Chương 23: Dead Men Win No Duels

Silence ruled the tent following Asgar's question. But then, it wasn't really a question, and everyone knew it.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Hendry started, but the Lance cut him off.

"Silence now, my lord." The Knight shrugged great golden pauldrons, reached up to twirl his waxed white moustache, and regarded Asgar with a considering sapphire stare.

"Piddlebottom, was it not?" Asgar flinched just to hear the word from the man's mouth.

"Yes."

"Burned down, did it?" He nodded, teeth clenched.

"But not by itself."

"No," Asgar growled.

"Not by itself." The Lance sighed. He turned to Lady Valentia.

"I didn't see him blaming me. Honestly, that's a shock. If I was to deny any involvement, or even any knowledge, I don't suppose you'd believe me, would you Asgar?"

"Corpses don't lie."

"Very frightening," The Lance replied dryly.

"I think you'll find they do though, especially when necromancers get involved, but your scope is rather limited so I shan't blame you for the misapprehension." He looked to his companions on either side with another sigh.

"But still, we have questions. I don't suppose you're inclined to give us answers now, are you?"

"I'll give you answers."

"Oh, well. Splendid!"

"… if you duel me for them."

"Ah." Asgar grinned, and it was a fell smile indeed. With as much venom as he could put into it, he said; "I challenge you to a duel, Sir Rupert."

"Oh dear."

"This is an outrage!" Lord Hendry shouted, bursting from his chair.

"You make a mockery of the chain of command, and now think to challenge one of the peerage? As a peasant?"

"My lord, please—" Lady Valentia began, but her protests were lost beneath the man's righteous tirade.

"I'll have you flogged for this. I'll have your corpse stripped of rank and left in the midden heap! You ungrateful cur, I'll—""He has a class, Lord Hendry," Valentia cut in, again with the force of magik empowering her words. He spluttered.

"Such a challenge cannot be ignored. It has been witnessed by two Knights, and now, by the ancient laws of Ardentia handed down by Avarron himself, answer must be given."

"We do not know a pittance about this peasant's class—­""And you'll know nothing more if the coward refuses my challenge!" Asgar shouted.

"Kill me if you want, but you'll never find out who backed me or what they wanted. Can you risk that?"

"I'll not be blackmailed by a common soldier," Lord Hendry spat, face red. Asgar laughed. Now that events were in motion, his fear had drained away and he was left to see the pathetic charade this all was. Beneath all the bluster, Lord Hendry would do nothing without the sanction of the two Knights by his side, and they were happy enough to see blood spilled for their answers. They were complicit, after all.

"Fine. I'm not a soldier anyway, just a farmer. So what say you, sir noble Knight? Gonna accept my challenge, or die running like the coward you are?" The Golden Lance looked sad more than anything.

"I see what you are aiming for, young man, but I simply cannot understand it. Yes yes, you think me complicit in some sordid affair, but really, what are you expecting me to do here? If I was involved, then I'd surely leap at the chance to kill you here and now and tidy up loose ends. If I'm not involved, then you'll die for nothing."" If you can kill me," Asgar hissed, trying for intimidation. His blood was now beginning to dance.

If the man dallied any longer, Asgar was liable to activate blood rage and kill him sitting behind that stupid desk, rules or no.

"And why should I? To protect my ego? Asgar, dear, I've killed hundreds of yapping dogs in my day. You know this. Why do you think I'd struggle to ignore your barking, too?"

"Because you want to know how I got my class. And you're a black-hearted bastard who won't mind killing for it. So back yourself, Golden Lance, and finish the job your soldiers couldn't."

"Very well," the Lance said, standing. Asgar was struck, suddenly, by how tall the man was. Almost a match for himself. And his shoulders were broad, his complexion hale and hearty. As the Knight strolled around the table to stand before him, Asgar had to admit that two hundred years didn't slow him down in the slightest. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Some terms then," he said.

"To first blood?"

"To death," Asgar countered. The handsome Knight offered a dolorous shrug.

"Are you so keen to die for this?"

"To. Death."

"Very well," he said mildly.

"Witnesses?" The two other nobles rose and took position at either side of the tent.

"Witnessed," they both said in unison. Asgar found himself surprised at their solemnity. Every previous word from Lord Hendry's mouth had made Asgar want to punch him in the face, but now he seemed to put aside his sneering and his prejudice, and stand quietly to one side.

"We'll fight here," the Lance declared.

"Are swords acceptable?" Asgar just grunted. …

"Do you have one?" the Lance prompted.

"He can use mine," Lady Valentia offered.

"Well then, that's about it, I think. Lady Valentia Silverspire, as a member of the royal house, can observe and officiate. A good old-fashioned duel to the death. It's been a while, but I daresay I remember how to do it." Asgar stalked over to Lady Valentia and accepted the sword she offered. Its hilt was bejewelled, with an amethyst (of course) sitting fat and smug at its pommel, the grip slender and made for one hand.

