by Billy Wong
"No! I-I mean, I don't know! He had arguments with people before, but I don't even remember who. It's just school, I never thought somebody would murder him over it!"
Rupert exhaled. No luck here, it seemed. "You can go. But leave your knife and its sheath, and let your wet pants be a reminder of how close the reaper came to you."
After being released, the boy dropped the sheath on the floor and scurried off. He picked it up, put the blade inside and slipped it under his shirt. He would figure out a way to secure it better later. What he'd said to Elliot aside, in these times he felt more comfortable having a weapon on hand after all.
While they gathered materials to set up the rings for their competition, Meg, Patrick and Rupert came up with a set of rules they would use. Going over them while she measured a length of rope to shorten it, Meg said, "I can't believe Pat convinced me to have everybody wear enough armor to protect against standard blade strikes."
Patrick replied while holding a wooden post steady for Rupert to saw through it. "Well, it is the best way to minimize the risk of severe injury, compared to relying on them to all hold back enough."
Rupert nodded. "There are some weapon types most armor won't do much against like maces and hammers, but that shouldn't be an issue since you're hand picking who to allow into the tourney."
"Oh, certainly. Besides those specific weapons, there are also some heavy duty blades that wouldn't be safe for this either, like the axe belonging to the girl who last handed Mouse her butt."
"Meg has had her butt handed to her by another girl?"
"Pat! Why would you bring that up?!"
He snickered. "Admittedly the fight wasn't completely conclusive, but that's only because Mouse backed off insisting to call it a draw, and Taryn obliged."
"It was a draw."
"Who is this Taryn?" Rupert asked. "Sounds like an intriguing girl, or woman."
Meg gave a dismissive wave. "Not really, she's just some captain at a Plasbian fort. Main thing about her is she stands close to six and a half feet tall and carries the biggest axe." Her voice softened. "She was a good comrade, though. Miss her a bit, but what can you do when life keeps taking you new places..."
"Hey, at least you have the murderous Breastslayer now."
Rupert hung his head. "Why must you continue propagating the use of that name..."
Meg walked over and slapped his back. "It's not like you'll probably ever shed it while at school, so you might as well embrace it."
"Does that mean I have permission to punch you in the breasts, then?"
"No." They all laughed, then Meg asked, "Are you sure the time limit should be twenty minutes before going to the judges? That seems a bit of a long time for a fight with weapons."
Patrick shrugged. "The protective gear should allow for them to last longer, especially if they try to fight defensively. Besides, it would be preferable to give enough time for most duels to be concluded decisively, and I bet Rupert will be happy to have less work to do too."
They had decided to have Patrick referee, while Rupert would be among three judges to choose a winner if time ran out before one participant yielded or could not continue—though hopefully not many matches would end in the latter. "I'm not the most confident about who to grant victory to in a razor close contest, so I'd welcome not having to do it too often."
The competition was to be spread out over multiple weekends with thirty-two contestants to start, half of whom would be eliminated each round until one prevailed. Due to the number of matches, the first round would be split between two days. Arriving at the storage room, Rupert made his way to the judges' table to find one of them a sideburned boy he had noticed looking at him when they passed each other in the hall before. To his surprise, the third judge was none other than Peggy Petunia, eagerly showing the boy some colorful pictures she'd drawn.
"I didn't know you joined the club," he said lamely when she noticed him.
"I didn't join it," she replied in her sugar-sweet voice, "not the Fighters Club your friend handed me a flyer for anyway. Just talking about things related to fighting wouldn't hold my interest, so I joined the Martial Club instead where I can study and learn techniques with weapons other than my favorite."
"Ah. Didn't think you would have enough time with all the clubs you're already part of."
"I quit the pottery club which meets on the same day. The club head is too stingy to buy us quality materials with the money donated by its members specifically for club use, so we can only make rubbish anyway."
"I see... welcome to our little president's network of clubs, then." He shook her hand, then did the same with the sideburned boy who introduced himself as Ty.
When they opened the door for the spectators, Rupert spotted Charlene among them. Walking close to the table, she said, "Inspiring choice of venue you had to resort to."
"Just saving the best for last. It's a rule of showmanship to keep ramping up the spectacle, according to Patrick at least. What are you doing here? I didn't think you would like to watch the uncouth violence you disapprove of."
"I'm just here to see that you don't do anything unacceptable." And if she did find the slightest hint of anything she thought the authorities would take issue with, he figured she would jump to report it.
Nevertheless, she didn't make any overt trouble yet as she took her place among the audience. The place became packed, so that despite having prepared seats many students had to stand at the edges of the room behind them. The burly custodian and a few guards were there too to keep order in case something happened, though Meg asserted the club members could handle it themselves. Rupert felt glad for their presence at least; despite her and Patrick's impressive skills, the other aspiring warriors couldn't necessarily be counted on in a situation of real peril, so having some more mature helping hands provided a measure of reassurance. He watched the first of eight scheduled matches begin. Two boys in chain faced off, one with a sword and shield, the other two swords. The one dual-wielding slashed away aggressively, pulling off some flashy combination moves that made people ooh and aah, but his shield-bearing opponent warded his attacks calmly while waiting for opportunities to strike back. Finding an opening after his opponent missed with a jumping spin with both blades out, he landed a stiff blow to the ribcage that staggered him back.
