The Referee

This was a huddle with no answers. The remainder of the New Bladewolves had gathered around to discuss their approach in this final leg—only three bouts remained, and they were currently tied. But it wouldn’t be an easy match from here on out. Before that, however, they would have to manage to put aside their concerns over Isabella—a fact all of them were struggling with in different ways.

None dared say it aloud.

There’s something to be said about a team atmosphere. Knowing you are not alone and that you can count on each other makes you a lot stronger, emotionally speaking. But it also comes at a heavy price—you start to feel guilty if you bring the mood down with your concerns, however valid they might have been. And thus, the three of them all stood silent, trying to force their concerns down.

She is counting on me to do something, Fedal thought. Isabella…is she going to be okay? I—I don’t know. Shit. That many stab wounds…and—the Fake Carr is Duartes? I…are we supposed to just ignore that? How the hell can we—that’s not right! Fedal was overwhelmed by many concerns. Concern about his friend, concern about the match, concern that he wouldn’t be able to measure up to everything—and a realization that his many concerns were only likely to make everything worse. What can I do here?

If only I had defeated Johan, Valle thought, then Duartes would have been fine. Out of the group, Valle had done the best against Johan—but it hadn’t been enough. He bought them time with his own blood as payment, but even his noble blood could only afford them a few seconds rather than minutes. This had been enough for them to escape, but not enough for Duartes to escape. Valle had staked his life in an all-or-nothing gamble and barely came out on top, still carrying the wounds of that match to this day as a result. At the time he had felt triumph, but his ambition was too great for him to be happy with running away. If only he had been stronger—if only he had defeated Johan!

Duartes…I’m sorry. If I hadn’t been so insistent on fighting Johan from the start, maybe you wouldn’t be like this. Maybe we could have escaped without…no. This isn’t the time to worry. Carr felt the guiltiest, but he also felt the calmest among them. The tragedies he had endured—witnessing his friends die before his very eyes, walking in that void for an entire year…those things had hardened his resolve, he thought. He wouldn’t break so easily, he told himself. Why, he had survived that, he could survive anything, surely. Isabella lost her Devil powers…but she scored a lot of points. That’s good. If we were behind on score after that display, I don’t think we could recover.

Carr felt strong guilt at thinking of it in such terms. One of his friends had nearly died, but he was looking at it under a positive light. I have to be cold. I’m the captain. Look at it in terms of what can get us the victory…worry about the rest later. He nodded, and again reminded himself that after what he had gotten through, he could get through anything. Isabella set us up for the tie, he thought, calmly. So we can still win. We are in a position to—

ISABELLA MIGHT DIE.

His lip trembled, and Carr had to slap his own face to keep steady.

A person’s mental health does not improve through repeated suffering. It seems tempting to paint someone as hardened, stronger after a traumatic experience. Carr himself liked that narrative, and he truly believed in it. But often, you do not come out stronger from an event like that. Rather, it is more as though someone takes a hammer to the wall that protects your stability. Some people have stronger walls than others. Some people can rebuild those walls when they come down. But it is hardly reasonable to expect someone’s walls to come off stronger after repeated, direct hits.

His friends’ deaths. Coming to this world. Finding Johan again. Making new friends. Now risking losing those friends. For just a moment, he wanted to crumble. That he wouldn’t allow himself to made no difference. Though he could stand, though he could fence, his mind was elsewhere. He wouldn’t be able to focus and do his best, nor would he be able to be the captain his team needed and give them the stability they asked for.

What does a team do, when they all collapse? Who comes to rescue them?

Their coach.

“Hey—don’t go looking down now!”

The three looked up. Katherine had approached them, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Do you really have time to be fucking around? You are in the last leg of the match, you know. And it’s not like you have a comfortable points cushion to hide behind while you get your shit together.”

“Kath—” Carr started, then he stopped. I…I can’t call her that. But she looked so much like her. Acted so much like her. But she wasn’t her. And she knows that. That can’t be easy for her. “I’m—I’m sorry for losing my temper earlier. Are you…okay?”

“Physically? Yes. Mentally? Oh, fuck no,” she replied, laughing. Then, she gestured at the young girl behind her—her sister. “But I have a reason to recover…and a life to discover. I’ll be fine.” She paused. “Eventually, I will.”

“But—I—are you sure?” Carr asked. With what seemed like a monumental amount of effort, he said, “Kath—”

“I’m not Katherine,” she stopped him. “I’m…also not who I used to be either. I’m something else. Someone else. Just…just call me Kat for now, if that’s comfortable with you.”

