David was still undecided on whether or not this was a good idea when he reached the fencing school of Eoforwic. Since Greg had been bitten, he had rarely taken the time to practise with any type of sword. On the other hand, he had been to Eoforwic for a month now, hoping to do what Morgulon had asked him to and keep an eye on the duke, but hadn’t spoken to him once. Mostly because George Louis had been up at Mannin until a couple of days ago and on his return, he had brought his son. This was a perfect opportunity to accidentally run into them.

George Louis would absolutely get a kick out of finally beating him in a fair fight.

Not that David intended to let him win, if he could help it. There was such a thing as pride, after all.

He left his coat with a servant and picked a light foil, blunted and wrapped for safety, from the rack of practise weapons, before he walked into the main hall. The heart of the school smelled of sweat and iron and was echoing with the clashing of steel, the cries of the stricken, and the shouts of an umpire. To one side of the room, a class of youths was practising under the watchful eye of an instructor, the rest of the floor was mostly filled with gentlemen who were either going through their routine alone or in twos. In the middle of the hall, a duel was in full swing. Only for sport, as far as David could tell, not for honour and death. Most importantly to David, the gossip he had picked up turned out to be correct: It didn’t take him long to spot where Duke George Louis was teaching his young son, but David didn’t make any attempt to place himself close to them. Instead, he picked the corner furthest away from them and began on his own routine.

He was rusty, indeed, but not as rusty as he had feared. He should be still able to take on George Louis – unless, of course, the other man had improved a lot since they had last sparred. Not with this foil, though. It was a decent weapon for warm-up, but it didn’t sit right in his hand.

He walked over to where more practise swords were lined up, deliberately crossing George Louis’s line of sight, but pretending to be too focused on his foil’s balance to notice anyone around himself.

George Louis froze when he spotted him, giving his son the opportunity to score against him. David had a hard time keeping a straight face. Maybe Morgulon was right. Maybe he could use the duke’s current infatuation to influence a few of his decisions.

Like a common concubine. Except that he was unlikely to even get sex out of this, because George Louis was sure to lose interest, once he had won the prize he was after.

David sighed inwardly and reached for an old-fashioned sword foil, both longer, broader, and a lot heavier, weighted it in his hands and put it back. Too unwieldy. He passed over the new Valoisian epee, which was made for sport or at the most, duelling until first blood was drawn rather than to the death. Finally, he found a blunted Colichemarde. Now, there was a proper weapon. Still not his first choice – for one, it was a little short for David’s taste – but if it hadn’t been blunted, David was positive that he could have used it to gore a wild boar.

“You’re just as bloodthirsty as I remember,” George Louis said behind him and reached for the epee David had passed over, offering the hilt to him. “Care to help me give a demonstration to George?”

“Are you teaching him to defend himself or how to impress girls?” David asked and eyed the offered “sword” with disdain.

“He’s too young to impress girls, which definitely makes him too young to be handed a sword made for killing,” George Louis gave back calmly. “He’s not going to go out at fourteen to kill werewolves.”

David huffed, but accepted the duelling sword, tested its balance. “Fine,” he said after a moment and turned around to properly face George Louis. His son was still waiting where he had practised with his father, a boy of about eight years. His black hair showed that his mother had been from Valoir, but his skin was nearly as light as his father’s. The contrast made him look wan and his stick-thin wrists didn’t help. He looked like one good hit with the foil he was holding would snap his arm.

His expression, though, was one of eager excitement, as he watched David and George Louis approach.

“My son,” the duke said. “Prince George. George, I’ve already told you about the Honourable David Feleke.”

“You’re the werewolf hunter,” George promptly said.

David nodded.

“Are there any in Eoforwic right now?” George went on, eyes wide. “Is that why you’re here?”

“There are a few werewolves here in the city, yes,” David said. George Louis had mentioned it, but he still hadn’t expected the prince to be quite so eager. “Unfortunately, they aren’t safe yet to be around.”

The last group of criminals who had volunteered for a bite were being kept in the basement of the Lackland Railway Company’s headquarters, locked up in sturdy cells. Officially, that was why David was in the city, though of course there was nothing he could do that a bunch of guards couldn’t do, too. They just had to wait and see how the newest group turned out.

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“But can’t I go see them with you? That would be safe, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s for your father to decide,” David said.

George Louis smiled wryly. “We’ll go visit the railway soon, as I promised you,” he said. “I’m sure it’ll be far more interesting to see them doing their job, rather than watching them mope around a prison cell. That’s not why I asked David over, anyway.”

He flourished his own epee and Prince George stepped out of the way promptly.

“You didn’t warn me not to embarrass you in front of the kid,” David muttered and took a couple of swings with the sword George Louis had handed him, to get a feel for the weapon.