"The shield user looks more skillful with much less wasted movement," Ty said. "If this goes to the time limit, we'll probably have to declare him the winner."
"Don't jump to conclusions," Peggy replied. "Two-Sword is looking rather style over substance now, but we don't know if he'll adjust. It could be he's trying to show off early, but maybe once he realizes it's not working he'll show some depth to his skills."
"Have either of you seen him fight before?"
Rupert shook his head. "If we did, we'd probably have a better idea of whether that showy flailing is his actual style." He looked at Peggy. "Why aren't you participating? You seemed like you would be one of the better fighters in the clubs based on your spar on the first day."
"My style isn't very suited to this type of contest."
"What style might that be?"
The pigtailed princess looked admonishingly at him. "Since when is a lady obligated to reveal all her secrets to you?" He imagined maybe she focused on sneaky tactics or inflicting crippling damage as quickly as possible to compensate for her tiny size, which wouldn't go over well in friendly competition. "Plus the thought of beating someone else and hurting their pride doesn't appeal that much to me. I understand the value of competition and why others would enjoy it, but it just isn't really my thing. So when Meg said she was looking for judges, that was pretty much perfect for me!"
"That's honest of you. A lot of people, warriors or otherwise, wouldn't admit to something like that. Competitive or not, you have decent skills nonetheless."
She smiled. "I do take my training seriously, since those skills might be called on for more than recreational use."
By now t
he dual-wielder had taken several more hard whacks on his limbs, and stalked his foe with more caution in lieu of jumping around recklessly. He tried to batter or push the shield out of the way with one sword and strike with the other, but wasn't having much luck as the other fighter's strong stance denied his efforts. "He looks better," Ty said, "but is still at a disadvantage."
"Two sword style isn't the most intuitive. You really have to be talented to make it work consistently."
Tiring as he worked harder to no avail, the struggling fighter hunched over panting. He straightened and rushed the shield user in perhaps a last desperate flurry, hacking at the wooden board again and again so that splinters flew. His rival ducked in, catching one blade on his iron shield rim while he swung his own sword up. The edge slammed into Two-Sword's armored wrist. He yelped, letting go of a hilt, then his opponent shoved hard with the shield. Off balance, he was launched from his feet. He landed hard on his back, stunning him as the crowd roared. Before he could raise his remaining weapon again, a gleaming point hovered over his face.
"I give," he breathed, sweaty features tight with embarrassment, and cheers went up for the victor as Patrick officially announced him as such.
"No comeback this time," Ty said. "Guess you were wrong."
Peggy scoffed. "I never said he would necessarily turn it around. I said he might be capable of fighting better than he did at first, which he was to an extent."
Rupert wondered if they had a preexisting rivalry when it came to evaluating fighters, or just developed it now. In any case, the abilities of the winner seemed decent, but nothing special even for a teenager with moderate training in his view. Not much entertainment to be had here if others didn't have more to show, but he didn't regret doing a favor for Meg. That brash yet warm girl deserved to sit back and enjoy the fruits of her labor, after working overtime to balance her student council and club duties and still manage to set this up. As for whether the tournament would be successful... while the skills on display might not be noteworthy to his perspective, the less savvy audience seemed engaged enough as was Meg's goal. He could understand why she and Patrick themselves didn't participate; if one or two contestants seemed to be overwhelming favorites, it might diminish the suspense and spectator interest along with it. He glanced towards Charlene out of curiosity to find her face neutral.
"By the way, why don't you fight?" Ty asked while the next pair of fighters took their places facing one another. "You seem competitive enough, or is because Meg doesn't trust you not to overdo it?" His eyes took on a nervous cast, as if realizing he might've spoken too freely.
"I don't trust myself not to overdo it," he said with a sigh, which seemed to relieve the boy when he saw there wouldn't be a harsher response.
They sat through the next four matches without a hitch, though also without much special happening aside from a quick girl with a single long knife defeating a boy with a spear. Impressive to overcome that much reach—Rupert thought she might be an early favorite to win the whole thing, if even better fighters didn't make themselves known. The roar of the crowd at her triumph showed she had their backing, too.
Just after the third to last match ended, a commotion began at the door. A boy who'd fought previously had tried to run in past the guards who held him back, panic across his countenance. "What happened?" people tried to ask him while he glanced around wide-eyed in shock.
At last he gathered himself to speak. "My g-girlfriend, the girl who lost to me before, was murdered!"
Chapter 6
So that was why both fighters had been so timid about attacking each other in that match, the only one so far to end in a hard to call decision after almost nothing happened. Murder would be going overboard as punishment for putting on a boring fight, though. "That's awful..." Peggy said next to Rupert.
"What," Charlene asked, "are you sure?"
The boy raised hands covered in blood. "Yes, she's lying dead in the restroom! Oh gods..."
