origin and kept together only by sheer stubbornness. Leonard could tell that the old man still had mana to spare, but the pace at which he was going wasn’t sustainable for long.
“This is over.” He said, even as his strikes were redirected or barely avoided. He could have upped the ante again. He could have begun casting with his free hand to overwhelm his opponent in a flash, but he was enjoying the sword fight and thought it would be a pity to have to kill such a talented fighter.
“It isn’t over until I die,” Vikar growled back, and even the action of speaking took enough from him that Leonard could have slipped a strike to his neck and ended it.
“Surrender and join me,” Leonard replied determinedly. In a movement significantly faster than those before, he stepped forward into Vikar’s space, avoided the expected ray of Light that burned the air, leaving a flaming trail in the sky, and brought Dyeus down in a heavy blow. He didn’t slow it as much this time, deciding that if he was forced to kill the man, he’d first draw out everything he could do.
As he expected, Vikar responded to the attack with a speed far surpassing what he had shown so far. Leonard grinned and began attacking with much more vigor.
The two clashed against each other for several more minutes, Leonard not going beyond the simplest spells and focusing entirely on swordplay. The old paladin wasn’t so restrained, ranging from elemental magic meant to destabilize Leonard’s footing to conjuring a hail of holy rays from behind, which he used to go for the kill rather than regain his breath. The cuts he accumulated as he desperately fought also kept healing, showing just how good he was at manipulating the Light. Almost a century of use had made him an absolute terror.
By the end of it, Leonard was full-on grinning. It had been a long time since he had such a good fight. He hadn’t used all his power - nowhere close to it - but his personal skill, yes, that he had put it all to use.
Out of respect, he didn’t keep the fight going once he saw his opponent falter. He delivered the fatal blow, cutting Vikar Genus from shoulder to hip with the Sky Blade - which guaranteed there would be no coming back. While Leonard had limited his usage to avoid tainting the fight, his sword wouldn’t allow a lesser user to heal from a strike meant to kill.
Watching him freely bleed out with a smile on his face, Leonard didn’t bother asking again if he wanted to surrender. He wouldn’t disrespect the old man like that.
“It’s over,” He declared, voice rumbling over the silent field, “I have won!”