Carr nodded, slowly at first, then faster at the end. “Kat—I can do that.”

“Some hair dye might help later,” said Kat thoughtfully. “Make me feel…me. Not whatever this is. But that’s not the point. My therapy can wait—listen up, are you just going to sit around and let things end like this?”

“Weren’t—weren’t you on that team?” Fedal asked. “Why are you trying to help?”

Kat laughed. It was a loud, boisterous laugh at first, but then it got lower and lower. At the end, her laughter seemed sad and forced. She smiled weakly at him. “Because—even if I want to help Carr. My Carr, not yours,” she said, with a strong emphasis, “I can’t let him win this match. Johan…Johan did something, didn’t he? He made me into who I am. I’m not the real Katherine. I don’t know what the details are but I just get the feeling that I shouldn’t let Johan do what he wants.”

This I watched with the utmost curiosity. Roger…what are you planning? The Katherine has broken out of Johan’s grasp now, at just about the worst possible time. This could have been avoided if you just killed her sister. Do you think you will not be punished when he finds out?

“Is—is that all you’re basing this on?” Fedal asked, blinking in surprise. “You’re turning on them just based on a gut feeling? I mean, you’re right, but that’s a lot of faith you’re placing on—”

“Don’t question it,” she replied. “I’m helping you. More importantly, let’s focus on the things we can do right now. My body is useless at fencing, it seems, but my knowledge is still there.” Kat felt a twinge of guilt at the word ‘my.’ She knew the knowledge wasn’t hers. Not at first, anyhow. “I’m going to order you around for a bit. Any objections?”

“No,” Fedal replied promptly.

Valle shrugged and said, “I will win regardless.”

Carr hesitated and locked eyes with her for a moment. She looks so much like her…would it be so bad if I just…if I just believed it was her? That she was still alive? He shook his head. Yes, it would be.

And that is what makes him different than Johan, I thought.

“Please, Kat,” Carr said earnestly. He lowered his head a little, in a deferential gesture. “I can barely focus on fencing right now. Please—give us your take on the situation.”

Kat smiled at him, and this both warmed and broke his heart. She looks so much like—NO!

There were a lot of thoughts going through Kat’s head now. Her fragile understanding of the world around her had been shaken, if not downright broken. But action is the best remedy for anything—she knew that if she just sat around not doing anything, her mood would worsen. So long as she kept moving, thinking, speaking, then she would function. Whether helping them was the right choice or not, she did not know.

But the girl with her was undeniably someone she cared about deeply. Even without any memories, she felt a strong protective instinct around her. And these people—the ones that had sided with the real Carr—had taken care of her. That was enough for her, at least for now. “There are three matches left. Let’s think about this rationally.

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“The score is tied at 29-29, and there are three bouts left. Fedal vs Max, Valle vs the Executioner, and…” Kat trailed off, and frankly I understood her dilemma—how was one to even explain the last matchup? After an awkward pause, she finished it as, “…and the anchor bout. Let’s work in reverse from here. Anchor?” she asked. Then, a measure of guilt formed in her. It’s his name. He should be called by it. I can’t let my feelings affect me right now. “Carr?” she tried again. “What kind of lead would you need to feel comfortable going into that matchup?”

Carr sneered. “Please, I’ll win if I’m five points behind.”

“Oh, don’t you start!” Kat shouted, annoyedly. “You always start with the bravado instead of just being—”

Here she stopped and they both looked down awkwardly. Carr had a habit of saying he would win his bout no matter what and that the team score wouldn’t matter. But there was no ‘always’ between those two. This was a discussion he often had with the real Katherine. These two were strangers.

But it didn’t feel like that at all.

If she had finished that sentence, Carr thought. I think I’d have played along with it. Like it was normal. Like she really knew me.

When I watched those two interact right now, even with the mutual knowledge that the Katherine was a fake, I almost understood why Johan behaved as he did. It is frighteningly easy to believe in a lie when you want it to be true, and twice so when the lie is well-told. And this Katherine was nothing if not well-crafted. Nameless and Roger make for a frightening team. Duartes-Carr might be their masterpiece, but Katherine is a rather impressive specimen as well.

“I need you to be honest,” said Katherine. “Please.”