"Now do you believe I'm not the killer?" Rupert couldn't stop himself from saying with an annoyed look at the noble girl.
"Who knows, there could be more than one murderer..." She shook her head strongly. "Even if you didn't personally kill them, you're still the harbinger of trouble here. This string of unfortunate events at school started with your arrival, so who's to say your propensity for violence hasn't set off a chain reaction?"
"You're going to fault Rupert for someone else choosing to kill? That's rational," Elliot said sarcastically from nearby. "Besides, by that logic you came at the same time, so you could just as easily be blamed."
"I have not even gotten in a fight outside defense class, so it is hardly the same." She turned away.
Rupert looked at Elliot. "She did have one solid point though, which is that there could be more than one murderer."
"You think there might be multiple people going around killing for no discernible reason? That's scary."
"There's no evidence either way. It's just something we can't rule out."
Meg had squeezed her way through the mob to the teary-eyed boy's side, Patrick close behind. "What exactly happened, did you see who did it?"
"No, she needed to go so I accompanied her, but obviously didn't follow her inside. When she didn't come out for a long time or answer me, I broke in only to find she was already..."
"I see, so somebody must have been waiting inside to ambush whoever entered next. But they weren't there when you came in?"
"There's a window, I guess they used it to escape. But why Jen, I've never seen her even get in an argument with anyone besides myself!"
"If anyone was looking towards the building at the time," Patrick said, "they might have seen them climb out. You guards should ask around."
"We already thought of that," one stubbly man with close cropped hair said, "we don't need you kids to be asking questions for us never mind telling us how to do our jobs." He and a comrade went off presumably to examine the crime scene, while two others stayed to watch over the students.
The tournament was called off for the day, and most of those present left after being interviewed by the guards. Rupert and Elliot stayed in the storage room to discuss what had happened with Meg and Patrick. "Shit," Meg said, her normally boisterous voice small and subdued, "I thought we could leave it to the guards, but they couldn't stop the murderer in time and now one of our club members is gone."
Patrick put a comforting arm over her shoulders. "It's not your fault, Mouse. We're just students like you said, and might've been thought to be overstepping our bounds if we tried to investigate ourselves. Besides, we couldn't know it wasn't an isolated incident, and that the killer would claim another victim."
"I suppose. But now that we have a better sense of the true danger, we should take action rather than just sit around hoping for the guards to solve the problem for us. Even if they may be more equipped than us to do it, it's possible we could luck out, so we should investigate too to increase the likelihood of catching this bastard."
"We should think about what similarities the incidents had," Elliot said, "and that might give us an idea of what to look for."
"What did Avery and the girl who was just killed have in common?" Rupert thought about it and answered his question himself. "He tried to bully Elliot and she fought in the tourney, so they were both fighters, or people who didn't shy away from physical confrontations at least."
"But it sounds like they waited in the restroom to attack whoever came in next," Elliot pointed out, "when there was no guarantee it would be a fighter. So I don't know if that means anything."
"Still, the killer must've known the tournament was nearby so there would be a decent chance of catching a fighter or spectator interested in combat."
Meg clenched her jaw. "In case they are targeting fighters, we should tell all the club members and others enrolled in the tournament to pair up or travel with a group whenever possible. And be careful when going alone somewhere like a restroom, I guess."
<
br /> "That's a good idea." Elliot paused. "The potential targeting of fighters kind of makes me think of Charlene."
Eyebrows went up around the circle of chairs as they more seriously considered the noble as a suspect, but Rupert said, "She's a fighter herself though, and doesn't seem that bad to murder her fellow students just to undermine us. Besides, she was in here with us when the girl died."
Patrick replied, "True, but that doesn't mean she can't be connected to the killings. While I agree my intuition tells me otherwise, we should still keep the possibility in mind."
"Moving on," Elliot said, "they killed their last victim in the restroom, and Avery's body was found in a less used stairwell. Which means they like to do their work in places where few are likely to see them."
"That's just expected though. If they were open about it, they would get caught in a hurry, so that doesn't tell us anything other than they want to stay free and be able to keep killing."
"You're right, my thought wasn't very helpful."
Meg gazed gently at him as if to say not to worry about it. "Actually, while they might be isolated public spaces, they were still public spaces anyone could use. With Avery it was less certain because they could have followed him specifically and then killed him, but after this second killing I have to think the murderer doesn't choose specific targets, and instead waits somewhere for a prospective victim to happen by before striking."
Rupert bit his lip. "That might sort of kill my fighter theory, but does make sense. We should still ask the club members to take precautions like you suggested to help protect them though, but maybe they could spread the word beyond the fighting community to everyone they can."
"The guards and faculty will probably be warning the whole student body to take precautions anyway," Patrick said, "so we can just reinforce that among those we know. This makes it more difficult though, if the killer just ambushes random people it would be hard to predict when or where he'll show up next."
"Yeah..." Meg bowed her head. "Doesn't seem like much will come out of just talking about it. But hopefully when we ask around we can learn more relevant information."