by Eric Ugland
“I will offer up my titles as well,” a knight from the back of the group said.
“And mine.”
And just like that, all sorts of cries of support rose up. Everyone offered up their titles so I’d fight Sinclair.
Everyone, that is, but Caticorix, who remained silent. Smiling like an asshole, but silent.
I shook my head. Disbelief. I stood to gain 42 titles, including one principality, six counties, 11 trade routes, 22 baronies, one Chevalier, and one Fürst, whatever that was.
“Guys,” I said, “really? All this for—”
“Silence, you blaggard,” Caticorix said. “Either accept the duel or deny it and accept your fate.”
“What’s my fate if I deny it?”
“Ridicule and loss of honor.”
“I’m fine with ridicule—”
“Beggin’ your pardon, my lord,” came a call from above. One of the guards was leaning out and waving at me. “Loss of honor will have some real detrimental effects on getting new followers and certainly on follower morale.”
“How do you know this?” I asked.
“We was tasked to oversee plenty of duels against the Emperor. Champions and the like. Something we got to know. That much being offered to you means a big hit to honor if you refuse.”
“Well shit,” I said.
“If you like, you can ask a champion to stand in for you.”
“No. If someone is going to be killed for Coggeshall, it’s going to be him,” I said, pointing at Sinclair.
I closed my eyes and went through the terms of the duel one more time. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t missing anything, that there wasn’t some bizarre line that let Sinclair back out or his buddies jump in. Then I opened my eyes and nodded.
“I agree.”
Sinclair’s eyes went a bit blank as he read over what I’d sent back.
He pulled the visor down on his full helm, then nodded.
The Duel has been accepted. It begins… now.
Chapter Sixteen
You’d think I’d have learned more from the first duel I was thrown in, but once again I was totally unprepared when the duel began. My opponent, on the other hand, he started moving as soon as the words rang out in my head.
Sinclair whipped his hand across his saddle, and a dagger flew across the space between us. Instinctually, I moved my arm to cover my torso, and the dagger hit perfectly, popping the links in my chainmail and sticking into my arm.
A burning sensation swarmed across me. I got a poisoned debuff badge in the corner of my vision.
“Motherfucker,” I said quietly as my vision blurred a bit.
All the knights behind Sinclair had crossbows out. Some shot at the guards on top of the wall, the rest shot at me. A hail of bolts came down, and all I could really do was cover my head to make sure I wasn’t going to be the Vuldranni version of Pinhead.
Make no mistake: getting hit by a crossbow bolt hurts a ton, and I was definitely having real trouble keeping myself upright. The poison wasn’t helping either.
I got my arm out of my face, but immediately got hit by the chest of a horse. It knocked me off my feet, and sent me flying until I slammed into the wall, and slid down to the stone ground.
I rolled over, which only drove the bolts deeper into me. But I managed to get my feet under me in time for Sinclair’s horse to come up on me again. But his time I was ready for the charge. I got both hands out in front, catching the neck of the horse almost like I was catching a football. I changed my grip and pulled down, and I fucking suplexed the goddamn horse. It slammed onto the ground, and stopped moving. Its rider, Sinclair, seemed trapped underneath his mount.
I took a few steps back to give myself a little room, trying to get a good look at what might be happening, who my opponents were, ie making sure it was still just the singular knight. Sinclair had extricated himself from his horse — maybe he wasn’t ever even trapped under it — and came at me with a massive swing of his sword, cutting horizontally across my midsection.
I jumped back out of the way. The sword whizzed on by, but the slick motherfucker had a dagger in his other hand. He twisted his body around and sliced right across my chest level. I was probably only saved by my height; he wasn’t used to fighting opponents so tall. On a shorter opponent, say Lee, the dagger would have gone right through the throat.
Instead, the dagger managed to cut through the chain and part of my gambeson. The edge of the blade glowing a vibrant red. Magic.
Fire with fire. I cast humus, and a cubic foot of dirt formed around his head.
