Book 1: Chapter 32 - The Engagement [Part 2]

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Seraphina stopped in midstride, a deliciously vicious thought coming to mind. The bones of a plan was formed.

She turned back to face the Crown Prince. "Oh, and if that is the attitude you wish to take, Your Highness, then I will be forced to assert my battle rights," Seraphina said offhandedly. "This is Sariens land, and we have acted in defense of the peace of the realm. I will see to it that the bodies of those less accomplished knights are sent back to their families, but their arms and equipment belong to the Sariens as spoils."

Sir Donahan looked as though he was about to burst. "Why, you cursed fox! How dare you try to twist the laws!" he shouted, then hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

Now it was the Prince's turn to restrain his man. "Now then, Seraphina..." Prince Vellens began placatingly, his voice almost weedy.

"It is Lady Seraphina now, Your Highness," she corrected him disdainfully. "I also believe I have grounds for a duel, as Sir Donahan has besmirched my honor with his unfounded words. I am not amused. Not amused at all. Let the Goddess decide who is in the right," the young noblewoman declared, her eyes flashing with fire.

"Are you insane? This slip of a girl..." blustered Sir Donahan. "I am a Knight of the Realm and member of the Royal Guard!"

Sir Gallant watched Seraphina, his blue eyes silently judging her response. Behind the blonde girl, Eloise peeked out nervously.

"You are a future employee who needs chastising. Accept my challenge or admit that you are in the wrong. Those are the terms I offer," the heir to the Sariens goaded.

He looked at her almost cross-eyed. "I will not lower myself to fight a woman!" he objected and in his pride forgot the latter option offered to him. Just as Seraphina wished.

"Very well, then I will have my father the Lord Duke defend my honor," Seraphina offered, delighting in the way Donahan almost deflated at his mention. It was then that she realized she could wield her father's powerful name to bludgeon people into submission; after all, he had a most fearsome reputation. "But of course, he is not here now. Sergeant Frest will instead carry my honor!" she declared with a dazzling smile.

"I will?" the Sergeant remarked, a tad put out by how things were unfolding..

Sir Donahan drew himself up to his full height, looking nothing more than a troubled peacock. "Very well then, I will enjoy putting both you and that evil-looking commoner in his place. As the challenged party, I demand that we fight to first bl—"

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"To the death, of course," Seraphina interjected dryly.

"His armor and horse will be yours, along with ten gold from my allowance," she whispered sideways to the Sergeant.

"Very well, I accept this duel! I will fight on behalf of Lady Seraphina to prove her claims in the eyes of the Goddess!" her man-at-arms declared, completely overriding Sir Donahan's protests.

Seraphina knew full well that Frest was more than capable of defeating the pompous Royal Guard. His background as a bandit had endowed him with a plethora of ruthless combat skills. Even if he failed, it would be a simple matter to eliminate the rest of the Royal Guards from a distance with her sling, even the Crown Prince Vellens if she had to. However, she was reluctant to tread that dark path.

She maintained her dazzling smile. "Very well, as the heir to the Sariens Duchy, I will bear witness to this duel." She paused for a moment, taking the time to sit on a nearby log the forest had kindly provided for her. The crows in the trees cawed their applause as if sensing an impending event. "You may begin!"

Frest did not need to be told twice. Unlike Donahan, who held notions of chivalry and honor in high regard, Frest was interested in one thing only: winning—and the prizes that victory would bring—a fine horse worth about ten years' pay, and arms and armor worth about the same.

He charged at Sir Donahan, who had barely enough time to draw his longsword. At first glance, Frest seemed at a disadvantage. In terms of equipment, his armor although of good quality was not the equal of a Royal Guard's. He made up for it with the cold ferocity of his attack.

Sir Donahan steadied himself, raising his longsword in a defensive stance. His eyes narrowed as he assessed Frest's approach. The Royal Guard was a competent fighter, trained in the art of swordsmanship and battlefield tactics. He anticipated a straightforward clash, but Frest had other plans.

Closing the distance swiftly, Frest swung his mace-flail, its solid head aiming for Donahan's ribs. Donahan sidestepped, parrying the blow with his sword. The clash of metal echoed through the clearing, as the chain wrapped about the blade. Frest thought to rest it from him, but the Knight was skilled enough to push forward, shoulder-charging Frest and disentangling his weapon. Seizing the moment, Donahan followed up with a diagonal slash aimed at Frest's shoulder.

Frest raised his purloined heater shield just in time, the longsword’s blade glancing off its reinforced surface. Without missing a beat, he counterattacked with his own weapon. The spiked head whipped around Donahan’s guard, landing a glancing blow across his helm.

Donahan pressed forward, launching a series of precise thrusts and slashes. His technique was impeccable, each movement a testament to his training. Frest, however, was unpredictable. He switched between using his weapon as a mace and a flail, keeping Donahan off balance. He fought dirty—showering the Knight with taunts to distract him, kicking up dirt to blind him or trying to grapple or trip the Knight to the ground.

"Fight honorably!" Donahan spat, frustration creeping into his voice.

"Honor doesn't win fights," Frest retorted with a wicked grin.

Prince Vellens looked as if he wanted to say something to Sir Gallant, to command the pillar of martial might to intercede. Yet, even the inexperienced Vellens recognized the somber sanctity of the moment unfolding before them—a sacred offering to the gods, an act inviolable. A death promise between two men.

It was doubtful at this point that Gallant would even obey his charge. His was a duty to protect the Prince, not his fellow Knight in a duel of honor.