“I accept these terms so far, except the time,” Gerald said. “What else?”
“You have quite a bit of men with you, you do not plan to ambush while you’re here, do you? If so, I’ll simply have you executed on the spot here.”
Gerald shook his head and answered, “My men are simply here for formality, in case you were to do the same.”
Torga nodded his understanding and concurred, “Then we have an agreement. Who do you have as your second?”
Gerald waved a hand to man in a cloak, who took off his hood and revealed a face that three of the five recognized.
“Lyle!” Ryland barked, as adrenaline shot through his body. He pointed an angry finger his way and replied, “Came back for a rematch, you son of a bitch?!”
Everyone focused on the two men as Lyle sighed and calmly answered, “You actually want a part two of how the battle at the peak went? Well, taking you out would help things.”
“Where’s Boswick?”
“Don’t worry about him. He’s already off to meet with Hackshot. You won’t make it there to see him, I’ll be sure to see to that.”
Ryland gritted his teeth and reached for his axe, then drew it and marched out to the middle of the grounds.
“Hackshot? I keep hearing that name come up; I guess he’s the next guy we need to take down with Boswick, huh?”
“Focus on here. Don’t go thinking you’ll so easily topple Hackshot.”
“Well then, why wait until later when we can do this now between you and I?!” Ryland boomed as he slapped his buckler with his axe.
Gerald grinned with glee and shouted out to the bounty hunter, “You lad, you’re a fiery one! I like that!”
Torga nodded, looked to Ryland, and asked, “I know you’re an outsider, but would you like to be my second for this? It seems you too have some unfinished business.”
“I would like nothing else,” Ryland confirmed, and stood his ground where he was when Lyle made no move to approach.
“Very well. Then as jarl, I select Ryland here as my second,” Torga called out.
Gerald nodded in delight as he said, “Excellent. I will not wait until sundown. However, I will give you until afternoon to prepare. That certainly is feasible enough, no?”
“It is. The terms are agreed to.”
Gerald nodded, then said to the jarl, “We will await you outside of your village at the gates.”
With that, the group of men started to head back the way they came. Ryland made eye contact with Lyle, as the thief gave a small bow of his head and left with the others.
Gerald went to turn around as well when Leila stormed out to the middle and yelled, “Gerald Thick-Hair! I’ll take you on right now!”
The men halted their march as Gerald turned to see the reddened, furious face of Leila.
“Ah, the daughter of the jarl herself,” Gerald said. “This is not your fight. I refuse to take you on in good faith to your father. My fight is with him.”
“No!!! You will face me here and now!!!” Leila demanded out of desperation. She refused to see her father battle while still injured and played off like he was at full strength. She was also inclined to not betray that front in public before the enemy and did the only thing she could; challenge the man herself.
“You are far too unversed to take on the likes of me. Leave your father to face me and stop disgracing his name in public.”
Leila, struck by such a brash comment, started off for Gerald and drew her greataxe. Everyone around froze on the spot as she lifted it over her head and swung it down.
Gerald blocked the blow with his shield and let it roll off with little effect as Leila continued to press with another swing from her side. Despite the blows being powerful for the weapon she wielded, the shield proved far greater in deflecting or redirecting her attacks. Not only that, but the axe was designed to be wielded by someone of larger stature, like her father. In Leila’s hands, the greataxe was hefty and powerful, but slow.
Leila pressed on with multiple blows but started to tire as Gerald easily moved around the swings with his shield. Each strike was blocked by the metal boss in the middle, and only drained Leila of her strength.
“Have you had enough yet, Torgasdottir?” Gerald taunted, still having not drawn his weapon yet.
Leila cried out and let another swing come from over the top, as Gerald easily sidestepped it. The greataxe stuck in the ground, and Leila felt her energy worn down as she struggled to breathe normally.
“Enough. You can watch the fight later on. You’ve had your fill,” Gerald scoffed at her.
Leila, who had all the disrespect she could stand, spat at Gerald’s face. He let the spittle hit his cheek, then pursed his lips as he slowly wiped it off with rising anger.