He snatched it from her, ignoring the sad look she gave him, and turned back to the centre of the tent. Its blade was only a hand-and-a-half long, thin and pointed. Perfect for duelling, but it was clear from the way he held it that he had no fucking clue how to fence. The Lance drew the blade at his hip, and it was equally clear that he very much did. The broadsword sung as it cut the air a few times, its gleaming tip flickering like the tongue of a serpent as it danced before him.

It came to rest pointing straight at Asgar's chest.

"Right then," he said, stretching one arm over his head lazily. The point of his sword never wavered from Asgar's heart as he did so.

"Now that the formalities are out of the way, it is time for you to answer our questions, young Asgar."

"Not until we fight," he growled.

"I'm afraid I must insist."

"Why?" His pulse was pounding, fingers tingling as they rippled on the hilt. That calm had long since departed, and while he felt no fear, his body was still reacting to the coming violence.

"Because there isn't a necromancer of good repute in the entirety of Western Ardentia, and I simply don't have time to hunt one down." At Asgar's visible confusion, the man smiled a sad little smile, and explained as one would to a child; "I need the answers before I kill you, dear boy." Asgar swallowed thick, sour spit. Lady Valentia had said the man was weak. He thought back to the thousands of burning bodies, the lethal grace with which the Lance had swung off his mount.

His specialty is crowd control, Asgar forcibly reminded himself, even as the gleaming tip of the blade winked at his heart. He can be killed by a sufficiently overwhelming opponent. If Asgar was anything, it was overwhelming. He took a breath and prepared himself to die.

But he knew, he knew with every bone in his body, that even a lethal strike with that shining blade wouldn't kill him immediately, and if he could get his hands around the man, empowered by Blood Rage and Hallowed Strike, the Golden Lance wouldn't survive either. That was enough.

"Ask then, and be quick."

"How did you get your class?" Lady Valentia asked.

"No no," the Lance said.

"We've already been over this. Young Asgar swore an oath to some spirit or other, and was granted a class on his quest for vengeance. I am more interested in how he met the queen."

"Yes, who was your backer?" Lord Hendry asked excitedly.

"Don't have one," Asgar shrugged. The noble looked like he'd start another tirade, but luckily the Lance interrupted.

"Explain."

"I don't have a backer. I don't have a sponsor. God gave me this class, because he believes my mission is just. I kill you in the name of Avarron today, sir Knight," he said mockingly.

"A class direct from Avarron himself, is it?" The Lance asked, though he sounded unsurprised.

"And as for your sponsor—""I told you I don't fucking have one!" Asgar snapped.

"Now can we fight or are you gonna kill me with words?"

"The young and their patience," the Knight chuckled.

"When did you meet the queen? Valentia is a very devoted scholar on these sorts of things, and she has no recollection of a Squire being raised from one of the border towns in the west."

"I never met the queen." For the second time that day, Asgar's pronouncement met silence.

"What do you mean?" Lady Valentia asked, but the Lance had gone still as a statue. The tip of his blade had barely moved before, but now it was riveted in space. His regal features, normally so expressive, were as carved from granite.

"I never met the queen. She didn't give me this class, Avarron did. That's how I know this is right. That's how I know this pathetic, golden, prancing, cunt is full of shit." Asgar restrained his shout with great effort.

"God has given me power to kill this man, and in His name I will take my vengeance. For my village, for my family, for all the men and women and children butchered on his orders." Asgar raised the slim sword to point right at the unmoving form of the Golden Lance, who replied in an eerily calm voice, "if you have a barrier skill, Asgar, activate it now please." That was all he heard before the tent exploded in movement. Lord Hendry threw something sinuous and silver his way.

Armour of Averron was mid-formation, rising up his limbs to sheathe him in dark majesty, but before the helm could close around Asgar's head, a golden blur slammed into his shoulder and he was thrown backwards. Lord Hendry lunged for the tent flap. Lady Valentia was suddenly there in his way, her blade ripped from Asgar's own hand and buried in the man's chest in a heartbeat.

A rune of shining blue rippled across the surface of Hendry's breastplate and a copy of him appeared next to the scene, pulling itself free of his shadow. It too lunged for the entrance, but the Lance's golden hilt staved the copy's head inwards with a blow that shook the tent with its force. Lady Valentia was shouting, Asgar's head was ringing inside his half-formed helm, and the Golden Lance was striding his way, bloody sword held loosely over his shoulder.

"Well here's a hellacious mess if I've ever seen one," the man said, squatting on his haunches in front of Asgar.

"I dare say this will cost me, but I've been looking for an excuse to kill that fellow, and it looks like you've just given me one. Saved me from the consequences, too. Funny that." He reached out to brush a strand of dark hair from Asgar's face. It was matted with blood, and it was all Asgar could do to moan in anger as his limbs refused to respond. His vision was dimming, the world narrowing to that amused, saturnine face looking down upon him.

"An oathbound vengeance class from one of the new gods, hey? Grow strong, young Asgar, and if I may be so bold as to offer some advice from one killer to another; grow fast. Come and find me when you're ready. We're overdue a little conversation, you and I. Good luck." Then he reached forward and tapped Asgar on the forehead. The world went black.