It threw him off, as a face-full of dirt understandably would, and I saw my opportunity. I dropped my shoulder down and tackled the man, hitting right through his solar plexus. His breast plate dented, I hit him so hard.
We skidded across the ground, his back absorbing some of the blow. He brought his knee into my groin, and managed to push me off of him while sliding his dagger into my armpit. Which hurt.
I rolled and scrambled to my feet, only to see him coming at me with an overhand chop. I jumped to the side, and the big cut went by, but there was another knight on a horse there, and the damn horse bumped me off my feet again. I wanted to scream out about cheaters, but I didn’t have the spare breath.
Sinclair had his sword coming at my face when I hit the ground. I barely slapped the blade out of the way.
Once. Twice. He thrust his sword at me, and I kept knocking it out of the way with my hands. But he just kept shoving the damn thing in my face.
I shot my fist out as a jab, catching Sinclair in the helm. His head popped back sharply, and I swear I heard a bonus bong as his skull hit the back of the helmet.
Whatever the case, the man paused for a second to recalibrate. That left me enough time to get my own shit together and prep for Sinclair’s next attack. I misjudged what time I had though, because I had my hand in my bag of holding when Sinclair came after me once again.
He gave a swing of the sword, which I parried, and this time I was watching for the dagger. Sure enough, it came right quick. I tucked my arm down against my side so I got stabbed through the arm instead of into the kidney. But that meant he was right in close to me, so I lashed out with my stabbed arm and pulled him into a hug.
Then I started squeezing.
It’s not the prettiest of techniques, but by-gods, with a strength over 100, it’s effective. I squeezed as hard as I could, and Sinclair started screaming. Blood seeped out of his armor, coming out of all the various joints. There was groaning as the metal crunched, followed by more screams as the poor knight was compressed. Finally, he stopped. I didn’t. I was caught up in the moment, and felt the pain and anger flow through me. It made me squeeze harder. In the end, he didn’t have a 24-inch waist, but he was damn close in the chest.
I released Sinclair, and he dropped to the ground with a clang.
He made no movements, no noises. Blood, as well as a few other other gross things, came out of the ruined armor.
You have won your duel with Sinclair Hardy. All titles of Elias Atkins, Reason Whitelock, John Nickle, Jethro McClelland, Ajax Alexander, Andrew VanZant, Rufus Hopkins, Balthasar Bennett, Abijah Fansant, Philomon Thompson, Emmanuel Belsey, Clarence Rampton, Edward Sandry, Arthur Leal, Hyman West, Christopher Gentle, Wallace Sellen, Ellis Popkin, Rowland Costa, Noel Eddy, Adam Blondell, Mathias Purlles, Zacharia Michelgrove, Sampson Dene, Roland Stace, Cornelius Fitzherbert, Humphrie Mayne, Michael Kidwelly, Emanual Aubrey, Valentine Latton, Leonarde Rowlatt, Hugo Batherst, Amor Rondel, Nicholas Lawnder, Valentine Dunch, Jude Atlee, Miles Pray, and Harry Salford have been transferred to you. All owned property has been transferred to you. All known wealth has been transferred to you.
I looked up to see the rest of the knights staring at me, weapons out, mouths open. Fortunately, no more crossbows. Just a variety of swords and maces and the like. I scooped up Sinclair’s magic sword from the ground and gave it a test swing through the air. It was a very weird weapon, and I was cu
rious why he hadn’t really used it during the battle, but with a quick identification, I understood why.
Pata
Item Type: Mythic
Item Class: One-handed Melee, Two-handed Melee
Material: Hepatizon, shark teeth, sharkskin
Damage: 84-112 (Slashing)
Durability: 185/250
Weight: 4.8 lbs
Requirements: Str 8
Description: A sword made from the teeth of the legendary shark ‘Pata’. Grants the wielder Water-breathing. Grants the wielder Water Walking. Grants the wielder Minor Control Water.