Leila then went to tackle the man and Gerald answered by bashing the metal rim of his shield into Leila’s stomach, which knocked what wind she had left out of her and took her feet from her.
The Hemmigatr guards drew their weapons, as did the men with Gerald, but he held a hand up to halt them.
“We’re done here. Find a weapon more suitable to wield. You’re as slow as a cow,” Gerald spoke through gritted teeth, and the guards lowered their weapons when they saw he’d take no further move against the young woman when he left with his men.
Ryland and Kaito went to help Leila up as she coughed and struggled to breathe but swatted both of their hands away and forced herself to her feet with strained effort.
“Leila, are you okay?” Ryland asked and Leila hurriedly shoved her way through him as she staggered off to one of the paths that led to one of the thickets she liked to visit.
Ryland stood silent, with a look of bewilderment as Olvir approached the young man and said, “Give her some time to cool off.”
“What in the world is her deal? I get that she’s worried about her father, but for goodness sake!” Ryland replied.
Torga sighed and answered, “It’s because of her mother, Yvette. She probably hasn’t told you, but she carries the death of her mother on her shoulders. That’s why she will sometimes put on a strong face and front, which sometimes comes off as haughty or indifferent.”
“Why…what happened?” Ryland asked, his surprise gave way to that of concern.
“When she was a child, my wife and Leila were in the woods picking juniper berries together. A tearwolf attacked and Yvette, Leila’s mother, stood against the beast to protect her. Leila escaped with her life to get help, but Yvette didn’t survive. I wish I were there to have saved them both, but I was away at one of the summits for the Jepsward region and didn’t learn of it until Helga, my other daughter, and I returned home. Since then, Leila has never forgiven herself and had always tried her best to prove her strength and ability to protect others.”
“Oh…no wonder she carries herself as she does…” Ryland said in empathy.
“Don’t think of her so harshly, please. I know she’s rough around the edges, but she still is my sweet daughter,” Torga said in a soft voice.
“I’ll go speak with her. Thank you for telling me as such,” Ryland said to the jarl.
“Don’t be gone too long, you still have business with Lyle,” Kaito said.
Ryland held a fist up and the two bumped fists as he answered, “Oh, I owe him a beating. And he owes us a bounty.”
“I’ll let you have Lyle but leave Boswick to me on the next go around,” Kaito answered with a smile.
“Deal!” Ryland agreed and headed off for Leila.
In the thicket, Leila was sobbing against a tree, at her wit’s end. She was overcome with the overbearing feeling of failure, with the guilt of her mother in tow. She looked to a bush, which had red juniper berries growing in it, and recalled fonder days where she picked baskets of them when her mother. Leila plucked a few off the bush and rolled them around in her fingers, and weakly smiled at them.
The sound of footsteps that crunched in the snow took Leila’s sight off the berries and to the approachi
ng form of Ryland.
“Ryland…what do you want now?” Leila asked with a hint of frustration in her voice.
“To come find you and make sure you’re okay,” he gently replied.
“Why does everyone keep worrying about me?!” Leila cried as she stood up. “Everyone still wants to treat me like I’m some child! I’m not a little girl that needs someone to save them, I’m capable all on my own!”
“No one is arguing that. You did quite well against the tearwolves yesterday.”
“But I still fell against Gerald! He swatted me away like I was nothing! I’m powerless to help anyone! I barely saved Gida, and I couldn’t save my father, or you on the peak, or…or…”
“Your mother,” Ryland calmly replied, which elicited a gasp from Leila.
“How do you know about that?” she whispered in shock as she backed up a step.
“Your father told me everything. Listen, you don’t have to shoulder everything on your own. No one gets by in this world like that. No one gets stronger without others. Focus on what you can do and proudly do it. We’re all here to stand together in arms against the forces that threaten your father.”
