Valle

It hurts to walk. It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. It would hurt worse to put on a bad performance. This was my stage and I would not sully it with a coward’s approach. Godslayer’s wounds had not healed perfectly. My wounds would not reopen right now but they were still quite painful. Would they ever heal completely? Irrelevant. All that matters is the man in front of me.

My goals were twofold: to beat this man and to make it entertaining. This was no different than any other duel I had in my life before this point. What was different was the presence of a Legendary Skill…what was his skill? What did he do? The crowd had come under his control…right now they stared at us dead-eyed, and such was their lacking in mental clarity I fully believe they would even have clapped along to one of the South Sea Company’s plays, had one been present. Disgraceful.

I had no experience fighting against someone with Legendary Skills. Anyone among the very few who possessed those was quickly enlisted by the royal army, that I managed to avoid such fate was still my greatest feat.

After a deep breath, I smiled. Why am I overcomplicating things? It matters not if they have the strongest skill. It will not work on me until they have landed a strike. All I need to do is win. How bad is this fight?

[Mauro the Actor]

[Level]: 20

[Swordsmanship]: 815

[Sword]: 320

[HP]: 92

[Skills]

[Restoration]: 12

[Swimming]: 142

[Fire, Burn!]: 1294

[Voice]: 461

[Acting]: 39

[Investigation]: 102

[Art]: 47

[Language]: 203

[Blessings]

Johan’s Favour

[Curses]

Johan’s Favour

[Equipment]

Reven Rapier

[Status]

Normal

I needn’t have peeked at his numbers to know thusly: this creature before me was an awful actor. Yet this too was fine: it was not duty of the antagonist to cast a shadow upon the lead. Let my skill speak for us both. “Strike at me, demon!”

And strike he did.

The gentleman—Mauro was his name—lunged at me, rapier fully extended. His stats are much higher than mine. In that case—!

COUNTER-SIXTE!

It had taken us a few weeks out at sea to arrive here. During that time, even injured, I made sure to drill every bit of fencing knowledge Carr could share with me. With [Photomemory] I memorized his lessons and all it was left was committing it to my body—a task most difficult. Yet what was a champion if not the one fated to accomplish all that was hard?

My parry was functional but I did not riposte. Rapiers are quite long, and I parried the tip of his blade far too early—even if I committed to a riposte and lunged at him, he would have ample time to dodge. I’m used to practicing against Fedal, Isabella and Carr…none of them have rapiers. The reach is completely different. I need some time to adjust my mental reach.

Yet he did not step back and I did not riposte. We remained in that uneasy position, me in en garde position and blade binding his, while he stood just slightly too far for me to commit to an approach, foot having landed and centre of gravity shifted forward.

“To fight under uncertain terms would be most folly. What d’ye declare, adversary? To points or [Death]?”

“Your death is my goal, but not the contest's. You fight on my terrain: the stage, and as Such I must, in the spirit of fairness: to points we will fight, as you do, Champion, to Five!.”

He expects me to surrender if I lose. Madman, he was. Madder still was I, for I had no intention of betraying his expectations. Losing to Carr had shamed the title of Champion enough; were I to lose to this creature right now I would have no choice but to rid the world of myself. To points, then, but with the loser accepting death. Just as well. “Your kindness I accept, yet you misspeak, adversary!” I recovered forward, my back foot going toward my front rather than the more common inverse, bringing his blade that I had bound in sixte high up in the air, and stopping with my own steel merely inches from his face. “The stage is not yours, it is mine.”

Hereupon it would have been easy to deliver a strike and gain the early lead, but instead as he jumped back in retreat I too jumped back and allowed distance between ourselves to build. It would not do to deliver a strike like this. “To five points!” I thundered.

The dim candlelight disappeared, and in its place came two heavy spotlights from above. We stood at perfectly even distances from the very centre of the stage, and only it was shadowed in darkness. Spotlight, bright but focused, followed our bodies as we moved. Our blades extended in darkness, just outside of each other’s reach.

I noticed the [Eye] floating above us. It had been a while since I saw it…the almighty judge. This will be an official duel, then. “AND SO GOD PROCLAIMED!” I exclaimed. “That the duel was to start!”

Fortunately, Carr caught on to my stage direction. From the crowd, he projected his voice and shouted, “En garde! Prêtes? Allez!”

And yet no explosion followed. Both me and Mauro watched each other carefully. Stats beast, he is, but he knows not to rush in. Johan must have warned him. A terrible, incomplete thought overcame me for a second: what if Johan had…rapier….no, surely not? So terribly fast were my thoughts then, fuelled by the rush of battle, that I was not consciously aware of my own conclusion. Yet something inside of me screamed: finish this fight fast.

