“A duel?” Edwin asked into the shocked silence. “Why would we ever accept that? We have the upper hand!” He paused, suspicious. “We don’t have to accept, right?”

Theodor shook his head. “We do not. It would allow us to subdue the enemy without bloodshed, however, so I thought it prudent not to turn down the challenge outright. Lord Ambertris offered two hours of armistice for considerations, and I countered with one. He accepted.”

“It would be nice to win without fighting,” Asher mused. “We will win, but not without losses. We should at least give it due consideration.”

Edwin scratched his chin, eyeing the lord doubtfully. “Well… can you take him?”

A smile crept onto Lord Theodor’s face, a rare sight on the serious and reserved aristocrat.

“You know, I wager that I could. I might not be a great warrior like you gentlemen, but I can hold my own in a contest of blades. Lord Ambertris on the other hand seems like his interests are more… culinary rather than combative. Now that you mention it, I am almost chagrined that I will not get the opportunity to cross swords with the man.”

“Duels like these are fought by proxy,” General Asher explained. “Ambertris will have one of his men fight for him, and we will do the same. Theodor, do you have someone in mind?”

“I am afraid not,” Lord Theodor said, shaking his head ruefully. “Most of our lords are Lidions, and our family style is of little use in a formal duel. A few are from allied families, but I know of only one accomplished swordsman among their number – Lord Kelev, who stayed behind in Artelby.”

Asher nodded and turned to the gathered commanders. “We have over a thousand men, there should be a trained swordsman or two among them. Let’s find out who our best fighter is, then we can decide if we want to accept the challenge.”

As the officers hurried off, Firetail approached Asher.

“Something is off,” the spy told the general in a quiet voice. “I can’t put my finger on it, but I smell a trap. I have a hunch, but I need to speak to the scouts who first spotted the enemy convoy.”

Asher frowned but nodded and waved over an attendant. “Whatever you need. No matter what we decide, I’d like to make damn sure that we’re not playing into their hands.”

The attendant hurried off, Firetail in tow, leaving only Asher, Edwin, and a few others. Realizing Bordan had already gone to quiz the other adventurers regarding their sword skills, Edwin decided against standing around uselessly and followed his friend. What should’ve been a simple question became much harder than it needed to be, as most of the adventurers hadn’t trained under some fancy instructor or had been taught their family’s own style by their father but had learned the blade in the training yard of the guild hall and out in the wilds, slicing up direbeasts and goblins. When Bordan made the mistake of mentioning that this wasn’t the kind of experience they were looking for, he lost control of the conversation. Many adventurers considered their way of fighting vastly superior to anything “a prissy noble with girl hands could do” and were raring to prove their perceived superiority.

By the time Bordan had calmed the waves and gathered the short list of names of adventurers with formal dueling backgrounds, half an hour had passed and the other commanders were already back with the general. Salissa and Leodin had grown bored in the meantime and even Amos had made his way forward from the supply wagons, so the five of them rejoined the meeting together.

“My best has four years of dueling as a teen, then seven years of fighting experience as an adventurer,” Bordan told Asher. The General nodded, gesturing to second battalion’s commander. “That means Colonel Meller’s man is our best option. One of his cohort commanders, Captain Jesset, is a sword master third class.”

The captain in question was a middle-aged man with short brown hair and a small scar on his chin. Edwin had seen him in passing, but he’d never learned his name.

“Really?” Bordan said, sounding impressed. “So we’re actually considering accepting the challenge?”

“We’re definitely considering it,” Asher said. “We got incredibly lucky. Sword masters don’t exactly grow on trees, so it’s fairly unlikely that he has someone of equal skill.”

“But why would Lord Ambertris challenge us if he isn’t sure that he can win?” Edwin asked.

“To gain time,” Bordan answered. “He knew that we were about to win, so we didn’t have much reason to accept, but every minute we don’t attack gives his men time to recover. Even if Lord Theodor had refused outright, it would’ve given them an extra minute or two for the negotiations to be done.”

“I don’t know,” Edwin said, frowning. “Seems risky.”

“They were about to be crushed by a superior foe,” Colonel Meller offered. “What better time to take a risk than in the face of certain defeat?”

“Sure, but they’re not really preventing defeat, are they?” Edwin said, thinking out loud. “If we accept, then because we have a good enough fighter to win the duel and they lose. If we don’t accept, our troops also get time to recover from the forced march, we wait until the armistice is over and win anyway. What’s the point?”

Before they could continue their musings, they were interrupted by a shout.

“Urgent report!”

A scout was running towards them, his heavy breathing and the sweat pouring down his face evidence of his haste and the distance he’d travelled.

“More enemies to the north!” The scout slowed down, catching his breath for a few seconds, then straightened up. “We’ve sighted another Marradi formation heading our way from the north. At least six hundred soldiers with minimal supplies. They’re approaching quickly, less than an hour out!”