Leila took time to ruminate on Ryland’s words, and thought back to all her battles, especially the recent ones. She realized that he was right, that even if she tried all on her own to get better, the example was shown that her own limited ability was insufficient to stand against Gerald. How much stronger were the challenges of the world ahead that awaited the Frontier Okami, who rose to challenge them? Leila asked herself the question internally, then wiped away silent tears from her face.
She approached Ryland and looked up with a face of desperation and uncertainty, the first time she had ever cast a look like that to Ryland. He could see the young girl in her still holding the guilt over her mother and it was a sight that shook his own composure a bit.
“Ryland…” Leila weakly choked out as her worried green eyes met his own brown ones, “Will you help us? I don’t know what else to do.”
Ryland nodded with temerity, and said with finality, “You’re damn right I will. Kaito and I said we’d aid the jarldom, and we’ll see it through to the end.” He drove a fist into his palm then spoke with a spurt of simmering anger, “It’s bad enough Boswick and Lyle caused the IHB chaos during our exam. Now this? They’re going to pay.”
“Thank you, truly. If there was ever a time that we needed allies, it would be now.”
Ryland nodded and said, “Why don’t you return to your father? We’re still due to take on Gerald and Lyle, after all. Can’t leave your father to battle them alone.”
Leila nodded and followed Ryland as the two headed back for the village. Leila felt a sense of relief, a sense of her burden being lifted. She wasn’t alone, not with her new friends ready to stand fast by her side, with the jarldom. The looming battle ahead didn’t worry her as much; yes, Torga was still injured, but Leila would do all she could on her end to help support her father.
Ryland, on the other hand, was more focused on his showdown with Lyle. He had memorized his techniques from last time and practiced them since on how to best counter. He would not be caught off-guard by such unorthodox blade play the next go around and swore to take him down with unyielding fervor. Kaito and he both had pursued the duo as their first major bounty, and it was time to prove to themselves that they were going to earn their name in the world.
Chapter XIII: A Deadly Rematch! Ryland vs Lyle
At the village ground, afternoon had come, and Gerald and his men were led to an arena of sorts where the people and guards trained. The ground was surrounded by a wooden fence ring, and the villagers gathered around it while both the Hemmigatr jarldom and Gerald’s men stood on opposite sides of the arena.
As many people gathered around, two more familiar faces showed up that drew the ire of the entire village. Erik and Isolda, who were in Falmod, had caught up and reunited with Gerald’s group during the wait for combat.
“Erik the Scorned and Isolda: both you show your faces now at such a momentous occasion like this?” Torga declared.
“My jarl, I couldn’t possibly miss an open challenge to the jarldom and be absent when I should be here to support you!” Erik said with such exaggeration and gusto.
“You and Isolda are wanted for sedition against the jarldom, of heinous and dishonorable treacherous acts,” Olvir declared and motioned for the guards to capture them.
Gerald’s men stepped into the way to intercept them, with weapons at the ready.
“Ah ah, you have an open challenge to deal with first, my jarl,” Erik condescendingly teased. “You have Gerald to fight first.”
“Actually, Lyle here will fight first,” Gerald interjected. “We have a battle of seconds to take place, one that will prove most exciting.”
“A battle of seconds?” Erik asked, confused.
Gerald nodded and answered with a smile, “Indeed. These two have some unfinished business of their own and represent our respective interests. They shall battle as such.”
Erik felt his nerves grow uneasy; he had not anticipated Lyle and Ryland to face each other in a sanctioned battle for the jarl’s throne, and knew that if Ryland won, Lyle was subject to the laws of the land instead of the option to escape or be covered by Gerald’s men. His worries didn’t stay for long, for he had another plan in motion with the one here already.
“Well then, let the battles begin, yes?” Erik dismissively acquiesced to the situation.
The villagers booed Lyle as he stepped into the arena first, with his knives drawn, and expertly twirled them in a show of finesse and skill.
Ryland then entered the arena as well, buckler and axe in hand as the villagers cheered loudly for the young man.
“There’s the lad who helped us fight off the tearwolves!” one of the villagers cried out.