“Okay fuckfaces,” I said, “despite you asshats cheating, I still won. All your titles belong to me.”
I heard some grumbling going on in the back of the group, about how this was not the manner in which it was supposed to work. But no one stepped forward. Or rode forward. They all just stared at me. Well, a few were glaring at Caticorix.
“So, is now the time I challenge you to a duel, Caticorix?” I asked, stepping closer to the asshole. Or, more likely, his illusory double.
“Honor is for fairy tales and children,” spat back Caticorix. “Kill him and return to me.”
Then he disappeared.
Thirty eight knights against one of me. Me, who was bleeding profusely, in a surprising amount of pain, and still suffering the effects of the mystery poison working its way through me.
“Uh,” I stammered as the knights circled and prepared their charge, “let’s raincheck this. DOORS!”
I ran for the gates while the knights charged after me, and I barely slipped through as the knights screamed their displeasure.
The Thingmen stood with their weight pushing against the gates as the knights on the other side tried to use their horses to force the door. Despite the pain, I lent my strength, and we managed to get it to the point where we could drop the stone beam across. Then it didn’t matter what the assholes on the other side did — the doors would remain closed.
Chapter Seventeen
The guards gave me shocked looks while I pulled various bolts out of myself and dropped them to the ground. Bits of my flesh still stuck to them.
“Your grace,” one said, “there are still two on your back. Would you—”
“Just yank them out,” I said.
A brief bonus pain, and it was done. I thanked the soldiers and started towards the Hall, angling for Nikolai’s office. But on the way, Harmut, the head of the dwarves, intercepted me.
“My lord duke,” he said with a bow, “I have a surprise for you.”
“You found Emeline?”
“Ah, no my lord. I was not under the impression I was supposed to be looking for her.”
“I mean, I didn’t say it outright, but she’s a bit missing. So keep an eye out, okay?”
He nodded, and I started walking again. I wasn’t taking especially big steps, but with our size disparity, he still had to quickstep to keep up.
“The surprise, my lord,” he said.
“Yeah, sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry. What’s up?”
“I have been working on something for a bit of time, but I remembered what you ordered me to do last night—”
“Make space for everyone inside the mountain?”
“Yes. I knew you would require all hands to be dedicated to that particular goal as soon as possible, so some of my best and I worked through the night to finish up this surprise.”
“I’m starting to get the sense you want me to follow you for this, correct?”
“Yes, my lord.”
I stopped heading to Nikolai’s office, once again reminded of how much I wanted an assistant.
“Okay,” I said with a sigh, trying, but failing, to hide my irritation. “Lead on Macduff.”
“Harmut.”
“Right, sorry.”
We walked through the doors into the mountain, and against the rush of people. It wasn’t crowded, per se, but the traffic through the single entrance/exit gave me more than a little bit of pause. It was great to have a single entrance from a security standpoint, but it made less sense from a quick egress standpoint. What would happen if there was a fire inside the mountain? I mean, that would be rather impressive, considering 99% of everything in the mountain was, you know, mountain. And if the mountain was burning, a quick exit probably wouldn’t do much beyond prolonging the suffering. Still, it made me worry.
Harmut had to do a little pushing, until people saw me. Then the peasants moved to the side. It made me feel a little bad, and I made a mental note to stop calling them peasants. At least to their faces.
We went up a staircase, up and up until we got to the point where there wasn’t much in the way of other people. It was definitely newer construction — the edges of the hallway were unfinished, and there were piles of rock detritus in most corners. Harmut moved in silence, but I could feel the excitement coming off him in waves. He was super pumped about something. What that something was, I had no idea, you know, what with it being a surprise and all.
Finally, we got to a massive wooden door. Taller than me. Harmut pushed it open and gestured at the room with his big meaty paw.
“My lord,” he said, more than a little grandiose, “your chambers.”
I stepped past him, and found that my jaw was hanging open.
