by Pirateaba
How had it gone? A village and a King. Only the village that Venith saw in his head had no wall. It was dark, and the village was burning. He could still smell the smoke, taste the blood and fear in his mouth. His grip loosened on his sword.
Once.
—-
The second time Venith met Flos, he was galloping away from his father’s castle as it burned in the distance. The village was filled with screams and armed soldiers striking down people—his people as he fled. They cried out for someone to save them, but Venith could not stop. Sixteen riders wearing black armor and the silver insignia of a set of scales on their arms were in hot pursuit of him.
They caught him at the bridge. Venith heard his mare scream as she stumbled. He tumbled to the ground and saw an arrow in her thigh. His faithful horse thrashed on the ground as Venith tried to get to his feet.
Too slow.
“Put down your sword, Venith Crusand. Accept your judgement.”
The leader of the pursuers was female, but her face was covered by a black veil. She, like the others, hid her face. They surrounded him, weapons raised. Venith reached for his shield, but he had dropped it. So he clasped both hands to his sword and told himself he would kill one of them before he died.
“Hold.”
The voice didn’t come from in front of Venith, but rather, behind. He turned warily, and saw his pursuers back away. Because they were outnumbered.
Flos had changed little in the year since Venith had tried to kill him. He was a tiny bit taller, that was all. But this time he was not alone. An army stood at his back. The army of Reim, just as Venith had heard.
For a second hope surged in his breast. But then Venith felt movement. He whipped around and felt something touch the skin at his neck.
A glaive’s tip cut into his throat. The woman who held it stared past him, at Flos.
“Withdraw your forces, King of Reim. This does not concern you.”
“Put up your blade. Now. I know that man. Why are you trying to kill him?”
It wasn’t a question that needed asking. Venith knew Flos must have known. The woman’s response was sharp and irritated as she raised her glaive away from Venith’s head. He felt at his throat and felt blood.
“We are the Black Judgment. The house of Crusand has failed to honor its debts and refused to pay its dues. We are administering justice.”
“You mean they refused to sell their people off as slaves. And now you’re killing all of them.”
“Oathbreakers shall be punished. Criminals shall be found. Traitors slain. You know we answer to no [Monarch]. Do not interfere.”
Flos was staring at Venith. His eyes flicked to the village. Venith could still hear screaming. The Black Judgment worked methodically, going from house to house. They did not have to hurry. They just had to ensure no one escaped.
“My lord. They have many soldiers here.”
A quiet, frightened voice came from one of the people standing next to Flos. He turned his head.
“How many, Gazi?”
“A thousand—perhaps a thousand five hundred. All armored. And six mages.”
Overkill for a small [Lord]’s house and his retainers. But that was how the Black Judgment worked. Anyone who broke the law and refused to honor their debts was punished, be it a [King] or a [Beggar]. Venith’s stomach twisted. Now that he looked, he saw the army that accompanied Flos was no true army. Their numbers lay in the hundreds, possibly not coming close to a thousand.
He stared dully at the woman—no, the person who’d spoken. She was not Human. He found himself staring at a being with a huge eye in the center of her head and four smaller ones around it. He only vaguely recognized her as a species from Baleros. A Gazer.
She was female, frightened, holding a sword that looked too big for her. Venith looked around. The rest of Flos’ ‘army’ looked the same. They weren’t the professional soldiers he’d expected, merely the sons and daughters of [Farmers] and [Shopkeepers]. Common peasantry.
He turned away in despair. His father had sent [Messages] for help in every direction. If Flos hadn’t come with an army three times larger, it meant he was only here to watch.
But the King was arguing with the half-Gazer now. He stared hard at the soldiers as he spoke to her.
“I like him, Gazi. And these aren’t soldiers that are being killed.”
Venith looked incredulously at Flos. The leader of the band of Black Judgment warriors was doing the same. Flos spurred his mount forwards until he was sitting and looking down at Venith.
“So this is why you came for my head. It is still not a good enough reason.”
There was no point to talking. Venith lowered his head, biting his lip until he tasted blood.
“Go on and leave. You can’t do anything here.”
“I could. This does not seem like justice to my eyes.”
Flos leaned forwards on his mount. He was staring at the burning village. The woman with the glaive spoke sharply.
“You have no right! This is the law and they have broken it!”
The King of Reim ignored her completely. He looked at Venith.
“I have no cause. A King must not declare war for no reason. But perhaps you have one. Is this just?”
He would have loved to say yes. He would have loved to deny the truth. But Venith’s hand clenched on his sword’s hilt until it cracked. He spoke slowly.
“My father borrowed too much and refused to sell his people. That is the truth. This is—justice.”
“I see. You are a poor liar.”
Flos didn’t move as Venith whirled on him. He was staring at the village. He pointed.
“Look, Venith Crusand. Over there. That girl.”
Venith did not want to look. But he did. He saw a child lying on the ground. She was dead. Dead, or soon to be dead. He looked down.
“What about her?”
“What is her name?”
“Don’t mock—”
A hand reached down and lifted Venith off the ground. Flos stared at Venith as his stallion groaned at the sudden increase in weight.