“Damn it!” Meller hissed. “Ambertris was playing for time! He must’ve sent someone ahead to call for reinforcements the moment they spotted us!”

“Where would this many soldiers even come from?” Meller asked, brows furrowed. “Our last intelligence put Archer Hill at four hundred soldiers, and no other Marradi outpost is close enough!”

“I assume that they increased Archer Hill’s contingent when Artelby came under siege,” Asher said calmly. “Either way, it seems that our plan has met an unexpected impediment. We cannot attack Ambertris’ formation for another half hour, which only leaves us with twenty minutes to crush him completely and reform our defenses to weather the attack of the reinforcements.”

The gathered commanders cringed. Victory was assured, but they had hoped to either drive the tired Marradi to surrender or encircle them and slowly grind them down. Pressing this hard against an enemy who was holding out for reinforcements would incur several times the casualties, and there would be another battle to fight right after.

“Well, the dueling option just became a whole lot more attractive,” Meller grunted, glancing sideways at Captain Jesset.

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“Let’s not be hasty,” General Asher said, turning to Salissa. “I know we only have you and your companion as magical support, so I hesitate to place this on you, but if you have any brilliant magical solutions to our situation, now would be the time.”

Salissa cringed. “Assuming that they don’t have any mages of their own in either force, we could join the melee and create breaches in their formation, but neither of us has learned the new fireball spell. Offensively, short-range fire and telekinesis is all we can offer. It would take us out of position to provide shield coverage, however, so we would need to be sure.”

Her assessment was met with silence. Finally, Asher turned to Jesset. “How certain are you that you can win?”

The captain straightened. “I’m a sword master, General. I may have lapsed in my training since joining the army, but I am confident that no duelist who hasn’t mastered the blade himself can best me.” He paused. “Of course, I am unable to make any guarantees, especially without knowing my opponent.”

The general turned back to the others and opened his mouth when their deliberations were interrupted by a shout once more.

“It’s a trap!” This time it was Firetail. The portly spy was jogging towards the gathered officers, two scouts following after him. All three wore grim expressions.

“Explain,” Asher said as Meller stepped aside to allow the spy into the circle.

“It’s the flags,” Firetail explained. “Marradi nobles are extremely proud of their heritage and fly their family colors wherever they go, even while with an army formation. I studied the flags they’re flying, but none of them stood out to me. Just to make sure, I spoke with the scouts, and it turns out my hunch was right. There was one flag that was flying while they were unaware of us but that was taken down after we were spotted. A red crane on a white and yellow background.”

The listeners exchanged confused looks, but Firetail didn’t wait for them to ask.

“It’s the family crest of House Vonochev. You might not have heard of it, it’s not particularly powerful or influential, and its holdings are in the far south. They’ve been staunch supporters of the dukes of Marrad since before the Exile. Back then, Marrad was using honor duels extensively to further their agenda, and the Vonochevs were their pet duelists.”

Captain Jesset was looking sick. “Anyone in the dueling scene knows that name. In the last thirty years, at least twenty of them a Vonochev has held the title of Marrad dueling champion – and their competition is much fiercer than ours. Do we know who it is?”

“No,” Firetail admitted, “though there are only so many it could be. Whichever it is, all men of age in their family are at least sword masters third class, if not higher. The current holder of the ducal championship is Vonochev’s eldest son and heir, a man named…” Firetail paused, grimacing as he racked his brain, then he let out his breath explosively. “I don’t recall right now, Fjodor or something. If it is him or his father, we would be facing a sword master first class. One of the best duelists on the continent.”

All eyes turned to Captain Jesset, who shook his head vigorously. “I haven’t dueled since before the war, and even at my best, I would’ve doubted my chances against the weakest of Vonochev’s. Their style is already superior to mine, developed solely for dueling and refined over hundreds of years! I’m sorry, General, Lord Theodor, but if one of them is Lord Ambertris’ fighter, I have no chance of winning!”

“Two traps in one, then,” Asher sighed, hanging his head and rubbing his eyes. “I’m loathe to give credit to a Marradi noble, but this Lord Ambertris seems to have gotten the better of us. We either choose one of two highly disadvantageous options… or we retreat.”

Meller nodded grimly. “They won’t be able to chase us very far. Ambertris’ men are still tired, and the reinforcements are too small to challenge us on their own. They will likely join together and march north to Archer Hill.”

“Which will then be held by over a thousand Marradi, making it much harder to assail,” Bordan finished.

“All we have to do is crush them quickly,” Edwin growled. “I don’t see the problem.”

“We’re not all freaks like you,” Bordan answered quietly. “The rest of us shouldn’t be fighting at all right now, let alone recklessly throw ourselves into a defensive formation. Sure, we might win, but we would likely lose most of our people. All that for a battle that ultimately isn’t all that important, tactically speaking.”