Carr bit his lip. “Yeah…honest.” He sighed, then looked over at the piste. “That guy is as good as I am, but with stats higher than anything I ever faced before. To be honest, I could guarantee a win if I walked in about 7 points ahead. He’s much stronger than me, I suppose, but the threat of double-hits would give me the advantage and let me roll him over.” With a sudden spark of confidence, Carr nodded to himself. “Frankly, so long as the score is in our favour, I believe I can do something. If they’re ahead and he fences defensively…I don’t know if I can do much. But if you hand me any lead at all, even if it’s just a single miserable point, I won’t let him have it.”

“Good, good. We have something to work with here.” Kat turned to the other two. “You hear that? Your anchor needs a lead to finish the bout. That means it’s your job to get him that goddamn lead. This is why we’re working backwards—Valle of Cresna! How much of a lead can you get over the Executioner?”

Valle frowned and looked over at him. “I do not know for sure. The Executioner hasn’t fought point matches before, he’s merely fought to [Death]. But he’s a strong opponent to be sure.”

“Are you saying you don’t know if you can beat him?”

Here his frown turned into an expression of disgust. In a mocking gesture, he took Kat’s hand as if he were asking her for a dance. “Forgive me if my earlier declaration, my lady. If my statement was lacking in clarity, allow me another attempt. I will never lose to anyone. That’s what makes me the Champion of Cresna. Do you catch my meaning?”

“Yes, sure, whatever,” Kat replied, pulling her hand away. Not going to play along with the handsome theatre boy. I’ve made that mistake too many times in my life. No. Not her life. Katherine’s life. “But how many points can you beat him by?”

“He’s a careful fencer,” Valle said thoughtfully. “I think I would win in most exchanges against him. My plan would be to start slow, trap him in my rhythm and then raise my intensity twice. Once to score, and then when he thought we were evenly matched I’d destroy him and run up the score. The Champion’s duel must be entertaining, after all. I am quite confident things would go as I predict them. Yet…well, if I walk into the match while we’re trailing behind, I do not think he will engage me. With time on his side, he would make a frightening opponent.”

Kat drew a deep breath and narrowed her eyes at Fedal. “This is more or less what I expected. Do you know why?”

“I—not really, sorry,” Fedal replied.

“It’s how most team matches usually go. When we start getting near the end, the sheer weight of a lead becomes a lot more pressing. There’s less time to make up for mistakes, so you can’t really go slowly anymore…but going fast can lead to a lot of mistakes. Not to mention those guys are strong. Trying to force a point when they are fencing defensively is a bad idea. You get it yet?” Kat asked, her voice harsh. “Why the devil woman risked her life to score that tie?”

Isabella, Fedal thought. She…she’s almost dead. And she gave her all to keep the score tied up. Was that why she had risked so much? For this fragile game state he had to protect now?

“This means we have two plans,” Kat said, in a tone that almost struck as too frank. “The first one is simple—Fedal has to hold the tie or get us a lead. From that point on, it should be smooth sailing to the finish line. Valle can control his bout with the Executioner then get Carr a cushion for the anchor bout. The route would be to have Fedal fence offensively, then Valle and Carr can both fence defensively to maximize our chances of winning. We’re at a tie right now, so whoever grabs the lead is going to have a huge advantage. Remember, defending is easier than attacking, and twice so when you have a clock on your side. But this strategy,” Kat said, as she glared at Fedal intently, “relies on you being able to tie or beat Max, Fedal. Can you do that? ”

Fedal blinked in surprise. Max of Relampago…the man who had tied against Valle. The man who Carr had only ever beaten twice. I’m garbage compared to them, he thought, looking down. I…I want to try. But I’m so inexperienced…so weak. Even with my stats making me faster than him, can I really do anything? Max is so strong. I…I am not that good. But everyone is relying on me. It’s the only way we can win. I…I…I don’t know if I can do it. Shit. This isn’t even me being pessimistic, realistically speaking he’s worlds above me. I might be able to get one point. Got one against the Fake Carr, didn’t I? But more than that…

“Is…is there no other way?” Fedal asked weakly. “No other route?”

Kat bit her lip. “There is one. If instead of fencing offensively, we have you going out there trying to run the clock from the start…we’ve seen that Max won’t take risks if he doesn’t have to.”

“Indeed we have,” Valle said, somewhat grumpily. “I do not think he would risk an overly offensive plan.”