I had a [Swordsmanship] of 735, and fought with a [Sword] of 0 so as to not get taken aback by dissonance, the sword magnetism. His total amount was 1135…not long ago, this sheer difference would have made me give up before the fight had even started. Not so now. Our difference is a mere 400. Carr defeated a man with nearly 900 more than himself in the Executioner…am I supposed to be intimidated at this? Should I not be able to handle half of what he did?

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

But then, was my current fencing even half of Carr’s fencing ability? And if Carr was the one here instead of me, could he beat someone with 1135 more [Swordsmanship] than himself? It mattered not. For now, I had to look back at my fencing lessons.

“Remember, I’m mostly teaching you épée moves,” Carr had said. “These don’t work well with a rapier.”

“And why not?”

“Because of the weight distribution. It’s impossible to move a rapier as fast as an épée, so there’s rapier specific techniques to keep in mind. For example…”

Ah, sure…it was impossible for someone to move a rapier as fast as an épée or a smallsword in Carr’s world. Only, he forgot, we were in my world.

Mauro was faster and stronger than me. This was an immutable fact, given our difference in stats. But if he attacked the wrong target this wouldn’t matter. Ah…how fun this is…Carr, is this what you feel like all the time?

I rushed at Mauro and ducked underneath his blade. This was not a passata sotto, the move Carr had used against the executioner—it was the offensive variant. Here instead of merely ducking as the opponent rushed in I was the one who initiated the offensive and ducked under his blade as he raised it in a counter.

This was not classical rapier work, as Carr had taught me. It was épée bladework, that Carr had warned me against trying. The rapier was too heavy and unwieldy for someone to do aggressive bladework like this, not to mention it left you exposed to counters. Not so, Carr. Not for me. [Swordsmanship] was like a puppet master, lifting up the sword for me and moving according to my mind. And my [HP] protected me in case of a bad hit. This is my own style of fencing!

Valle — 1

Mauro — 0

My blade went through his stomach, but the man’s [HP] was high enough he did not appear mortally wounded. Perhaps some 13 [HP] of damage, but it did not much matter. This was a match for points, not death. The rapier was a long, awkward weapon in close range fighting and not all the [Swordsmanship] in the world could change this: while it could cut, it was mostly a thrusting weapon, and once we were both this close to each other we had no choice but to try to take a step back so we could stab each other properly.

I jumped back and it was here that I made a mistake: I was slowed down by pulling my sword back, and even not accounting for that the man was faster than me to begin with. He was ready to lunge before I was, and as I retreated, he used a clumsy, desperate thrust that scratched my shoulder and produced a loud explosion through and behind my shoulder.

Valle — 1

Mauro — 1

Ah…what amazing craftsmanship. I wonder what [Skill] was used to construct the Majestic Theatre. In spite of the explosion created by his steel, the walls remain undamaged. I wonder, do they use this special resilience to incorporate explosions into their plays? Ah…how I want to see a play held here…

The attack hadn’t done terrible damage to me, but my [HP] had gone down and my shoulder was bleeding profusely, with a coin sized hole through it. Fortunately, it wasn’t my sword arm, and somehow it hardly seemed pressing compared to the marvel I felt at the theatre’s architecture. What wonderful advancement in the art!

Looking up, I could see how the curtain system was rigged, roughly. A heavy set of bags of sand connected to a pulley device of sorts kept the curtains raised. Another set of ropes, perhaps connected to the background props, appeared like it would raise the background upwards once the curtains had fallen. In other words, once the curtains were raised, the stage props would be lowered and vice-versa. What a wonderful system! Were [Skills] used or was this simply a feat of engineering?

My train of thought was interrupted by a blade that came all too close to slicing my neck. I’m too weak…I have to remember I’m not fighting the thousands of opponents with less [Swordsmanship] than myself that I am used to. I have to focus… It was a hard adjustment. It had been easier against Johan due to the sheer terror I witnessed, but against this single person it was more difficult.

He hit me once and I don’t seem to have become under his control yet. So I assume the activation trigger extends beyond that? But to what degree? My Legendary Skill triggers after two hit….the Longswordsman assassin’s skill triggered after one…what about him?

I needed the information to continue this fight. “Villain! I offer an exchange!” I shouted.

We were a decent distance away from each other now, as I had retreated from his attack just in time. “Speak, cretin,” said he.