“Beat the daylights out of that thief, Ryland of Stonetowne!” another cried.
Gida and Olga were also among the crowd, as little Gida squealed out with her tiny voice, “Go, Mister Ryland! Fight!”
Erik was somewhat offput by the villagers’ vocal support, but paid no mind as the crowd drew in closer.
Torga cleared his throat and called out, “Both combatants, do you have the weapons you need to proceed?”
Lyle and Ryland both nodded and didn’t break eye contact with one another.
“If there are no further issues, you both may fight until one yields, cannot continue fighting, or dies,” Torga explained. With no objections, he lifted an arm, called out, “With that, begin!” and swung his arm down.
The villagers and Gerald’s men roared in eager anticipation and glued all eyes to the arena center as both men started to approach one another.
“Hope you can keep up,” Lyle muttered, his knives held in the stance Ryland remembered.
“Hope you like IHB holding cells,” Ryland shot back, as he advanced to meet Lyle.
Kaito stood with crossed arms, and kept his eyes out on Ryland as well as Lyle, intent on not missing a single movement and to analyze the battle.
Ryland gave the first strike as he swung his axe out to gauge his reach, and watched Lyle react. As on cue, Lyle swayed back, his right arm up at his chest and left arm flat to his leg, both knives ready to block if they went high or low. Ryland knew that Lyle didn’t want to block so much as maneuver, outpace, step around, and turn his blades into instruments of malice and blood.
Lyle took a step forward and stabbed out with his lead hand with deft speed, a rapier technique used in fencing. While with less reach, it still proved effective as it also gauged reach for Lyle, to which Ryland threw his blocking arm up to let tap his buckler.
The two traded a few more prodding shots each, noncommittal and light in nature to assess reach, reaction, and poise.
Ryland felt satisfied with his analysis and took a more aggressive, open stance, and Lyle also widened his own in kind. The bounty hunter stepped forward and slashed to his left as Lyle ste
pped back, then countered with a stab.
Ryland sidestepped to his right and outward as the knife just grazed his collar and cut, then countered as he swatted at Lyle’s arm with his axe.
The flat of the axe smacked Lyle’s inner arm before he could fully retrieve it, and Ryland knew he hit the nerve he targeted to hamper Lyle’s movements; he would remember to thank Kaito for the lesson on pressure points and nerves once the battle was finished.
Lyle winced and shook his left arm, then without warning, exploded into a dance of knives. A series of wild cuts and stabs came on like a wave of deadly violence, and pressed Ryland back. Lyle’s attacks were all quick and left little openings, which was a testament to his skill with the blades.
Ryland watched carefully and kept his eyes focused on Lyle’s torso, for all else in his peripherals would catch any movement as a tell, instead of eye contact.
A blade from Ryland’s left came out for his neck, and Ryland instinctively threw his buckler up to the side of his head; a blocking move normally used in martial arts, but suited the situation the same. As he did, he simultaneously chopped inward and down diagonally left, and slashed open Lyle’s arm.
Lyle grunted but didn’t relent; instead, he added flourishes of the blade, and spun and flipped them with fluid grace, which caught Ryland by surprise. A right-handed knife toss in the air caught Ryland’s attention as a left stab from the other caught the bounty hunter in his side with decent effect, as blood stained the cut mark.
Ryland felt the bite of the knife and assessed while nothing vital was hit, the cut bled more than he cared or wanted, and figured the longer the battle drew out, the harder of a time he’d have fighting.
The two traded exchanges, with a series of dodges, parries, blocks, and sidesteps, with scored hits that landed fewer and fewer. They had learned each other’s moves more and more as the battle went on, each combatant having to resort to more creative attacks within their arsenals.
Ryland struggled to get inside and knew he couldn’t play the long game forever. Lyle could do it all day, he figured, and didn’t want to take any strong hits. However, if he could land one good blow, Ryland could take the fight. An idea came to his mind, one that he knew was high risk, but would pay off if he didn’t get hurt badly.
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