Edwin balled his fists, wishing for something or someone to punch.

“What is it with these stupid dueling rules anyway?” he grumbled. “Who decided that it has to be swords?”

“The people who wrote the Noble Pursuit,” Amos answered from behind him. “The sword was considered the most dignified and honorable weapon, and it was the one that all the nobles learned. It wouldn’t have made much sense to pick another.”

“Edwin turned around to glare at the young noble. “That was rhetorical. I figured it would be something stupid like this. But since you’re here anyway, can’t we shorten the armistice somehow? If we had more time…”

Amos shook his head. “It was agreed upon by Lord Theodor, Ambertris would have to agree to a reduction – and why would he?”

“Great,” Edwin growled, “so this Marradi cunt has us by the nuts.”

His friends were looking at him in surprise over his unusually crass language, but he didn’t care. One of Walter’s most prominent character traits that Edwin had inherited upon his birth was that he absolutely hated being outsmarted. How could he not – he was the greatest mind in centuries! Lesser men got bested, Walter was so far above them that the thought of losing alone was ludicrous. Even if he had to break the most sacred laws of his kind, even if he had to die to achieve his goals, Walter won!

The flames of his anger froze into a cold determination, almost detaching him from what was happening around him. There was a problem, and problems had solutions. “Amos, you’ve studied the Noble Pursuit extensively. Surely those sleazy aristocrats left themselves all kinds of loopholes, or maybe a technicality or two we can exploit.”

Amos frowned, but he shook his head apologetically.

“Come on, think! Is there any aspect of this whole thing that gives us some wiggle room? The time of the armistice. Who fights the duel. The choice of weapons. The—”

“Wait!” Amos held up a hand, his eyes slowly growing wide. “I think I have an idea. Come with me!”

He grabbed Edwin’s hand and pulled him along as he hurried around the circle of deliberating officers, some of them looking up with curiosity. Having rounded the clump of soldiers, Amos arrived next to another blonde man who was watching the discussion with a frown.

“Uncle Theodor!”

Lord Theodor turned, looking at the approaching Amos in surprise.

“Amos? What is it?”

“Edwin here just gave me an idea! He was asking about why the duel had to be fought with swords, and then I remembered! There is one type of duel that doesn’t have specific weapon requirements!”

Amos’ insistent tone of voice got the attention of Asher and a few of the other officers who turned away from their discussion to listen in. Lord Theodor frowned, then his eyebrows shot up.

“You mean a True Duel.” He paused for a few seconds, thinking it through, then shook his head. “It is a good idea, but I would have to propose an alteration of the initial challenge, and there is no reason for Lord Ambertris to accept it. A regular duel serves their purposes just as well.”

“True,” Amos said, his mouth widening into a smile, “but it’s not just Ambertris. Firstly, they don’t know that we know they have a sword master, and secondly, there is no way a Vonochev passes up the opportunity to become champion!”

Lord Theodor’s eyes widened again, and this time he smiled. “I am impressed that you remembered such an obscure rule. You are right, it should apply to our situation, and I share your doubts that a Vonochev could resist the temptation. Good work, Amos!”

Amos basked in the praise, but his uncle interrupted his preening. “Still, that they need not fight with a sword does not prohibit them from doing so. Even with free choice of weapon, we would need someone who can best one of the continent’s top sword masters in a duel…”

Amos stepped aside, looking up at Edwin with a shit-eating grin. Theodor, Asher, and the rest of the crowd followed his eyes until everyone was staring at him.

This is it, Edwin thought. The crossroads.

Ever since he was born, he’d struggled to stay in the shadows. His top priority had always been to not get noticed, to keep his head down and be anonymous. He’d done an exceptionally poor job at it.

Right now, with a crowd of senior officers and nobles staring at him, he had to make a choice. Did he continue pretending that he hadn’t already failed, that he wasn’t so far beyond anonymity that there was no coming back, or did he finally face the reality that he’d been suppressing for months head-on?

I have maybe a year before my growing power becomes too obvious for even the most gullible idiot to overlook. I can spend that year either making a fool of myself and endangering my friends, or I can stop holding back and maybe actually change the type of place the world is going to be once I’m gone.

He looked inwards. What do you think?

It’s not my place to tell you what to do, Walter answered, his mental voice without emotion. It is your life. You know the rules: Protect what I am, but live life as you. You need to ask yourself: Who are you?

Who am I? Edwin thought, a grim smile spreading across his face. I am me. I am Edwin, and I think it’s high time people learned what that means.

“I hope he brought his entire damn family,” Edwin growled, unshouldering his glaive and cracking his neck. “I’d like to at least work up a sweat.”