“I will give you my word as Champion of Cresna that I will not activate my legendary skill during the duration of this duel. In return, I ask you do the same.” It was unlikely he would agree, but it was possible if he was afraid of my skill and confident enough in his victory without it…my reputation of honour was well known. He would know he could trust me.

“I swear it!” He exclaimed, smiling broadly. “I will not activate it until the end of the duel!”

“Let it be, then.”

I attempted at [Investigation] but he blocked it with his own [Investigation]. That was fine. He agreed to that very quickly…I don’t think he would keep his word at all, but that smile told me a lot. It was the smile of “of course, but…” that merchants gave you when you asked for conditions that favoured them. I had my suspicions before, but this reaction confirmed it.

His skill likely needed five hits to trigger. Mauro himself had been the one to offer a match to points—poetic, maybe, but also a matter of practicality. After five points, I would be as good as dead. And if I won five points first, he likely was not intending on merely surrendering himself to a villain’s ultimate fate. This was a rigged game from the start, of course.

This suited me just fine.

What Valle of Cresna wanted was not fairness—it was a show. He could have any advantage he wanted if he was helping me set up my stage. I would never use Legendary Eyes in a duel, anyhow. That strikes me as unfair.

“Fall, villain!” I shouted.

He put his arm forward to stop my advance. Good. I expected this, and I used a beat sixte attack on his blade, meaning to knock it out of the way. Stronger he might have been, but if I used the forte of my blade against the foible of his, no amount of strength could keep the tip of his sword up. Then, an attack to the chest after that, followed by—

Mauro disengaged off my attack.

Hereupon I leaped back numerous times. We were still inside each other’s distance and he had made no motion as to show a sign of attacking, but here my wordless fear materialized into a terrifyingly real existence:

JOHAN HAD TAUGHT THEM TO FENCE.

Not a lot. I could tell that this man was a beginner still in most aspects…Johan likely hadn’t taught him anything beyond the basics. But the man knew a disengage…and now that I paid attention to it as well, his footwork resembled a shoddy en garde stance. Feet closer to diagonally spread than in a true L-shape, but back foot still pointing sideways.

This is bad. I was working under the assumption we had a difference of 400 but that my fencing skill was far greater than his…

A loud thunderous laugh echoed and reverbed in the auditorium: Mauro now stood, a few more steps away from me, half wielding his sword, and still managing out a mocking clap. His manners extended such that he aimed the clapping at the audience as well, so they could get the full effect of his mockery. At least that. “You understand now, Fiend with the Rapier?My lord Christened thee such, and asked of me: break not only his bones, but his very pride. Allow the fleeting fancy of victory. Then fell him with your superior fencing!”

His laugh echoed for a second longer, then stopped when I softly whispered, “That’s eleven. You broke meter.”

His silence felt deadly and I loved it all. “Your lack of formal training betrays you—mayhap you need a scriptwriter’s assistance, adversary? Until now, you maintained ten syllables per sentence. Strange meter, that one, for you hardly focused on stressing words—iambic, y’were not. Still, consistency may be poetic, after a fashion. Breaking it, as well, but only for good reason. Here it was merely your incompetence.”

I opened my arms wide and projected my voice at the crowd—at the ghosts of people, at those whose minds were not present. “Fear not! For Valle of Cresna shall compensate you with a world premiere to an event in history!’

Here I started to bounce in place, as Carr had done against Duartes.

“Bouncing footwork is very good for épée,” Carr had told me. “You should pretty much always do it unless you have a very good reason not to…like being taught by a coach that will yell at you if you do. But for rapier, it’s a bit different. I’m all for bouncing, but there’s a good argument for not doing it ALL the time.”

There most definitely was. I could understand the argument. But it did not apply to me.

Mauro had more [Swordsmanship] than myself—but I had better fencing. True, he was not wholly ignorant of it, but that hardly changed things. If I want to become World Champion, am I truly meant to fear a man like this? NO!

Godslayer’s wounds ached. They hurt more than the fresh wound Mauro had delivered unto me moments earlier. My [Swordsmanship] kept my movements crisp, but I knew my body was not in perfect condition. This would have to end quickly. That was fine as well.

Hey Carr…watch this very carefully. This is a style that couldn’t be born from someone who just used stats. It also couldn’t be born from someone who didn’t. Watch it very carefully and commit it to your memory…the style created to defeat you!

I used a rapier, true, but the naming scheme worked better this way: it was meant as provocation, and not even aimed at the man in front of me.

“Welcome, all,” I shouted, “to épée 3.0!”