“What. Is. Her. Name?”
Venith turned to look. There was no way he could tell at a distance—
His breath caught. He saw a long braid, faintly blonde hair. He remembered the handful of flowers that she gathered every summer and handed out like they were treasures. He spoke her name.
“Merisa.”
The King dropped him. Venith landed on the ground with a thump. Flos nodded. He stared at the village, and then met the eyes of the order of Black Judgment.
“That’s all I needed to know.”
He rode back towards Gazi, and his army of amateur warriors. Venith lowered his head and raised his sword as the Black Judgment closed in. Then he heard Flos’ voice.
“Her name is Merisa!”
It was a shout. Like thunder, his voice echoed across the ground, cutting above the screaming and shouts. Venith saw Flos turn. Then the young King unsheathed his sword. Beside him, the half-Gazer raised her blade.
Flos pointed straight at the woman with the glaive. He uttered one word.
“Charge!”
His army roared and swept forwards. Venith heard thundering hooves, and then Flos leapt past him. He cut the first warrior of the Black Judgment down and then rode on. Shouting a child’s name.
That was the first time Venith had ever wept in public. He ran after the King of Reim on the day he declared war against the Black Judgment.
For a child.
For justice.
—-
“Teres!”
Trey shouted her name amid the clamor around him. He heard someone shout his name, and then found her in the sea of people.
“Over here!”
She led him away, away from Flos, who was at the center of the throng of people. When they could talk without shouting, Trey hugged Teres. She hugged him back.
“How’d you know he was going to do that?”
“I didn’t. But when he didn’t ride off I got a bad feeling.”
“You threw a rock at him! What if he stabbed you?”
“He didn’t.”
Trey opened his mouth to protest that logic when he heard his name again.
“Teres. Trey!”
Someone’s voice boomed. The twins turned. Flos was striding towards them, the sea of people parting in biblical fashion. The King smiled as he stared at Teres.
“You have keen eyes, Teres. A shame you had no bow or wand. I will fix that another time. For now, follow me.”
He turned. The twins stared at each other and then followed Flos. He was walking towards the village gates. People were trying to stop him without actually holding him back. A man—the village headman, perhaps, was trying to talk to Flos.
“Don’t go alone, my King. We’ll follow you into battle! We might not have weapons, most of us, but we’ve a wall and three times their number. We’ll choke them on our blood and flesh if need be!”
“That would be the worst outcome. Far worse than my death. Venith is your [Lord], is he not?”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. He is a good [Lord], by all accounts. I remember Orthenon telling me he patrolled these lands. For ten years he has kept you safe from monsters and brigands.”
“He is not you, my King. And he was once your vassal! Taking arms against his sword master is treason!”
“Perhaps. But I was the one who betrayed him first.”
Flos sighed. He did not look at the confused headman, but turned to the twins.
“I will duel Venith now. The sun should rise shortly—stand with your backs to it so you may have the best view.”
They gaped at him. Teres was the first to find her voice.
“Why?”
“He challenged me. That is how things are done in this land.”
“Not that! Why does he hate you? Was he your vassal?”
“Yes. And he bears a grudge.”
Flos strode out of the village, people streaming after him. He was adjusting his belt, tightening it. Trey stared at Flos. He wasn’t wearing armor.
“Why does he hate you?”
“For abandoning him? For leaving my kingdom to rot? For incompetence, failure, cowardice?”
The King of Destruction shook his head.
“I do not know. But I must answer him, Trey. I cannot run from my failure. And he has every right to hate me.”
“But he’s wearing armor! And you’ve only got a sword!”
“Yes. I rather wish I had something else.”
Instantly a hundred voices rose, offering Flos a shield, a helmet that might fit, a piece of armor. He waved the voices away.
“I have no need. And Venith will not wait. Besides, a sword is all I need.”
He unsheathed his sword, and Trey stared hopefully at the blade. But it did not glow, or sparkle. It was shiny, but that was only because moonlight shone on it.
Flos saw Trey’s expression and laughed.
“There is no enchantment on the blade, Trey. I believe I took this one from my armory. It is just steel. But it is my sword, so it is a King’s sword. That should be good enough, even for Venith.”
“But he’s got armor.”
Teres stared at Flos and then grabbed Trey’s arm.
“He’s not listening to me. Talk sense to him!”
“I’m trying!”
“And I am listening. But your worries are unfounded, Teres. I will not lose. Because I am a King.”
Trey’s sister gaped at Flos’ back. But at his words a huge cheer went up from the people who had heard. Flos stopped and turned to face the villagers.
“I have been challenged! And so I declare this: I will go to do battle with Lord Venith Crusand. Let no one interfere with our duel on pain of death!”
They shouted and cheered him. A King wearing no armor about to fight a man in full plate armor with a sword and shield. Trey stared at Flos as he strode across the dry, flat ground.
Venith was waiting for him. The man stood braced, ready for battle. His soldiers had spread out around him, forming a large semicircle. Flos halted with the crowd of villagers at his back. He stared at Venith, and then turned his back on the man. He raised his empty left hand and bellowed into the night.
“People of Manimar! Who is your rightful ruler?”
A roar answered him.