“This is incredible,” I said, and I heard him chuckle.
It really was an impressive feat that they’d pulled off. My corner of the mountain was near the big tunnel through to the Empire, and quite high up on the eastern side of Coggeshall. It was an expansive, wide-open space with a few key pieces of furniture. Large windows looked out over the valley to one side, and even over the canyon on the other side. I could hear the faint sounds of the river rushing below, which meant a portion of my room was directly above the tunnel. A door was off to the left side of the room, and Essie and Mercy stood on either side of it.
“They are right proud of the work they did here,” Harmut said. “Some things I never yet thought of.”
The two mancers had big smiles on their faces.
“Okay,” I said, “what’d you do?”
“Well,” Essie said, opening the door and pointing at the room inside, “we figured you needed a place to sleep that also gave you easy access to the outside world.”
The bedroom was, like the main area, large. Much larger than I needed. A bed had been carved out of the stone, and filled with whatever passed for a mattress in Vuldranni. Or at least in the Empire. There was a table rising out of the floor, also of stone, and some wooden chairs, including something that was remarkably similar to an Adirondack chair facing a large balcony. The door to the balcony was currently shut, but the windows weren’t. There were wooden shutters to close the windows. A decided lack of glass, but given glass was currently still quite the luxury what with contemporary technological advances, I hadn’t expected actual windows. I idly wondered if we might be able industrialize the process in some fashion, corner the glass market and bring fortune to Coggeshall without bloodshed. Then I remembered I was in charge and that I’d already crushed a man to death that morning. Bloodshed and I were not only old friends, but asexual life partners.
“There’s an emergency exit here,” Essie said, striding over to the balcony. Sure enough there was a rope hanging in a big series of loops from a stone eyelet.
“Just toss and slide?” I asked.
“We didn’t want it to be too easy for someone to get inside your room,” Essie said. “And we thought this was the easiest way to get you to the walls if you were needed.”
“Thank you,” I said.
She smiled.
“My turn,” Mercy said. She almost took me by the hand, but thought better of it. Instead, she just brushed by me before opening the door to my en suite.
“Holy shit,” I said.
It was a thing of beauty and wonder, something only magic could accomplish.
“Hey,” Essie said from behind, “I helped here too.”
A
sink and a table of sorts came out of one wall, with a faucet and actual running water. There was also a toilet. A modern-ish looking toilet. But most of the space was taken up by the biggest and coolest thing in there was: a big tub cut into the floor, rather deep, and surprisingly wide. An xxxl version of a Japanese soaker tub, except made of stone instead of wood. Two thin chains hung down next to each other outside the tub.
Mercy walked over and gave one of the chains a pull.
A torrent of water came out of a hole revealed in the ceiling, filling the tub in record time. Then she pulled the other chain, and a large hole opened up at the point where the wall and the tub met. The water drained out equally as fast.
“Shower and bath in one,” Mercy said proudly.
“Impressive,” I said.
“It is not heated,” she said, “but if you choose to use it with a bath function—”
Essie opened a small stone container, and I felt a wave of heat come out of it.
“This will heat up rocks, put a few in, and you’ve got a hot bath,” Essie said.
“This is fantastic,” I said. “Thank you, really. Far more than was necessary.”
“It was actually rather simple. We just—” Mercy started, but Essie grabbed her before she could say anything else.
“No need to burden His Grace with the boring details of our work,” Essie said, pulling Mercy out of the room.
I looked back to see Harmut smiling at me.
“This is way more than I need, man,” I said.
“And yet, barely befitting a duke of the Empire, my lord,” he replied.
“Nonsense—”
“You are a good man, my lord. Let your people do something for you as you do things for us.”
When he put it like that, I didn’t have anything to say.
“Also,” Harmut continued, though breaking eye contact with me. “I think we all would appreciate you taking a stronger look at personal hygiene. It is yet early morning and you are already covered with a rather disturbing amount and array of gore. And your armor is ruined.”