“I have no doubt that you’ll try, no matter what I say.”

“True,” David admitted and took his position.

George Louis did the same and looked at his son. “Do you remember the Valoisian commands?”

“En garde,” George said promptly. David grinned, but took the proper stance.

At the next command, the boy stumbled over the Valoisian pronunciation, but when David and his father both answered with the salute, he went on: “Allez!”

David grinned even wider when George Louis lunged at him right away, obviously hoping to catch him off guard. He parried the thrust easily.

“You should teach George the Loegrian commands,” he said, as their blades beat against each other.

“I will,” the duke replied, and lunged again. David managed to bind his sword a second time, stepping aside and out of the way easily, just to advance himself. George Louis barely managed to avoid his attack.

So the duke had improved – or David was slower than he used to be – but not enough to completely bridge the gap.

“Anything specific you want me to demonstrate for your son?” David asked, parrying a flurry of attacks.

“We were working on footwork,” George Louis replied. He was sweating already.

“Very well,” David said, and began to exaggerate the way he switched from one stance to the next, adding an unnecessary flourish to each step.

“I hate you sometimes,” the duke muttered when he barely managed to deflect David’s next thrust.

“Are we even keeping score?” David asked and followed up with a flick of the dull blade that touched George Louis’s upper arm.

When George Louis didn’t answer, David added: “I had forgotten how much fun this is.”

When they connected the next time, George Louis managed to surprise him with a false attack, which led to a series of wild back and forth, that had David’s breath quicken, too. For a moment, he dropped the exaggeration, but he returned to it once he had brought some distance between himself and George Louis. He toyed with the duke a little longer, before finishing their duel with a lunge and a feint that ended with his weapon’s blunted point at George Louis’s throat.

The duke glared at him but recovered quickly. “If nothing else,” he said, turning to his son, “this should show you the dangers of challenging a fencer you know to be out of your league.”

“Will he teach me, too?” the boy asked, eyes wide.

“In a few years, maybe,” David said. “Once you’ve mastered the basics.”

He had never taught anyone outside of his own family, but this could be another avenue to curry favour with the duke. Perhaps.

“Another bout?” David asked.

When George Louis shook his head, a stranger smartly stepped forward and bowed with a flourish.

“Gerard Helm, Sir. I couldn’t help but notice that you are a follower of the Loegrian school of fencing,” he said, and offered David the sword he had considered before George Louis had approached. “If you fancy a friendly match, I would be happy to pit my skills against yours.”

David accepted the proffered hilt with a bow of his own. Helm went ahead to the middle of the room where the umpire was still standing. A circle had been marked with chalk on the ground, and a few people were already forming an audience around it.

“Bit of a crowd,” David noted.

“You did just beat Duke George Louis in a quite – striking – fashion, Sir,” Helm pointed out. “May I ask where you are from?”

“Deva,” David said. “You may have heard of my father, Baron Abraham Feleke.”

“The werewolf hunter? That would make you one of the famous Feleke Four?” When David nodded, Helm added: “I would have thought a hunter would prefer the crossbow.”

David just smiled, and they took positions on opposite sides of the ring. Helm was a better duellist than George Louis, and David actually lost their first bout. He won the following two, though, so the umpire declared him the winner of the match.

Helm took it with sport. “Will you be around in the future?” he asked. “There are few swordsmen of this level coming here.”

“You’ll likely see me around,” David confirmed.

He returned to the corner where he had first started his training, and finally began his old routine. He wasn’t surprised when George Louis and his son stayed until he finished, even though it took him another hour. George Louis failed miserably at trying to act casual when he bumped into David as he returned his practise weapon.

“Where are you staying?” the duke asked.

David was fairly certain that George Louis knew exactly where he was staying while in Eoforwic, but he replied: “Father acquired an estate last year, just outside the village of Brines.”

Brines lay south of Eoforwic, and had just last month gotten its own railway station. David couldn’t help but wonder if his father had somehow known about this, from Eyal perhaps. With the station close by, the estate was suddenly worth twice what Bram had paid for it last autumn, when they had been looking for a safe place for Greg to wait out full moon. And that probably even included the money he had invested in both the building and land since then.

George Louis wanted him to stay in Eoforwic for dinner, unsurprisingly.

“Another time,” David said.

George Louis looked like he was about to argue, then glanced at his son and nodded. “Another time. I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’m sure you will,” David said dryly.

“Oh, and swing by the Company tomorrow, will you?”

David nodded. That was an easy promise to make, as he visited the company headquarters every day, to check on the new werewolves. He waited until George Louis and his son were out of sight, before he allowed himself to grin.

Getting the duke’s attention certainly hadn’t been hard.