“Flos!”
He raised his sword, and the cheering and shouting from the villagers overwhelmed all other sound. Venith waited, braced in the dirt, shield in one hand, sword aimed at Flos’ chest.
Trey found himself standing closest to Flos, in the circle that watched the two about to duel. Teres was by his side. She was gripping his arm so hard it hurt, but Trey was doing the same to her.
This was crazy. Insane. But there was something to this moment that spoke to Trey. He thought of knights. Of honor and valor and chivalry. And when he looked at Venith he thought about vengeance and betrayal.
Flos strode towards Venith and stopped around ten paces away. When he spoke, it was far more quietly, so that Trey had to strain to hear over the restless crowd.
“Why is it that you cannot bear that I live, Venith? You, who once fought beside me fiercest of all?”
“Because you abandoned us.”
Venith raised his sword. Flos kept his lowered. The man charged and the duel began without a signal.
From where he stood, Trey could barely see Venith’s sword flash forwards. He’d stabbed at Flos’ chest, but Flos stepped sideways incredibly quickly. His sword came up and parried Venith’s thrust with the flat of his blade, knocking it aside.
Venith spun as Flos turned. He lashed out, punching with his shield. Flos stepped back from that as well, and raised his sword. Venith pulled his shield up and braced. The sword came down.
And Trey felt the clash in his bones. Venith staggered. He stabbed with his sword again and Flos dodged. The King cut horizontally at Venith’s side and the blade slashed across Venith’s shield. Then Flos reversed the direction of his cut. He was aiming for Venith’s shoulder. But Venith had raised his shield again. This time the noise made several people clap their hands to their ears.
“Your skill hasn’t changed, Venith. Your [Flawless Defence] is still as invincible as ever.”
He said it so casually, as if he weren’t fighting for his life. But Venith’s voice was tense, filled with sharp emotions.
“I haven’t put down my sword for ten years. Unlike you. And you have grown weak.”
He raised his shield as Flos leapt forwards. The King jerked his head back to avoid having it clipped by Venith’s shield. He retreated as Venith slashed at him.
The [Lord] didn’t fight like Trey expected. He never slashed wide with his sword and always kept it close to his body. When he attacked it was with a quick, precise cut, not Flos’ powerful strikes. He kept advancing on the King, not giving Flos a chance to move around and find his back.
He was forcing Flos to defend, but Trey saw that Flos could easily parry most of Venith’s strikes, even when the man tried to strike him with the rim of his shield. By the same token though, Venith’s cautious style meant that every time Flos tried to strike him, his shield was in the way.
But the sound of it. Trey shuddered as Flos struck Venith again and the very air seemed to explode. Flos was clearly stronger than Venith, and only the man’s shield held him at bay. Around him the villagers of Manimar were shouting their King’s name, drowning out the soldiers who cheered for their lord, Venith.
The noise of it was deafening, actually drowning out most of the sounds of battle, save for when Flos dealt Venith a strong blow. But Trey could still hear the two shouting at each other, in a world of their own as they fought in the center of the ring of onlookers.
“You are mine, Venith!”
Flos shouted at the man as he cut rapidly from every side, trying to score a solid blow. But Venith’s shield moved just as quickly, deflecting every str
ike.
“You are not my king!”
Venith roared as he cut low at Flos’ leg. This time the King had to jump away. He was nearly struck as Venith lashed out. Trey saw the sword catch on part of Flos’ royal clothing.
“A king who abandoned his kingdom is not a [King]! He is a coward!”
Venith lashed out with the edge of his shield. Flos had to avoid that; he blocked Venith’s sword with his, suddenly being pushed back. Venith charged forwards.
“You left us to rot! You left us to die!”
“Yes.”
Flos cut down, like lightning. Venith raised his shield. Again metal met metal. Trey blinked from the impact—he felt there should have been sparks. But then he saw something as Venith cut again, forcing Flos back.
Flos’ sword was bent. It was so slight Trey might not have noticed it. But then he saw Flos strike out with it and knew that he wasn’t seeing things.
“Trey—”
Teres had seen the same thing. Flos’ strength might outmatch Venith, but his sword couldn’t handle the abuse. And as Trey saw Venith force Flos back, he realized Venith knew this too.
Flos didn’t know. Or he didn’t care. He kept striking at Venith’s guard, as if to batter him down with sheer force alone. But his sword slowly and steadily deformed from the impacts.
The breaking point came when Flos charged Venith, locking his blade against the man’s shield. He tried to cut below around it, but Venith was too quick. He raised his sword up and brought it down on the bent part of Flos’ blade.
Just steel. That was what Flos’ sword was made of. But Venith’s was enchanted, or better quality. Or simply stronger. It bit slightly into the blade. Flos twisted away and stared at his blade. Venith gritted his teeth. He raised his shield as the King brought down his blade.
For the last time.
The blade met the shield. Only this time there was no crash, of impact. Flos’ sword broke as it met the shield. It didn’t shatter, but the blade snapped and spiraled into the air.
Silence followed that moment, as Flos stared down at the handle of his broken sword. Venith smiled grimly and raised his shield and sword as he spoke.