Fedal imagined the scenario in his head. If he walked in, trying to turtle up as much as possible, with no intention of actually scoring a single point…he could make something work. Max would score on him a few times, to be certain, but he wouldn’t score a 6-0 victory over him—3-0, or 4-0 perhaps. That seemed doable. Fedal started to breathe easier now. I can see myself holding the fort that much, at least.

“If Fedal goes offensively and loses, we have to be prepared for a full shutout. Last match ended 29-29, so the next leg is going to 35, meaning 0-6 would be the worst scenario. Now, assuming that happens, Valle and Carr—do you think you can turn the match around? Against those opponents, when they are fencing defensively, starting from 29-35?”

Both men grimaced. I can’t screw up then, Fedal thought. If I lose that badly…not even they can turn this around. That’s…that’s how important this next bout is.

Kat gestured at the piste. “But if Fedal gets out of there with just 29-32 or even 29-33—do you think you can manage it?”

“It would be difficult,” Valle conceded. He admitted the hypothetical difficulty, but his voice showed no fear of a hypothetical defeat. “It’s possible, though.”

“Same here,” Carr said, nodding a few times. “Say Fedal gets down 29-33. Next leg would go up to 40, so if Valle can bring it up to something like 38-40…I might be able to pull something off.” His frown showed he wasn’t looking forward to it. “No, fuck that, if you hand me a 38-40 scenario I promise I’m going to win anyway.”

Why am I relieved? Fedal thought. A sudden sense of shame washed over him. Why do I like the idea of losing a few points and letting the others bail me out? Shit. Why…why does it sound so appealing to just pass it over to Valle and let him try to make up for my fuckup? I’m such a goddamn coward.

“Well, captain?” Kat asked, raised an eyebrow to Carr. “The decision is still yours.”

Carr took a deep breath. Kat’s planning had been something he agreed to—something he was used to, even. Back on Earth, the one usually in charge of their team dynamics had been Katherine after all. Listening to her planning had given him time to soothe his emotions and focus on fencing. It’s not my favourite scenario, but we have to be realistic, Carr thought. I trust Valle can make up for the lead, if we choose to tank the next round. “It seems like we are all in agreement that we have to avoid a 0-6 scenario no matter what. So, Fedal, if you fence as defensively as possible—”

“CAPTAIN!” Fedal screamed.

It was such a loud scream that the opposite team, even the men in the stands had heard them. Fedal’s scream was loud, booming, but the man himself was shaking. His eyes were shadowed by his hair now, but his trembling face indicated the presence of at least a few tears. “I know,” Fedal said, in a low voice. “I know I’m being unreasonable. I know I’m being childish. I know it makes sense to follow that plan but…shit.” He looked up, and there was no hiding his tears now. Shit. I’m useless. But still—! “I WANT TO WIN! I want to be greedy. I want to fight against that guy…I want to give it my best shot. I want to see how much I measure up against him.” Shit…I know I’m asking for the impossible here…but…goddamn it.

“If you go on the offensive, everything relies on you being able to actually compete against Max,” Kat said. “I don’t want to be rude, but at our level, I believe that’s not feasible.”

“Captain,” Fedal repeated. “Please. Let me have this.”

Carr and Fedal stared at each other. They hadn’t looked at each other like this since they had first met. Not like this, anyhow—with both men staring each other down so intently it seemed like they were trying to see the back of each other’s souls. Back then, Fedal loathed the idea of attempting anything beyond his limits. Nothing scared him more than trying and failing to do something. To him, those who worked hard despite not being particularly talented were worth of mockery for not knowing their place in the universe. Yet the man who stood before Carr now…he was shaking, crying in frustration at the idea of knowing his place and stepping down. He was hungry. He wanted more.

Carr drew a deep breath and closed his eyes. Fedal had started to walk to the piste now, before receiving his last orders. Valle had crossed his arms and watched it all impassively, as if it were all an academic matter to him. He intended on winning his match regardless of how Fedal did. Kat watched it with concern—she respected Fedal’s growth (the man had beaten her after all) but she knew that someone like Max got considerably trickier to fence the later in the bout it became.

“Fedal?” Carr asked. He did not turn around before asking the question.

“What is it?” Fedal asked, without turning around either.

“Go get us a lead,” Carr ordered him. Then, after a pause, he added sincerely, “I’m counting on you.”

Fedal wanted to say many things here. Thank you was one of them. Sorry for being this way was another. Forget I said that crossed his mind as well. One by one those thoughts flashed in his mind, and he discarded them all. Instead, he shouted, “YES, CAPTAIN!” and walked onto the piste