Chapter 24 - The Fighting Duke
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An man who exhibits unkindness toward the creatures beneath his care will inevitably cultivate a hardened spirit toward his fellow humans. Thus, by observing a person's treatment of animals, we can discern the true nature and virtue of his heart.
- The Human Question by Gideon de Salavia 378 AC.
Seraphina leaned forward, panting and drawing deep breaths, her hands resting on her knees as she allowed her Stamina to slowly recover. She pointed at the monstrosity her father was battling, its roars serving as a backdrop to her words.
"Eloise... assist the knights... and my father," she ordered between heavy breaths, addressing the doll-like girl.
"But Lady Seraphina... by doing what?" Eloise asked, only a hint of nervousness in her voice.
Heavens forfend, why did she have to think of everything? Seraphina thought wearily. "Distract it with your magic... throw something at it... do something... anything, really. Just stay far back... and buy me... some time... to catch my breath. Giles... Crayton... escort my lady-in-waiting..." she managed to say.
Grimly, the two men-at-arms nodded. Eloise, unable to disobey a direct order, went to do as she was told. Almost daintily, she advanced toward a beast nearly ten times her size and weight.
The whistle of arrows and the soft thuds of their impact continued. The beast was tiring; its fronds and whip-like vines moved ever slower. This meant more and more arrows were hitting their mark, but its thick layers of muscle, fat, and fur mitigated most of the damage.
They were running out of arrows, though that little detail did not concern her father much. The big man had dismounted, unwilling to risk his expensive mount against such a beast—or perhaps simply wanting to test his mettle without an unfair advantage. The bear, as if sensing a challenger, ignored the household knights and turned its full attention to Anatoti. Her father let out a great roar, savage joy woven into the cry, and drew a heavy cavalry saber from the scabbard by his saddle.
Anatoli was not wearing the full harness of war, but he was still armored in a coat of heavy mail. Such armor would protect little against the impact from the beast's paws, but they would be protection enough against the other thorny appendages and sharp teeth and claws. Almost skipping in joy towards his opponent, the man went to fight the great bear.
Anatoli moved with a surprising grace for his bulk, his heavy cavalry saber held confidently in his massive hand. The monstrous bear, an unsettling fusion of flesh and flora, let out another deep, resonant growl. Thorny vines whipped around it, lashing out like serpents with minds of their own.
The knights formed a circle on their mounts around the two combatants, slinging their bows behind their backs and gripping their spears tightly as they rested in their stirrups. Their stance was not one of intervention but of containment, ensuring the beast had no route to escape. They understood well their lord's love for the thrill of battle—offering aid would only insult his skill and courage.
The bear lunged forward, its vines snapping toward Anatoli with lethal intent. He sidestepped the first strike, the thorny tendril slicing through the air where he had stood moments before. With a swift motion, he brought his saber down, severing the vine. A thick, green sap oozed from the wound, and the creature roared in pain and fury.
Anatoli laughed, a booming sound that echoed through the trees. "You'll have to do better than that!" he taunted, his eyes gleaming with excitement, uncaring that the beast could not understand his words. It understood the intent behind them though, and the bear responded by rearing up on its hind legs, towering over him.
Seraphina saw that the leg she had injured was more or less already recovered due to the monster’s unnatural Constitution. It crashed down with immense force, the same newly-healed massive paw aiming to crush him. Anatoli rolled aside just in time, the ground shaking beneath him from the impact.
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He sprang to his feet, thrusting his blade into the bear's side. The creature howled, swinging its other paw toward him. Claws scraped against his chain mail, the metal rings deflecting the worst of the blow but sending him stumbling back. The beast pressed its advantage, vines and claws striking in a relentless barrage.
The Duke regained his footing, parrying another thorny vine with his saber and ducking under a sweeping paw. He stepped inside the bear's reach, delivering a powerful kick to its knee. The beast faltered, and he seized the moment to slash at its shoulder, cutting deep into muscle and sinew.
The bear's movements became more erratic, its injuries slowing it down. Yet, it fought on, driven by a deep primal instinct. Thorny vines writhed around Anatoli, one wrapping around his wrist. The thorns bit into his flesh, drawing blood.
A solid ball of Earth, conjured by Eloise, struck the beast squarely on the head, momentarily distracting it and causing its control over its thorny appendages to falter.
Gritting his teeth, Antoli yanked hard, pulling the vine taut before slicing through it.
"Enough games," he growled, his patience wearing thin. He charged forward, evading the bear's desperate swipes. With a fierce shout, he plunged his saber into the creature's chest, aiming for its heart. The blade sank deep, and the bear let out a guttural moan. Its eyes met his, a mix of rage and resignation in its cloudy eyes.
But the Duke was not finished. Releasing the hilt of his embedded saber, he drew back his massive fist. Muscles tensed, he delivered a crushing punch to the bear's skull. The force of the blow echoed like thunder, and the beast's head snapped back. Bones cracked under the impact, and the light faded from its eyes as it collapsed to the ground. Its vines wilted and died as the light of life and vitality left the creature.
Silence settled over the circle. The knights loosened their grip on their weapons, awe evident on their faces. Anatoli stood over the fallen creature, chest heaving, blood trickling from the cuts on his wrist.
You have slain a Galebush Wild Brother 300 experience gained.
A satisfied smile spread across the Duke’s face, mirrored by his daughter's expression—a look he mistakenly took for pride. In truth, Seraphina's smile stemmed not from admiration for her father's achievement but from the experience points she had just earned from the creature's demise.
As quickly as she could she assigned her free attribute points to Constitution, never again would she be caught lacking in Stamina. As for her Skill point, she put that into Heal.
One of the knights brought the reins of the Duke’s warhorse to him. "A remarkable victory, my lord," he said with a respectful bow, offering him some clean cloth to wrap around his wrist.
Anatoli stemmed the bleeding at his wrist with the cloth before he retrieved his saber, pulling it from the bear's chest with a firm tug. He wiped the blade clean on the grass and the beast’s fur before sheathing it. "It was a worthy opponent," he acknowledged, glancing around at his men. "Let this be a reminder that Strength and courage prevail over any beast."
The big man was met with a roar of approval.
The man basked in the praise as a lizard would the sun. He looked toward where Seraphina stood watching, her lady-in-waiting by her side. Catching her gaze, he gave a reassuring nod. His daughter gave him a forced smile in return.
"Prepare the bear," Anatoli commanded of his men. "We shall take it back and make use of every part. I daresay that his coat will make for a fantastic rug. Tonight, we celebrate!"
The knights moved to comply, half of their number starting the construction of a makeshift sled to transport it. The air was filled with renewed energy, the tension of the battle against nature giving way to the fevered industry.
As the sun cast its golden rays, seeming to frame the victorious hero in its light, Anatoli approached Seraphina. "You see, my daughter," he said, his voice softer now, "there is no challenge too great if you face it head-on."
She smiled up at him, her expression a fixed smile. "I know that well enough, Father." Inside, she rolled her eyes at the banal piece of wisdom.
He chuckled, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "It was nothing a bit of steel and determination couldn't handle." His eyes drifted back to the bear. "Though I must admit, that was one of the more… unique foes I've encountered."
He lifted his daughter as if she were no lighter than air, ignoring her mild shriek of protest. “We will return to the castle and have a feast! You have done well this day, my little huntress!” he declared to all those present, before putting her down.
“Giles! Blow the horn and summon the men back! We need to get these carcasses back to the castle!” ordered the girl indignantly now that her father put her down.
Inwardly she seethed at the casual humiliation she had endured in front of the men. She was no child!